The Chronicles of Heaven's War, Book I: Sisters of the Bloodwind by Ava D. Dohn - HTML preview

Concerned not for the girl’s welfare but fearing she might be dead, ruining his hoped-for fun, Claudesius leaned forward to look for signs of life.

Eventually Ishtar stirred, the sound of the cats’ feasting pummeling her ears. The sights of blood and gore witnessed at Travet’s demise flooded her brain, except this time she was watching Merna and Hilen being ripped apart by the beasts. Slowly her dreaming passed, she awaking to the nightmare of the reality around her. With her remaining strength, Ishtar pushed herself back on her knees. She hunched forward, resting on her hands, rasping in shallow breaths. There was little expression to be seen in her tortured face and swollen eyes. Like some animal that had been beaten and broken, the girl blankly stared at the paving stones, dumbly nodding her head while bloody froth dripped from her mouth.

Silently relieved to see the girl lived and was strong enough to still sit, Claudesius began to gloat. He could see Ishtar’s exhaustion and defeat written on her face. One more little push and she would be his. Then…then…

‘Hurry! She is almost ours! Give the creature to us so we can have our fun with it.

You have done well.’ There were now two voices in the back of the governor’s brain calling out to him, but speaking in the way a master does to his servant.

Claudesius smiled, nodding, but his heart was not listening. He was already making new plans. This child was a true contestant. She made his blood heat with passion in a way it had never before been made to do. He would not surrender the girl up to the circus this day, possibly ever. Somehow he was going to whisk her away, she becoming a slave in his house. After all, why should they have all the fun? Had he not satisfied their desires in the arena so many times before? He wanted this one prize. For once, he wanted a prize just for himself…not the chiding voices in his head .

Those voices inside Claudesius could not read his mind, but they did feel a change in his emotions, one that disturbed them. ‘Be careful, now. We need this prize. You can do with it what you please for now, but it must stand in the crowd today. Do not forget!’

‘I will not! This prize is mine! I will not give it up!’ Claudesius’ anger reddened his face. A searing pain shot across the governor’s eyes, the voices, feeling his defiance,

warning him of their power. Always before they had been unobtrusive and merely suggestive, but Ishtar was the key to a far bigger prize. Too much was at stake this day.

Already armies in distant realms were gathering, waiting an order to bring the rabble house down. Symeon must surrender his faith this day. His demise would be the linchpin upon which Heaven’s War would swing.

Claudesius winced from the pain. He did not understand what was happening, but was aware that other powers were displeased with his attitude. What were the gods doing anyway? Grudgingly, the governor accepted the girl’s fate. Still, he had some time to carry out his personal fantasies, but he must hurry in order to satisfy them.

Drawing Ishtar’s attention to the boys, Claudesius asked, so concerned, “What a pity.

What a pity. Whatever shall become of these two forlorn orphans? To see the death of both parents in the same day and now…and now? What do you say? Their fate rests in your hands. You must decide.”

Ishtar stared at Claudesius, saying nothing. She slowly shook her head as tears began anew.

“Fool!” Claudesius shouted, infuriated by the girl’s resistance. “Must an entire family come to its end in one day? What are you proving?! Your God does not see you!

Fool! Fool!” The governor was desperate. What could he do? Ishtar refused all his threats. She would let the boys die before surrendering to Claudesius’ wishes. She would… Wait! He rubbed his chin in thought. After studying the two children, he turned his attention back to Ishtar, smiling, forlorn. “Such fair-skinned little children need special attention, someone who understands how to care for them at such a tender hour. I will let them live.” He motioned Treston, “Take these fair-skinned boys to our distinguished guests. They will know how to treat with these little blond-haired fellows.”

Ishtar acted before Treston could move. Desperate, she waved her hand for the governor to stop. Gathering up her remaining strength, the girl managed to struggle to her feet with deliberate effort, forcing wobbly legs to move her toward the table on which the statue and incense fire were placed.

Claudesius’ body was trembling in orgasmic excitement. He had won! He had won!

In only moments, he could whisk the girl away from here to his private sanctum, hidden deep within the bowels of the palace. There was time - a few fleeting hours - for him to enjoy the rewards for such a hard won contest. Then he could decide whether to listen to those troublesome voices or not.

“That’s a good girl.” He tried to hide the joyful excitement in his voice. “You are acting wisely. Soon this will all be over and everything here will only become like some bad dream. The boys and you can go at your leave. You can see your mother again. All this will soon be over.” Claudesius grinned in triumph.

Treston watched closely. Something wasn’t right. He caught the glint in Ishtar’s eyes. There was a hidden power behind those eyes that sent chills down his spine. Many a battle he had fought and many wild men he had bested in combat, but never had he seen that look of madness - not, at least, from an opponent facing defeat. Still, this was the governor’s game. He would not interfere, dared not.

With unsteady steps, Ishtar made her way to the incense table, resting her hands on it, exhausted upon reaching it. Tiny tremors rippled across the girl’s naked flesh, making the golden firelight from the incense altar dance on the silver beads of sweat covering her skin. For the longest time, she did not move.

Treston watched, wondering if Ishtar had the strength to do what was expected of her. As the time passed, he noticed a strange feeling creeping into his heart. He began to wish, in some way, that she had not surrendered her faith. Somehow, her unwavering strength had moved him in ways never before experienced. And now, while she stood before the god-king statue, he was feeling let down, as if he had also failed, or been failed.

Ishtar’s hand slowly moved. Then, to everyone’s surprise, her head snapped back, sending her hair floating upon the air. She stood bolt upright, glaring at Claudesius. In a defiant voice that could pierce the heart, she cried out, “If my God rescues us from your hands this day, it is of little consequence! Let it be known to you, man of dust, I will not bend a knee to any dungy idol and contrivance of man! The Devil be damned and all men with him!” With both hands, Ishtar clutched hold of the statue and, swinging it high and wide, swept it down and across the table, splintering wood while scattering burning oil and incense in every direction. Then, with a grunt, she heaved the statue toward the stones, shattering it into a thousand flying shards that sparkled and glittered in the firelight.

Things that happened next arrived in little more than a blur. Treston stepped forward, reaching out to stop Ishtar. Too late! Claudesius lifted his hand in rage and opened his mouth to curse the girl. And Ishtar fell forward, grabbing her head crying out in pain.

“Fool child!” Treston took another step toward Ishtar but was suddenly stopped by an invisible wall of chilling cold. Yet it was that step taken that saved his life.

At that moment, the earth began to shake as the sky thundered in anger. Stones and dust fell from the ceiling, sending guards and slaves scattering. Then, with a crack and tumultuous rumble, the palace wall and ceiling behind and above the lions’ pit collapsed, cascading tonnes of stones and rubble into the pit. Panicked roars from below rent the air, only to be quickly snuffed out by the smothering dust. Again, the sky shook the palace with its maddening thunders.

Stunned, motionless, Claudesius and Treston stared helplessly at the drama unfolding around them. Jagged lightning ripped the sky, filling the chamber with blinding flashes of light, stormwinds sweeping through the broken wall while the ground continued to shake, tearing giant stones from the ceiling and casting them to the floor.

Midst all this turmoil, Ishtar began to rise.

Treston tried to flee, but his feet refused to move. A dark shadow surrounded him, catching him in its freezing grip. He watched, spellbound, seeing in visions...or was it reality? He could not tell, for he heard words spoken as thunders while seeing strange sights, but all through the veil of shadow. It was not the same, though, for Claudesius.

In terror and disbelief, Claudesius watched Ishtar reach out toward him, a black fire growing in her eyes until consuming her in its angry inferno. Her appearance took on the shape of some monster rising from the darkness. His legs trembled as he wet himself in fear. The raging fire-monster approached.

The monster’s voice rolled with thunder, hurling pronouncements like lightning bolts. Claudesius’ entire universe, his life and deeds, flashed before his eyes in a heartbeat only to explode into nothingness, swept away on the words this monster spoke.

From the depths of the Abyss, from ages beginning and ending, from beyond the edge of the universe, an angry voice chided him with questions. “Little man! Little man!

Tell me, little man, tell me if you can! Where were you when I founded this Earth?! Did you, in your mightiness, drive its pedestals down deep for me?! Can you stop the sea when it is agitated or catch an eagle in the sky?!” The monster lifted a hand, making the air smoke and crackle from its heated energy. “How dare you! How dare you, you insolent little speck of dung, call down evil on me…on me, the Maker of all things!”

Crimson flames grew in the monster’s eyes, its indignant rage increasing as it lashed out with venomous rebukes. “Your filthy idols are nothing more than dust beneath my feet! Nothing! Tell me, man of dust and ash, if you have wisdom, did Pharaoh’s gods save him from the torrents when I brushed his military might into the sea?! Tell me!”

Claudesius quailed, raising his hands to cover his face.

“Tell me, food for maggots! I brought Dagon down in his own house, smashing his idol to pieces! The Hivites, Hittites, and the Girgashites! Do you know the names of their gods that I, long ago, consumed in my fiery rage?! Tell me, man of dust! If you can, tell me!”

A thunderous crash shook the room, filling the darkness with dozens of blinding, static fireballs. The monster stepped closer, reaching out a smoldering hand. “Tell me, little man, one born blind and dumb! How strong was Goliath’s god so that my little child cut him down and carried his head away as spoil?! Tell me, if you have speech!

Where is the glory of Assyria, city to the god-king?! Can a person water his camels in Nineveh today?! No! Its gods fled from before my face and…and in my fury, I laid it waste and burned it with fire!”

Claudesius was too terrified to speak or run. He cowered, crying out with tears for mercy.

None was offered, the monster only becoming more enraged. “I do not tolerate my enemies forever! I cut down Belshazzar and his house in one night because he dared to drink wine from my holy cups! These children of mine are worth many cups! And what of your own King Agrippa?! He was haughty, failed to give me glory for gifts given him.

My angel, in her rage, struck him with maggots so that he died! Where were all the gods of those people on the day of my glory?! Answer me, little man of dirt and clay…

ANSWER ME! ”

Flooding rain whipped by hurricane-force winds swept into the chamber, stinging Treston’s flesh with a burning, like icy flames. Through half-blinded eyes, he watched, transfixed, seeing Ishtar having taken on the shape of some mythical, fiery beast slowly advancing upon the governor. And Claudesius? Like a man in a drunken stupor, he dumbly stood before the advancing black fire, shaking so that his knees knocked.

Again the storm unleashed its fury with more thunderous outbursts. The monster railed anew, “Who are you to set laws and pronouncements against me?! I am the Ruler of the worlds above and the realms beneath! In my tumult, I burn cities with fire! And in my rage, I drown worlds under the seas! Can you stop me, oh man of nothingness?! Can you stop me from burning your own city with fire?!

“Look! Because of the insolence of your kind, saying, ‘We are gods in men’s flesh!’

Look! I am bringing your wonderful cities, the jewels of your pride and the home of your birth, I am bringing them to nothing! In smoke and ash, I will bury them forever! And earthling men will forget they existed. Those cities will become a land of astonishment to time indefinite! You, yourself, I shall make to hear of it in your own days! And you will weep but find no comforter.”

Claudesius fell down on one knee while lifting up shaking hands, quailing, “Have mercy on me, my Lord! For dumb and stupid a man I am! Have mercy on this fool!”

“Mercy?! ” roared the monster. “Travet begged for mercy from you!” At that, the smoldering flame burst forth into a raging orange inferno rising high above the cowering governor.

Treston could see his own skin blister, turn black, and then burst into flame. His eyes felt as though they were melting, yet he could still see. The world around him caught fire, dissolving into vaporous mist then blown away by the violent storm.

Ravaged by the ferocity of the tempest, naked to the world, he watched this drama unfold before him.

The monster’s raging voice rose in a crescendo, its words howling above the screeching wind. From a gaping mouth fires spat, filling the air with curses and denunciations. Claudesius could feel his very being disintegrating, flesh dissolving off charred bone. But as the fire scourged his soul, he discerned a strange sensation that he was not alone in his body, the presence of hundreds or possibly thousands of beings…if that is what they could be called…the man served host to. And it was to these demons the monster was now addressing its words.

In a howling, the monster screamed, “Oh, you Lord of the flies, how will you escape my day of retribution?! Most beautiful of my children you are, but putrid to my nostrils you have become! Dig for yourself a pit and see if you can hide from my wrath!” With an extended hand, it shook a finger in Claudesius’ face. “The Whirlwind! The Destroyer!

He is coming in his rage! And he will humiliate you and leave you naked and defiled!

My daughters will rape your manhood, cutting off the manliness from your house!”

The beast then roared, laughing derisively, pointing toward itself, “Look! The maiden standing before you will lift up a great sword and in her vengeance will slaughter your lover, lifting his carcass on a stake in celebration. And you! You will hear of it and weep over your loss.” It reached out a hand, fingers spread. “Your end will come in one day! My own daughter, the one you despise and call a ‘usurper’, by her hand you will perish, in the delight of her laughter!”

Claudesius cringed in terror, seeking to flee, but his feet would not move. The world spun around him in a dizzying blur and he found no helper, his guards having fled except for Treston, who stood there like a statue, half hidden in mist.

The monster again turned its attention toward the governor, raging on. “Confess to me, if you can! Where is your great power and might?! A tongue?! What has become of a tongue so eager to mock the God of heaven?! Will you humble yourself before my greatness or must I destroy you this very hour?!” At that moment, the monster’s fingers tightened around Claudesius’ wrist. A burning pain swept up his arm and through his body, so agonizing he could not scream, but also so purifying, he felt life flow anew throughout his soul. There was a scream, though, thousands of them, one enveloping chorus as the voices in the back of his head cried out collectively in one last, dying gasp.

“It is done!”

Claudesius heard the words, but in a voice nearly forgotten by him. Quickly, his eyes focused upon the face of Ishtar, she holding his arm. Light showers drifted on a summer breeze that echoed the storm’s passing. Spattering of water droplets falling from the roof onto the cobblestones created a happy melody. ‘Drip… drip… drip…all is well, all is well, all is well.’

Treston almost fell when the shadow released its iron grip. He looked up to see the few remaining guards crawling out of hiding places, the rest having fled to the city streets. Eyes filled with wonder and fear searched the lower palace, puzzling over what had really happened. Only Treston had seen the governor’s vision, yet even he had not heard what was spoken. Still, any who had witnessed the child speak as if with the thunders of the tempest were filled with trepidation and forever changed regarding the girl and the God she professed. Never did they forget, and many were the ones they told, turning the events of that day into legend and fable.

Ishtar stood, facing Claudesius, again as beautiful as the first moment he had seen her. Gone were the monster’s fiery eyes, replaced by the girl’s cool, serene stare, unnerving the governor. Calmly and gently, she addressed him, “My hour is come. We must leave.”

Claudesius stood, dumbly staring into Ishtar’s face, fumbling in his speech, becoming silent.

Ishtar released her grasp and stepped back, warning, “My God can overlook your travesty done this day, but should you touch only one hair on Cephas’ head, your wife and children shall become Ogust’s playthings at tonight’s festivities and you…you will be burned in the very gown taken from me in your court.” She waved her hand, lowering it open-palmed in front of him. “If you will listen to wisdom and truly give ear to my voice, and you do recall with knowledge all that has been yours to see and hear this day, the death of the city you so dearly love will not happen in your lifetime.”

A strangling fog, one that had held the governor so long in its grip, was slowly lifting. Did Claudesius stare into the eyes of a child, a woman, or was she a goddess? He did not know, but he did know that his heart begged for this moment never to end. He desired Ishtar now more than ever, but no longer to satisfy some sordid passion. No! He desired answers…answers to secrets hinted at but not revealed that this child understood.

How could she seek death when he needed her insight and wisdom? Time! Claudesius needed time to sort matters out. And there was precious little remaining unless…

unless…

Gazing at Ishtar in fear and amazement, Claudesius sought some way to change time and space. He argued, hands outstretched, “Please! Let us give the coming hour rest.

Give me time to find another way to deal with you and your deeds. Give me time to seek the release of your uncle from this curse that I have placed over him. Please! Let us retire from here and we shall decide matters with understanding.”

Ishtar’s answer stung Claudesius’ ears and heart. “No! My hour has come and you cannot stop it. Should the winds of the Great Sea decide to strike the shore with a tempest, can a man brush it aside as nothing? You could easier stop that wind than delay the coming hour by one handbreadth.”

She then pointed toward the shattered statue and incense stand. “You have a law, and you know well what your law states. Should your own son, in his innocence, fall upon the god-statue and destroy it, he would have to suffer my fate. Besides, the power to reprieve no longer rests in your hands. Look around! See how few of your servants stand with you. The others have already heralded the morning’s events to the crowds.

Would they not stone even you in their passion to right this great wrong?”

Claudesius persisted to argue his point. “Troubling thoughts cloud my mind with confusion. I cannot judge you until they clear.”

Ishtar shook her head. “Gone is the darkness from your heart. You think with a mind freed from its wicked hosts. Better are you the judge now than when you stood silent upon the ramparts of the Tower of Ja-Boccan and swore an oath to Zeus, confessing need for wisdom and understanding.”

Stunned speechless, Claudesius dumbly stared in shock and amazement. He was little more than a lad when he stood upon the smoking mountain that overlooked his home city. Ja-Boccan? It was nothing more than a rocky outcropping that cast its shadow into the steaming pit, named by him and his childhood friends when small boys.

And his oath to Zeus? Only he knew of it, when first becoming a city counselor, and it was spoken only in his heart. Now the governor was troubled more than ever.

With tears and uncertain speech, Claudesius broke his silence. “Who are you? You bind me with deathly cords that I cannot break free of. I am confused and cannot decide right from wrong. I fear you are a goddess sent here to test me out. How can a man retain hope for life when he seeks the violation and death of a goddess?”

Serenity filled Ishtar’s face. Someone else guided her mind while soothing an aching heart so that the atrocities recently heaped upon her were little more than half-forgotten dreams. She softly answered, “I am no goddess. A child of this world, born of dust and clay is all that I am. My mother you have seen and my father I have spoken of.

Your attempted violation of my flesh is no more or less damning than what you have done to all so many other maidens.”

Claudesius began to quail anew. Ishtar calmed him, reassuring, “This truly was a day of testing, but not yours. The world has changed for me. It no longer holds my spirit bound. Soon I start a new journey. I see its opening door as I speak.” She motioned him forward. “Come! The hour is late and you must still cast your judgment against me in the city gate.”

The governor refused.

Ishtar touched his hand. “You do not sin at this time. You must exercise your authority given you. It was for this hour that you received it. Now come. I hold you harmless in this matter. I accept responsibility for the price that is to be paid for my insubordination.”

Claudesius cast his eyes downward. What could he do? He felt nauseous and his heart ached with regret and loss. There must be something, some loophole, another way.

He was good at it, always had been. Ah, but today there was no way. There were too many witnesses to Ishtar’s act. She had sealed her fate intentionally. The girl must die in public disgrace. But hadn’t he forced such a fate upon her? Was he not even more culpable than she? There was nothing left to be done. Or was there?

Treston came out of his daze when the governor waved, calling his name. He quickly approached, asking, “Yes, my Lord?!”

Claudesius was anxious. “Go to my chamber and tell my wife to deliver into your hands her purple gown, the one with the crest of the governor’s house on it. And fetch the servant women with perfumed water and our best oil. And be quick!”

Treston bowed and started to hurry away.

Claudesius ordered him to halt. “And these boys, I place them under your protection. Take them to be with my family until you can return.”

“Yes…yes, my Lord!” Treston saluted, and with another guard assisting, gathered up Merna’s sons and departed.

Directing Ishtar and the others to follow, Claudesius addressed the girl. “Whether you are a goddess walking among us is not mine to know, and your choosing death instead of life is not mine to call, but I do have a say in other matters. You will live up to your name. You will not pass through these palace gates like some common criminal or lowly slave but as Ishtar, the ‘star delivered from heaven’…the ‘Queen of Heaven’…you will journey to your new destiny. That, my child, I can do.”

* * *

Chisamore jumped from his hiding place among the rocks to block a potential threat, his sword at the ready as the sound of hurrying steps alerted the camp to trouble. It was Periste. She waved him off, rushing past him, her hushed voice sounding alarm.

“They’re coming!” Periste cried, casting her voice’s power toward the ground in an effort for her desperate words not to carry past the camp. Stopping short of the tiny group gathered around Darla, she excitedly panted, “It’s Legion’s Gestapo after us! Must be at least a hundred of ‘em!”

Sirion looked up, her pale face stained with tears, moaning in anguish, “My sister’s dying! We can’t move her!”

Periste sensed the gravity of the moment, seeing Sirion and Depais holding Darla, while Gabrielle, semiconscious, lay atop the girl, mumbling incoherently. She shook her head, looking down at a sobbing Sirion, “Honey, if we don’t git right now, Mother will shed tears for more than one child.”

Tzidohn rushed into camp, hunkering down behind some boulders, warning Chisamore to seek protection. Periste watched him duck for cover then shouted to the others with Darla, “They’ve come for war! They intend to kill us all! We hafta make a run for it. We can’t stand against ‘em!”

Color drained from Periste’s face as she searched the others’ faces for a response.

Sirion looked into her frantic eyes and then reached out, taking Gabrielle by the shoulder and gently shaking her, echoing Periste’s warning. “Darling, we have to let go. Our girl is dead and we must save ourselves.”

Depais got to her feet in an attempt to assist Gabrielle. “C’mon, Honey, we have to go.”

Gabrielle struggled to break free of her blind stupor, pushing with her hands to sit, Depais helping as best she could. Sirion wiggled out from behind Darla, resting the woman’s head on the blanket. Seeing others assembling near the rocks, she called out for Depais to leave her charge and help with the defense. “It’s too late to run now. We need to hold this place the best we can.”

Pushing herself up and into a sitting position, Gabrielle told Depais to go, saying she would be fine. Depais hurried off. But Gabrielle was still too weak to weather the storm by herself. She moaned in pain, her arms almost collapsing. Shaking her head in dismay, she could do little more than fight off the cobwebs in her mind.

At that instant, Mihai and Planetee scrambled over the rocks, half dragging EhleenohrKalahnit who suffered a jillson bolt through her middle thigh. She groaned as she hit the ground, but struggled back onto her feet, sword drawn. Sirion stared at the bloody arrow, its feathers half buried in the back of Ehleenohr’s leg, its point sticking

two handbreadths out the front. With no time to render medical attention, Sirion prepared for combat.

“Get down!” Mihai shouted, as several jillson bolts sliced through the air, ricocheting off rocks or slamming into withered trees.

Periste was motioning Sirion and Depais forward when another bolt swooshed out of the thickets, punching Periste in the upper chest, just to the left of her heart, nicking an artery, cracking bones and slicing through tendons before breaking out of her back, smashing the woman’s shoulder blade. Knocked off balance and spinning from the force of the blow, Periste pirouetted to her left, splattering Sirion’s face with blood as she crashed to the ground.

This was all happening so fast. No time to think, just do. Sirion scanned the underbrush beyond the rocks. The thicket was full of movement. She pulled her sword from its scabbard and took a step toward the rocks. At that instant, her mind picked up a faint disturbance in the harmonics. Another jillson bolt sped toward her…or near her. In less than a heartbeat, she had calculated the arrow’s trajectory, sighing relief that it would pass her by. From the corner of her eye, Sirion realized who the intended target was.

Gabrielle still sat wrapped up in Darla’s legs, the woman unaware of what was going on.

Sirion screamed out Gabrielle’s name as she dove toward the streaking missile.

Sirion heard only a dull explosion in her head when the jillson bolt caught her at midriff just below her sternum, pitching her back and off her feet. She twisted heels over head in crazy cartwheel fashion, drifting as though forever weightless, a deafening silence filling her ears. The woman’s eyes watched in amazement as the world spun around her, feeling that time had come to a stop and that she, alone, was moving in the universe. ‘So this is how it feels to die,’ she pondered. ‘Not so bad… not so bad…’

‘Crunch!’ Sirion crashed hard on her shoulders, crying out in agony as her head hit the hard-packed ground, finally stopping on her side, curled up in a fetal position next to Periste. She struggled to sit, pain from the wound not affecting her senses yet. Looking down to examine her wound, Sirion saw only the last inch of the bolt’s black feathers sticking out of the jagged cut. She could tell that the arrow had missed her spine, but it punched a hole through her stomach, just clearing her diaphragm.

Hiding behind a boulder, Mihai looked back in time to see Sirion take the hit. She cried out her name, watching helplessly as the girl struggled to sit. After looking over her injuries, Sirion glanced up at Mihai, who was staring back in dismay. Sirion coughed, spewing hot, frothy crimson from her mouth onto her khaki fatigues. She coughed again, fear of death growing on her face as she realized the danger of drowning in her own blood.

There was nothing else for it, nothing Mihai could do. This would not be the first close companion she had watched die while the heat of battle prevented her giving assistance. “She will do as she does,” Mihai cursed, turning her attention back to matters at hand, hefting her sword for the coming attack. Three more times arrows flew and three more times Mihai deflected them.

Dozens of shapes were emerging from the thickets, advancing for the kill, seeing their opponents had nothing but blades to defend themselves with. A tall, muscular man suddenly appeared in front of the others, shouting orders while pointing at Mihai. “Don’t kill her! I want that bitch-worm alive…alive, I say! Don’t hurt her. Finish off the others and give their meat to the dogs, but death to any man touching my prize!”

The advancing horde stopped, waiting. No need to risk life and limb against these warriors, some the most renowned in the universe, and those blades - derker blades - a new invention of Erithia’s children, light as a feather while holding the power of the sun, with a burning edge sharper than measuring. No, they could wait until their full number was up before charging that line.

While the storm gathered itself to them, Mihai and the others studied the increasing throng. Former lovers and companions, trusted allies in life and intimate associates, that was what these depraved monsters standing before them once were. These servants of the Devil’s Keeper, Legion, were become little more than ravenous beasts, like the Stasis Pirates, only more vile and disgusting. There would be no quarter this day. All knew they would die, but they would not go quietly. The ground would run red with the blood of their enemies, theirs mixing with it as they, too, fell.

These men - for Legion would tolerate no women in his private army - were all servants of that man. The ‘Gestapo Extraordinaire’ they called themselves, taking pride in every repulsive act of violence a person could dispense upon another. These men had fallen into the Darkness long ago, having no memories of their former lives in peaceful times. Fear kept them in line - fear of Legion, their master willing to deliver even greater torments upon those failing to obey his every whim. Murder and torture were the rewards for their loyalty, the opportunity for each faithful steward to share in others’

agony, pain being the only sensual feeling remaining to tell them they still lived.

There the enemy stood in all their tattooed glory, the Cross of Damien etched on each man’s forehead, signifying him to be one of Legion’s elite guard, their helms and armor festooned with scalps of heads and pubic hair taken from living victims. Some carried pouches made of tanned breasts or scrotums filled with amulets and totems to protect them from the ever-growing number of gods and demons possessing their world.

One officer proudly adorned himself with a necklace of index fingers taken from hapless captives before they were dragged off to die, slaving in some rat-infested prison.

Off to the side, the archer who had been deprived his earlier target stepped into the open to again attempt his prize. The man’s mind raced with dreams of future rewards as though already received, for bringing down the Great Lord and Chief Advisor of Erithia, Witch of Secret Evil and Stealer of the Hidden Powers, Gabrielle, most formidable of warriors. Yes, he would be celebrated in the camp tonight, being seated at the great table, with Gabrielle’s head skewered on his pike, given any woman he desired, to do with however he pleased. Yes, sweet Carmelit! He would teach her not to spurn him! He could see it all now, a dream come true.

Gabrielle was still struggling to come to her senses, her mind share with Darla draining. She could hear a commotion around her, but understood little of what it all meant.

The archer raised his crossbow, sighting it in with a smile while squeezing the trigger. “Ah, the moment! Square through the back and into the heart…” His words were no more than spoken when a painful crash erupted in his face, the broken crossbow ripped from his hands. Stunned, he turned to his left at hearing the sounds of horns and shouting. There, at the edge of a distant wood were two men, one who had apparently shot the crossbow from his hands, the other with another weapon raised at him.

Still a bit dazed, the man could see a black dot emerge in his vision. As if chained in time, unable to move, though it seemed such an easy thing to do, the man watched the

speeding bolt rapidly approach. The arrow began to take on a distinct shape, its four-sided spear point secured to a black shaft, guided along its journey by black eagle’s feathers. Ever onward it raced, the man’s feet frozen to the ground, he little more than an observer watching the pageantry of theater being played out before him.

Slamming the man between the eyes, the arrow’s razor sharp blades tore through bone and brain, splitting the skull as the bloodied point exited the back of the man’s head, its force breaking his neck as he was knocked off his feet and sent crashing to the ground.

Within seconds, a dozen more arrows flew, bringing down more archers.

“Send ‘em to Hell! After me…!”

Mihai turned her head, wondering what death awaited them on the flank only to see Captain Lonche charging the enemy, dozens of Marines and sailors racing from the woods a few steps behind. He waved his pike, shouting, “Bring ‘em down! Bring the bastards down to Hell! ”

Legion’s soldiers stared dumbly at this new peril hurrying death upon them, their archers ducking dozens more angry arrows coming from the shadows of the woods.

Lonche and his crew only paces away, the enemy braced for the collision of steel, blade upon shield and mace upon helm, when a sudden, blinding fireball of plasmatic energy exploded between the two armies, sending people reeling, stumbling and falling.

Before either camp could muster their senses to realize what was happening, a mournful groan rose from the tortured ground, rising into a pitched scream as the world around them shook and trembled in its agony, sending ancient, giant oaks crashing from on high and tossing boulders around as though mere toys.

As suddenly as everything began, it abruptly ended. In the fading glory of the fireball appeared the comely figure of a woman, the fire’s radiant energy drawing itself into her beauteous form. A voice cried out, “Erithia!” and several Pseudes fell to the ground, making signs upon themselves with their hands while calling out to strange gods and demons for protection.

Seeing the anger in the woman’s eyes, others bowed a knee in reverential fear to their Queen of Darkness, that is, all save Legion and a few of his bravest lieutenants. He stepped forward, about to utter angry curses against his chief antagonist. Lowenah stopped him. In a raging voice like that of a she-bear confronting her cubs’ tormentors, she roared, “How dare you interfere with my purpose while trying to bring ruin to my children! Are we at war at this moment?! This is my land! My property! Intruders!

Trespassers! I should drive you from life this instant!”

While the others quailed about him, Legion dare not. He had not ruled among these murdering cutthroats all these millennia by showing weakness. Better off would he be to become dead this instant, to die a martyr, than to seek mercy from the Witch of Damnation. He boldly took a step forward, waving his arm in offense, mocking, “Do not try to impress us with stolen parlor tricks, you mother of the birds! How dare you, barren woman, bereft of suckling and youth! How dare you interfere with that which is not yours to meddle in!”

Lowenah’s anger flashed white-hot, her eyes beaming like two molten suns as she spread her arms wide, screaming, “In my belly I formed you, a gemstone of gems, your beauty greater than the Heavens. Now see the majesty that was shielded from you before the day of your birth. See the God above the Heavens and give her glory! ”

Surrounding trees suddenly burst into flaming torches, illuminating a darkening sky.

Mountains shook in torment, crumbling, splitting open, sending steaming clouds of molten ash and smoke into the heavens. In hissing madness, burning missiles of meteors and comets streaking out of the gathering black clouds crashed all around, tearing up the world in thunderous riot.

All the people except Legion fell to the ground, even Mihai quailing in fright, having never seen Mother in such a foul mood. What she might do was not hers to guess.

Legion’s men groveled in fear, crying out to their gods to save them from this madness.

Some got on their knees, begging for mercy from the Goddess-Maker of Worlds. Darla roused, semiconscious, looking into the raging storm, smiled at the tumult and faded away into dreamless sleep.

Sirion reached out, affectionately touching Periste’s placid face with bloodied fingers, weakly calling out to her, “The end of times is not so bad. The ever-world awaits us. Let us sleep until its dawning.” Her hand fell limp as the girl drifted into uncaring darkness.

In a voice of greater power than the surrounding thunders, Lowenah cried out to Legion, who stood defiant, “Legion, kneel before your Emperor God and worship me!

Do this or be forever dead! ”

Legion glanced up to see a burning missile explode from the clouds, crackling and hissing as it hurtled toward him. He dove on his face, landing right at Lowenah’s feet, the fireball smashing a giant hole in the ground where he had been standing. Instantly the storm subsided, filling the land with refreshing silence.

Shaken and unhurt, but covered with ash and dust, Legion looked up in a daze into Lowenah’s ridiculing face. She grinned, laughing derisively, “So, I still am your God!

Your giving me such glory has saved you to live another day.” Lowenah called out to Captain Lonche in a voice gentle but urgent, “Son, if you hurry, my daughters may still live. Quickly, first to Sirion as she is the most damaged, the arrow opening a deep arterial wound. Quickly! Take your troop, for there is no longer any danger here.”

Lonche acknowledged Lowenah’s command, motioning for others to assist with the wounded and injured. Sirion had regained consciousness enough to attempt to sit. By now, blood was freely oozing from her mouth and her raspy breathing labored. The woman’s head lolled from side to side, her eyes trying to focus on an advancing shadow calling her name.

Kneeling beside her, Lonche quickly realized the gravity of the moment. In seconds, the ship’s surgeon was tearing away Sirion’s blouse while a medic assisted with the instruments. She busied herself with needed battlefield surgery, cutting a wide incision across Sirion’s upper belly and, with skilled fingers, probing deep to find the source of the bleeding. When she found the damage, she frantically went to work to halt the rupture. Captain Lonche remained close the entire time, holding Sirion’s hand while gently stroking her pallid face and singing to her a sweet, healing song.

As Lonche and his team struggled to save Sirion, others were busy assisting the wounded in any way possible. Lowenah looked on, satisfied, confident her children would survive. She looked over to EhleenohrKalahnit, frowning. “Daughter, get that tended to before you bleed to death!”

Ehleenohr, standing on wobbly legs, stared dumbly at Lowenah, all the color drained from her face. As her sword fell from shaking hands, two strong arms swooped the

woman up as she collapsed. “Got ya’, my Lady!” Chisamore held her tight as he carried the woman away, shouting to some of Captain Lonche’s crew, “I’ve got an injured one here! Could use some help!”

By now, medical teams were busy with Darla, Gabrielle and Periste. Captain Lonche shouted, “No one dies today, hear?! No one!”

In a few minutes, a medic ran up to Lowenah, smiling, “All of ‘em accounted for, Mother. Snug as bugs in a rug.”

Lowenah thanked him and turned to Mihai. “The good captain’s ship is nearby. It’ll be here in a little bit to take us home.”

Mihai slumped, energy draining from her face as she smiled back, fighting to hold in tears of relief.

Coughing up dirt and grit, Legion staggered to his feet, dusting himself off while attempting to show no fear or awe of Lowenah’s display of power. After regaining his stance, he squinted and angrily rebuked Lowenah. “You have no right to interfere in police activities! These are the people who are in trespass! This territory has been claimed by my people for several millennia without any protest from you. Those…!

Those…!” He wagged a finger toward Mihai, “Those criminals have destroyed property and murdered good, innocent citizens of this land. My people have only acted to bring these agents of wickedness to justice!”

“Oh stuff it, mouth boy, sissy-girl of your dark master!” Lowenah acidly retorted.

“These people came here on my orders. And this is not your territory! Squatter! Thief!”

Legion cursed, arguing his case. “There, in distant thickets, lie two of your own children, murdered by that witch woman!” He pointed at Gabrielle, who was being assisted onto a stretcher. “And one of your own daughters was struck down by an archer’s bolt! She had no weapon to defend herself!” Before Lowenah could respond, Legion assailed her further. “And that tramp!” He frantically waved toward Darla, still being cared for where she lay. “That tramp overstepped all the rules of diplomatic agreement, an agreement you swore an oath to long ago. That thing took materials from our world and delivered them into the worlds below. It has broken all the laws, natural and good.”

“Hold your tongue little boy, or I will!” Lowenah’s anger was rising as she pointed back toward Darla. “That…that little tramp will one day haunt your dreams, stealing away your very sleep! She is my Death Star, Angel of Madness! Her sword will rip apart the Heavens! Today you have opened Hell’s gates to your own coming destruction.

My daughter will drive your armies from the skies, burn your cities to dust and, in her raging anger, shall tear asunder your mightiest warriors! She wagged a finger in his face.

“Her mercy...her mercy will equal yours! ‘Demon of Darkness’ your people will call her, quailing at the mention of the child’s very name! And” still shaking a finger, “what do you call those evil machines you make and implant in my helpless children in the Lower Realms in order to control them with pain, fear and suffering? Isn’t that as wicked a deed as any my daughter committed, and for much more sinister purposes?!”

Legion refused to publicly acknowledge Lowenah’s prophecies of doom, caustically shooting back, “You’re out of line! We may design our machines here, but if you took the time to search the facts, you would see how empty your accusations are. We use only the elements common to all worlds in their making. We do not wish to use them! Your creation leaves us no choice…rebellious bastards, no accounts. We need our machines to

control those very creatures that you cast away.” He shrugged, “So we are forced to rule as best we can.” Then he angrily shook a finger back in Lowenah’s face, accusing, “Your children have overstepped their rights by forcefully intruding into our business and the way we govern those apish miscreants!”

Lowenah’s rebuff was equally accusative. “And I suppose your rape and torture of Ishtar, and the forced imprisonment of Cephas and the other innocents is also necessary to keep my castaways under control? Listen, you,” she poked a finger at him, “those machines you used on my child pushed things over the line! You may claim rulership over the Lands Below for the moment, but my children are a free people. If you want to live another day, it will do you well to mind who of those apish miscreants you dabble with!”

Legion shrugged, pleading innocence. “Who am I? I can’t oversee everything.

Things often happen that are beyond my control. I can’t be everywhere at once, don’t have palace magic to move about like you. Besides, as you said, that brattling is a free person. I can’t help it if she flirts her charms in front of desperate prison guards.” He snarled, “Brattling got what she deserved! Besides, as your own chatterer once said,”

pointing toward Mihai, “‘Pay back Caesar’s things to Caesar.’ She lives in Caesar’s world and is one of his subjects. You have no part at all in the decisions of that lord, for he is one of my servants. Under law, I can do with my servants as I please.”

Lowenah’s retort was swift. “You have no hold on that child, for she is my child now! You sold her to me by the blood of my daughters here!” She waved a hand back toward the wounded being tended. “And besides, fool, her test is passed and you and your worthless god-king failed!”

Legion’s bewilderment was obvious.

Lowenah sneered, answering his unspoken question, “Loyalty purchased with bribes and threats must be ever watched. Lift the bonds from a slave and see his allegiance fade. Will he not spit upon his former master, once freedom is assured? The child is a free woman now. No longer can your threats or incantations hold her in servitude!”

His nostrils flaring hot with anger, Legion swore oaths and curses, jabbing a finger toward Lowenah, crowing, “The bitch-monkey dies today! She has broken the laws of her people! And I…” he thumped his chest, “I am personally taking charge of her execution!”

Lowenah’s face clouded with remorse. She had expected nothing less from this rebel, but her heart was pained in hopes of seeing something more - a tiny spark of humanness still living within the breasts of this man born of her flesh. She pleaded,

“What is there to gain from the girl’s torture? You will not win her back…cannot. She is a changed creature and can never return to the Darkness. Please! To the extent you show the child mercy, I will give it to you.”

“Mercy!?” Legion roared, “Mercy to that brattling whore child?! I will add seven times to the torments and humiliations she has already received. She will beg for death this day and I shall make it flee from her until she curses Cephas to his face!”

Flushing red with rage, Lowenah cursed Legion with word and prophecy. “Fool, you will not succeed! Look and see that my hand is already against you! Now listen and become afraid! I swear, as I live, like your servant, Sisera, I will sell you into the hands of a woman - a virgin child - who will hunt you down like a wounded she-bear. Your mighty men, in her anger, she will rip apart. Their flesh she will hungrily eat, and their

blood she will passionately drink. She will strip your land of inhabitants and burn your glorious city with ruination and fire. Your watchtowers she shall tear down and all your beautiful works she will burn to ashes.

“Then you...yes, you...this monkey child will tear from your living chest your beating heart, watching with glee as life fades from your eyes. And your head she will remove from off you, making it into a bowl for excrement and urine. Upon the very gatepost of your resplendent city will my daughter of destruction hang your carcass until your flesh rots from off your bones. And my daughter’s offspring will write songs of derision concerning you, singing them as they dance upon the mounds of your once mighty fortresses!

“And Zeus will become a child’s…” Legion began to offer rebuke, but Lowenah shouted, “Shut up, you! Or I will give your tongue to the maggots of the dung heap this very moment! I am not done with you! The child you cut down today - the child with the name of your sister whom you murdered upon your own bed and then lifted up to that of a goddess – ‘Ishtar’ will be the very name you will fear to speak in future days, it being too terrifying a name to behold. That child is the very weapon I will use to destroy you! She learns well, and what you have forged in the depths of Hell today will become the dragonslayer of your own flesh tomorrow.

“That child will come against you in all her vengeance. Like a maddened, horned beast, she will trample all that is yours. Two more times you will humiliate the girl, but upon her third return, when the King of Kings has been glorified, shall my Sword of Destruction come again, and she will strike down the usurper king of Memphis and all that is his. And as you did to my children in days before, the bones of your people will be scattered across the Low Plain of Decision, never to see a burial or be given a remembrance.”

Those of Legion’s guard hearing Lowenah’s curses and pronouncements quailed, crying and moaning in fright. The few who had stood fell back to their knees, seeking solace from incantations and beseeching prayers to their gods, but none dared request mercy from their mother. Legion, afraid as he was, ordered them, ‘Shut up, or be put to death!’

Lowenah pointed again toward Darla. “The flesh of my daughter will become more desirable to your master than that of his sissy-girl, he wanting her above all others. In the day your lover requests you deliver that tramp into his hand, you will know that the one you murder today has been lifted up to this world. Your sleep will flee from your eyes and you will dread the night. Her destruction will haunt your waking thoughts, but you will find no relief…only the sword of the Whirlwind who will extinguish your world, leaving it desolate and naked!”

Terrified, but unable to reveal it, Legion screamed, “The bitch-child dies today! I will make her a sign for all who follow you!” He then pronounced curses against Lowenah. “Today I will crush any who follow you, giving them deaths worse than death.

Your prophets, puppets of this whore…” he pointed at Mihai, “they will feed my cats and light my arenas! Today! Today, before the sun falls behind the mountains, Cephas will bow and worship me!”

Lowenah’s face reddened with anger. “You’d better pray he does, for should he win in contest over you this day, no man will come to give you any worship. Look! If you lose, I will make your temples the haunts of the horned demons that fly on the darkening

nights. No longer will men seek truth from you, nor give honor to you. Zeus shall no longer cause men to cower, but a tale for the suckling and sleepless child will be all that his mightiness will become.”

Legion shook his fist in defiance. “Cephas will worship me today! I will tear down my own temples if his glory does not escape your hand this day!”

Lowenah raised her hand, shaking a finger in rebuke, “You will not succeed! You are the most arrogant of fools! My hand will be against you! Already is! See, your governor is no longer a slave to you!”

A queer expression filled Legion’s face, not comprehending Lowenah’s statement.

Lowenah laughed derisively, “I thought not! You should have secured the barn before chasing my yearlings in the field. Your governor is freed of the machines you have so long used to control him. True, he does not know me, but he does recognize the feeling of being unfettered from evil bondage. Never again will he bow to your wickedness. Look today and see the servant spit in his master’s face!”

Legion’s face went white with rage, stammering in an attempt to bring his own vile curses to birth. Just as the man was raising his hand to hurl another rebuke, a droning roar echoed over the treetops, warning of an approaching ship. As eyes looked skyward, Captain Lonche’s battle frigate, Zoheret, came into view, settling down in the forest clearing.

Lowenah motioned to Lonche’s crew to gather up the wounded and board them as soon as possible, then dismissed Legion offhandedly. “You’d better leave now, or I’ll have my captain order up his ship’s guns.” She turned and walked away.

Unleashing a torrent of vile curses that were drowned out by Zoheret’s engines, Legion ranted on at Lowenah as she departed. Finally, after feeling he had shown sufficient bravery, his soldiers were dismissed. “We have more important matters to tend to! Leave these fools to their impudent chattering. Off to other business!”

In a few minutes, the enemy had melted away into the thickets, taking their dead with them. Mihai settled her sword in its scabbard, her hands still a’ tremble at the realization of just how close she and the others had come to their end. She stared at Lowenah, eyes filled with thankful wonder.

Lowenah frowned, motherly, shaking her head. “Even my own loyal children forget who I am. Why must you always believe the solution to problems rests only in your hands? Do I not have eyes? Does not the very moth send forth its secret messages to my ears, and does not the eagle tell me when the raven lifts its wings on the hunt?”

She pointed to Darla as the medics carried her up Zoheret’s loading ramp. “Only my youngest remembered to call out to me for help. Because of her, I came. Because of her, I have the bodies of living children to take home with me this day. The child afforded me the time to find your hour’s savior.” Lowenah smiled. “It was fortuitous that Captain Lonche happened this way so soon.”

Mihai bowed her head to the gentle chastisement, resting a hand on Lowenah’s shoulder. Looking around, she frowned, staring back at her mother. “Ma-we, you may fool the others, but you have not just happened upon us this hour. Darla may have saved many lives, but… but your fingers have been a lot deeper in this mess than you let on.

Have it your way. Is not your spirit in all things? And I’m so glad you have listened to the rocks cry out to you in our defense. Thank you for coming, for being here for us in our hour of need.”

Mihai fell upon Ma-we’s shoulder and began to weep, and being the gentle mother, Ma-we cradled her daughter in her arms, patiently waiting upon Mihai’s heart as it released its pent-up emotions. In time, when all other things were finished, she stepped back, softly squeezing Mihai’s arms. “Come, my little one. The day has only started and yet there is so much mischief afoot...” she winked, “my mischief.”

Mihai laughed, “So, the mouse has not escaped the cat. When all hope is lost, when only despair wafts upon the wind, then you just happen along by chance, or because of the cry of a desperate, little child. So much would I rather your rescue by accident than to have the navies of all the Heavens seeking my deliverance.” She pulled Ma-we close, giving her a tender kiss. Then, as she pondered the hour, frowned, asking, “What of the governor? How did we succeed today? Darla failed in her attempt to help Ishtar finish her test. What happened to turn this day around?”

Ma-we grinned, “My child, how little you understand.” Taking Mihai by the arm, she started for the ship. “Darla did not fail. I caused a deep sleep to come upon the child when her work was finished to keep her life within her. You see, I could afford no help to come to Ishtar in her greatest hour which, by the way, will one day be made into song and legend. No, her test needed to match the glory she will eventually attain to. If I had not forced her lone stance, the torments I permitted this day would have been all for naught.”

Mihai puzzled over her mother’s words.

Ma-we stopped, smiling. “I needed to prove to all my children the metal of this woman, for what I’m going to request of them concerning her. Oh, had she failed, I would not have held it against her soul, for the test was great…greater than most will ever face. But had she failed, her position of glory would have been forfeit. Now though, no one will ever be able to question my wisdom and choice in appointing this child upon the mountains to stand beside the others I have made into gods over my creation.”

“Ma-we!” Mihai groaned, rolling her eyes. “Do you always need to speak in riddles? And what position do you conjure before me as you speak?”

Ma-we gently poked Mihai in the ribs, offering a coy reply. “Riddles? Why do you think I always riddle with you? Oh well, whatever you may think. I…well, all I will say is this. There is a power that is yet to rise in this land, and that girl may one day rival you in glory and majesty. I will twist the minds and bend the hearts of all my children in all my realms. Look, I have fooled them even now into believing what they wish. It serves my purpose, you know...”

Mihai nodded, realizing it useless to probe for answers to Ma-we’s puzzles when the mood was upon her. ‘Better leave it go to the breeze.’ “What of the governor? What has happened to him?”

Ma-we looked toward the ground, contemplating, “Oh, yes, the governor. Um, I had a little chat with the fellow today. Explained to him how I felt about what was going on, suggested a change of attitude.” She looked into Mihai’s face, her eyes twinkling. “You know, he is really quite a reasonable man when he understands the issues. I think I can depend on him to do us well today.”

Ma-we changed the subject. She looked up to see that Captain Lonche had secured the injured aboard Zoheret. He and some of the ship’s crew were waiting their arrival.

“My dear, the good captain there wishes to rendezvous with his escorts and then offers to

take us on another adventure.” She pulled on Mihai’s arm, hurrying her along. “There’s mischief afoot! And I don’t want to miss a moment of it...”

* * *

Treston hurried up the stairs to the royal viewing stand where the governor and his guests were seated. He motioned to Claudesius, worried eyes portending bad news being delivered. Ogust and Jusslin sat directly behind the governor, lost in mindless merrymaking, wine flowing down their gullets in rivers. Claudesius excused himself, no one paying him any attention, meeting Treston as he reached the landing.

Drawing a breath and forcing a smile, just in case others were watching, Treston leaned in close, speaking in just above a whisper, “News of Ishtar’s revolt against the emperor has traveled swiftly. The jailers and guards are near to rioting. They’re so angry that no amount of persuasion or bribery could get them to ease up on the tortures prepared for the girl today. Even my threats of possible repercussions from you would not move them to show pity, some even threatening to burn the palace if the child is given any mercy.”

A shocked surprise flashed across Claudesius’ face, followed by a worried frown.

“What about her? Where is she? Is she safe?”

Treston responded, “For the moment... The people who want to see the girl publicly executed are holding back the hands of these self-proclaimed executioners. I also have four of my most trusted guards by her side, all having sworn allegiance to the death in carrying out my orders to keep her secure. Still, they will be able to offer protection only to the arena’s gates. Why, the dog keepers even refused to speak with me, throwing accusations of disloyalty at me for protecting the girl.”

Sighing disappointedly, Claudesius replied, “Let us pray she is a goddess, or at least her God has chosen to protect her. There’s nothing I can do now,” he motioned behind him, whispering, “especially with those two goons watching my every move. Ogust is pissed off at me, has been all day, since the gods haven’t stopped the stink coming up from the harbor. And then when he found out I didn’t include him in the morning’s fun with the cats? I think he’s searching for an excuse to make trouble for me. Won’t be the first time he’s brought the emperor’s wrath down on some hapless victim.”

With furrowed brow, Treston asked nervously, “Do you think the gods are angry with us for trying to rescue the girl?”

Claudesius stared at the marble floor. “Possibly, but it’s too late now. We have set our sails in a fickle wind and must trust upon it to carry us through.” He looked Treston in the face. “Besides, I want to see this to the finish. Tell me, do the gods really rule our lives? Is there one Almighty God? Treston, I know you have a mind. Can you provide me an answer?”

Treston frowned, also looking toward the floor.

Claudesius sighed, “I saw things today that no living man has witnessed. I saw the face of a majestic being in the eyes of that woman, for it was not by her voice that the knowledge of Heaven and Hell was delivered to me. I will…must put this God of Ishtar’s to the test today. Whatever the cost to me, it will be a small price to have my questions answered.”

Treston agreed. “I did not witness the worlds beyond this one as you have, but the shadow realms of the nether-regions passed my visions this very day. I felt the cold breath of Death and the heated flames of an angry hour. Something… someone… some ancient power arose from fathomless depths to take possession of the moment, sweeping away any and all other gods before it. My Lord, if there is not one god, there is certainly the God, the ruler over all other gods. He, I believe, rose in defense of his child this day.”

Without thinking, he reached out, grasping the governor’s arm. “I will return to the prison hole and see what my strength can accomplish.”

Claudesius clasped his hand, smiling, “Good! Good! Thank you. We shall see what this Yehowah can do!”

* * *

Zoheret and its escort ships skimmed low over an ancient saltwater lake, settling down just north of its brackish, swampy shores. The lake, ringed by snow-covered mountains on a vast, high plain was the last remnant of a once majestic sea torn asunder and lifted ever skyward by the ravages of time, this one lone symbol of its greatness all that remained.

Huge, horned beasts made a hasty retreat from their morning frolic when the ships opened their exhaust vent doors, filling the air with a screaming hiss of billowing steam erupting from the super-coolers of whining engines in their rapid shutting down. In a few moments all had quieted and the giant, golden, metallic birds rested peacefully on the ever-changing savannah. In ones and twos, the cautious animals rose from their secure hiding places of spiny trees and thickets and braved the open distance between them and the teasing waters, soon returned to splashing and playing in the marshy green soup.

(Author’s note : This was a pleasant time in the Middle Realm, a time when the universes were in reconcile, when the aura of all life reflected itself in strange and curious ways. Here was a land where the images of the realms beneath and above mated in orgasmic embrace to bring to birth a world that mimicked all realms, with wildly exotic forms of life oddly different from yet so strangely familiar to the minds and hearts of those who sojourned here. Then there were the laws of this universe - so contrary to all others - a land that paid no heed to rules of nature but made up its own as if by whim.

When the most ancient of the children braved the foreboding darkness of the mystical portals, they happened upon a world that defied explanation. This world teemed with countless forms of life that tested the logical imagination. Life found no measure nor conformed to any rule. The children soon fell in love with the queerly intoxicating dreaminess of this land.

But there was one discovery about this universe that caused it to become victim to the continuous wars of the Rebellion. One of the strangest of properties in this peculiar place was the way in which it altered matter delivered here from other universes. This was not well understood until after the discovery of the Lower Realms.

A popular EbenCeruboam theory was that the matter making up one universe was sub-atomically different from that of another, based upon the belief that there are many universes, coexisting in clusters, or possibly in a super-cluster, occupying the same physical space with only their different constructs separating one dimension from the

other, the theory finally confirmed by Hull and Copeland with the development of SpatialEquanosis Projection explained in great detail in Copeland’s physics thesis, Flying the Albatross Beyond Time’s Reign.

Another EbenCeruboam theory stated, in part, that should matter from one universe come in contact with matter from another, a catastrophic reaction would ensue. In fact, it was the later confirming of this theory that led to the development of plasma kaolinite, used in clearing space debris, and to the mendilevium warheads of the latter rebel wars.

This matter/antimatter reaction was first experienced by earthly men when, in the final part of the Third Age, a small piece of debris from a Pseudes warship inadvertently bypassed the Middle Realm and fell into the planet’s atmosphere, exploding over a wilderness forest in a place once called ‘Siberia’. With this theory confirmed after the discovery of the Lower Realms, the properties of the Middle Realm became invaluable.

So it was that when the Lower Realms were first discovered by Lowenah’s children, they could only peer into the Realms Below as if through a looking glass, the sub-atomic differences between the universes making any voyaging from one to the other impossible.

Eventually, as though by chance, it was found that by first passing most matter through the Middle Realm, this matter would atomically alter, creating a symbiotic, coexisting relationship in the other universe. Advancing technology eventually permitted people with special suits to personally walk upon the surface of the planets in the Lower Realms.

In time, Chrusion (Asotos) and his scientific cartel developed the process known as

'tibithal fibularinism', the process through which an artificial body - or physical avatar -

is melded with, grown into and over the cells of the person, creating a living suit of sorts

– a body within a body. Tibithal fibularinism permitted Lowenah’s children to experience the Lower Realms in similar fashion to the Upper Realms. It was by this process that the rebels of later ages were able to cohabit with the women of Earth to produce a super race of humans known today as ‘Fellers’.

What made all these things possible was the Middle Realm. Everything needed to pass through the Middle Realm to be filtered through its sub-atomic state before entering into another universe. After the Rebellion began, both sides fought feverishly for control of the strategic portals and locations within that realm. That is why a sojourner to those lands today will discover so many memorials to the thousands of brave and stalwart warriors who fought and died there, defending the Children’s Empire and its interests.

The author has not segued from the account, but only succinctly described the lengthy dissertation Lowenah presented to Mihai as they walked along the worn and weathered rocky path that delivered them to their special destination. Other than what has been italicized for the reader’s benefit, the gist of the account is thus summed up here. Lowenah does not speak frivolously, but she does enjoy using many words when a few may suffice. ‘Better to bore them with knowledge than to quickly fill them with ignorance and misinformation…’ was her reply to the author’s questions when asking her about this event.)

With a sudden snap! followed by the quiet drone of servos, the forward ramp of Zoheret slowly fell away from the ship’s belly, revealing two lone figures riding down upon it. No sooner had the ramp’s motors stopped than they were off and about their business, quickly immersed in serious conversation.

Mihai was long troubled about this nearing hour, especially since witnessing Legion’s display of obstinate resolve to punish Lowenah through his sick, cruel torture of Ishtar. Now that hour was upon them and she felt need to seek, again, some form of rescue for the girl. “But I still don’t understand, Mother, why my child has to die this day, especially in the horrid way that despicable man intends to do it.”

“Your child?” Ma-we cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. “Your child? How little you know. Oh well...” Ma-we took hold of Mihai’s hand and invited her for a stroll.

Ma-we sucked in the invigorating mountain air, smiling, “My children have found this world so peculiar and riddling and yet, as with me, are ever drawn to its intoxicating delights.” She reached down, breaking away a stalk of green hay, biting it off to just the right length, gripping it with her teeth. Her eyes rolled upward, half closed. “You know, even I forget just how wonderful life is. It has grown past me, taken on a power of its own, you might say. Doesn’t need Mother anymore...” She grinned whimsically.

“That’s how I made it….life, I mean.”

Closing her eyes, she returned to her earlier thoughts. “My daughter, Rachel – Darla

- reached out to your child by my will. She used what few tools were at her disposal.

The money, gown, vision - all the things she did were with my approval, but by her own power, something she knows nothing about, nor would she believe it to be so if I told her.

You see, the Middle Realm enhances a person’s spirit and mental mindset, that is if a person is in tune with the harmonics of the universe.”

She peered into Mihai’s eyes. “There are few of my children who are more in tune with the Third Element than my child RachelOchlah.” Slowly shaking her head, Ma-we mused, “I do so love that name, but my daughter chooses to use one of her own invention. I don’t know why, though I can understand her reasons for doing so.” Ma-we wagged a finger, “You know, Rachel managed to get Ishtar out of that prison for real.

Now that’s a trick! And then she got her back again…pretty good for a person who doesn’t even know her own mind…yet,” grinning, “I’m so proud of her!”

Ma-we stopped, staring from the rise back toward Zoheret resting peacefully nearly a league away. After a moment of silent meditation, she turned her gaze to the distant hills, pointing, “There, that’s our destination. I wanted us to be alone.” She took Mihai’s hand and started down the ridge in that direction.

After the two had walked in silence for some time, Ma-we stirred, acting as though coming out of a dream. “Child, do you want to know a secret, one I have never revealed to another of my children?”

Mihai stopped, the tone of her mother’s voice betraying a rare excitement. “Please!

Yes, Ma-we, please tell your little child one of your secrets.”

Ma-we peered into the enchanted sky filled with a rainbow of dancing sheets of mesmerizing hues of gold, green, blue and red that would remind one of the northern lights. For the longest time she said nothing, as if forgetting she had asked a question at all. Finally, as if talking to herself, Ma-we softly offered, “This is where it all began...”

squeezing Mihai’s hand as she stared up and into her eyes through tear-filled orbs, “the beginning of all mortal life, I mean, right here, in this Middle Realm. This place is the heart of my universes.”

Mihai’s mouth fell open, the shock rendering her speechless.

Ma-we grinned, “That’s right! This place is my secret seat of power, the Land Of Knowledge, the Great Pyramid of Wisdom, the World Beyond Law, the Fountain of Youth, Shangri-La, and every other title your brother has declared my palace on EdenEsonbar to be. Right here, under his very nose, resides everything the fool’s been seeking for so many millenniums. That’s right! He’s been prowling around a long time to discover my secrets and they’ve been right here all along.”

Resting hands on hips, Ma-we scanned the pageantry around her, nodding in satisfaction. “And the fool’s too stupid to ever understand it, even if I told him to his face. Stupid fool!” Shaking her head, she added, “Wouldn’t know what to do with it if he did believe me. Works on harmonics…the Third Element, you know.”

Regaining her senses, Mihai asked, “What is the Third Element of EbenCeruboam?

The elusive elixir of life?”

Still studying the distant hills, Ma-we answered, “Your kind thinks life here mimics that of the other realms. So wrong! So wrong! Here…” she spread her arms high and wide, “this universe is like jelly, everything stuck to it in order to survive. From this universe comes all life, all being.” She spun around, facing Mihai, her eyes beaming,

“Do you believe the secrets of Eden were created in my laboratories in the Lower Realms, or possibly in my palace?” She grabbed Mihai’s hand. “Come! We must hurry.

Even I cannot surrender Time to my will.”

Despite the brisk walk, Ma-we did not tire of the tale. “This world was my home long before time as you know it began. You see, time only begins…is worth counting when you have someone to share it with. Before my mortal children, there was no need for time, for clocks, you might say. Oh silly, yes, there was time…time to do this and time to have to do that. I didn’t invent time absolute. But time does not exist unless there is a need to recognize that it does. My children made that happen for me. Oh, well, enough… This is my world, the one I chose for me and…” Mihai chanced a glance at the twinkle in her mother’s eyes. “This is the world I chose to reside in while I…er…the other universes came into existence. Oh yes, I created this place, or oversaw its creation.”

“Mother, your riddles hurt my ears!” Mihai winced as if in pain.

Ma-we laughed, “I will show you all my secrets. Yes. Yes, one day I will show you everything I have done, maybe even my child, Rachel. Yes, I will! We will travel to my eternal home, my home beyond the stars, to a world no mortal can imagine.” She laughed again. “Yes! Yes! That is why I made you…all of you. Yes!”

Ma-we sighed, “I grew up in knowledge all alone. By myself, I figured out who I was and why I was. I wasn’t lonely, because I didn’t know what loneliness was. How could I? Then I created life inside me, but it was real, still is. Then I made life grow until I sent it out beyond my living self to warm the dark nothing surrounding me. Oh, to make something independent of yourself and yet so full of symbiotic spirit! It’s so wonderful! And then I made…” Ma-we stopped in mid-sentence, studying her daughter, then, as if jumping across chapters of a story, began anew. “One day I made my children, birthed them, and fell in love with them. I have stayed here with them ever since. One day I will bring them to my real home far from here, unreachable to mortal flesh. They will come to my home and light the rooms with laughter and mirth, and…and…” she frowned, “I will never be lonely again.”

As they skipped lightly down some worn granite steps, Ma-we replied to Mihai’s earlier question. “The Third Element? What a wonderful thing. You’ve studied it well.

Suffice it to say that what you know of it at the moment is well enough for the good of all. One day, maybe, though you do use it so well, yes, yes, so well, you and my child, Rachel.”

Upon coming to a field filled with jepson lilies and crystal-jade butterflies, Ma-we changed the subject. “I do not like death…not of my children, and I do not wish to be alone during the coming moment. Ishtar has served her purpose well and now must shed her flesh this day to begin a new journey that will change all things for all time.”

Surprised, Mihai exclaimed in question, “You’re bringing her to us now?! In this the hour and time?!”

Shaking her head, Ma-we answered, “No! No, not today. There will be others of her kind who will walk among us before her feet skip across my palace floor. Still, there is much the child must learn before that day. She will not sleep as many do, but I will be working with the child all the days between now and then. I will give her knowledge beyond knowledge and wisdom extraordinaire. Long will be the years before I accomplish all that is to be done with the child.”

Looking into Mihai’s eyes, Ma-we added, “Ishtar’s personality will belong to her for changing, something that I believe will test the souls of your brothers and sisters. I already feel sorry for some of the old stick-in-the-muds we have among us. She will be quite trying. Spoiled the girl is, foolish and impetuous to the point of being arrogant, the very qualities it will take for her to accomplish her responsibilities.”

Mihai was quick to ask, “I know the river ever flows and the rain is master over all save the sun, but as the dam can break the river’s stride and the clouds can steal away the sun’s power, I know that you abide death’s glory only in its purpose served. So, as I have asked and not forgotten, why must Ishtar die such a horrid death at the hands of evil men?

And why today? Are a few fleeting years of youthful life not a gallant reward for her loyal actions? Is her training so important that a little time given her to be a woman is such a small thing to ask?”

Ma-we’s face clouded, her voice filling with remorse, but she spoke beyond Mihai’s question. “I mourn Merna’s death. Such a waste… But she is not the first to fall victim to the evils of that world. I will reward her with knowledge, wisdom and power. Her shy lack of confidence will one day disappear. See what the woman becomes then. Oh, and for her unborn, there will be many willing surrogates to nurture and birth the child of a king.” She looked away toward the ground, hiding a tear. “I did not want Merna to die, not today or any day, and I do not wish to see Ishtar suffer.”

Mihai interrupted, her eyes aglow with passion, “Then why? Why will it have to be so?”

Ma-we took Mihai’s hands, kindly scolding, “Remember, it is the slower mouse that escapes the trap. Be patient and learn. True, I have the power to stop the wickedness that will soon swallow up the soul of our child. But it is my power that is being challenged. I have been charged as unfit because they say that I use my power to give gifts and rewards in order to buy the loyalty of my servants. So then, I hold back my hand to prove it isn’t true, swearing by an oath what I say is true. No sooner are the words out of my mouth than all evil is unleashed against the world of men, creating a land in which terrible things happen to innocent people.”

Waving her arms in frustration, Ma-we mourned, “Look at the tortures so many suffer…indescribable, violent! I ask you, do you think a baby driven down upon a stake, its innards skewered through, suffers more than its mother who is forced to watch it slowly die? Yes, they both suffer horribly. But what does your brother foment against me. ‘It is the will of God! It is the will of God!’ his prophets cry. Then, to my face, they accuse me of cruelty for not rescuing the innocent from the murders they commit.”

She sputtered angrily, “By the use of treachery, these purveyors of evil take the very laws of freedom that I made to protect the minds and hearts of my children…the freedom that allows my children to choose without interference their own roads traveled…and then drive my innocent children upon those sharpened stakes of lies, forcing me to watch, helpless, as my children, in agony, die.”

Sadness grew on Ma-we’s face. “You must believe me when I tell you that I do not wish Ishtar to die this day or any day…and not as Legion has prepared it to be.” She paused, gazing away toward the hills, and then again into Mihai’s eyes. “Yet, my hands are tied.”

She stroked Mihai’s arm. “My dear, death comes to all humans. Tell me, does it pain less to hang upon a stake than to be torn apart by a wild boar? Or does a person burning up in a fire hurt less than one torched in the emperor’s arena? Or, is a slow cancerous death better than being forced to drink of the hemlock weed? My dearest of my daughters, death through agony is common to earthly men, and Ishtar’s death by torture no more painful than what has been blessed upon countless others.”

Looking deep into Mihai’s eyes and upon seeing such sadness there, Ma-we promised, “For you, for your sake, since you have chosen to become mother to this child, I will soften her blow. Oh yes, her death will come, but I will allow you to force the contest so that your child will pass quickly, like the piercing through of the heart.” She smiled. “Your hands are not tied!”

Mihai affectionately squeezed Ma-we hands, kissing her softly on the lips. After thanking her, she gave her mother a smothering hug. “Please, my lovely One, I thank you for your gift to me, but remember, please, your loyal daughter. Never have I doubted your love and never have I seen you do one thing out of selfishness or cruelty. I trust that death, no matter how vicious, has no lasting power against the ones you love, and it seems that you have love for everyone.” She paused, a question popping into her mind, stepping back, asking, “How could you offer Legion the gift of mercy when he has already surrendered his soul to the damned, given his spirit to the winds of the universe?”

Ma-we turned away, studying the distant hills. As if addressing an invisible host, she asked, “Has he?” Moments passed. In time, she looked around, peering questioningly into Mihai’s face. “Do you know for sure he’s gone? Who has whispered the matter into your ear? Can you see into the vast Web of the Minds to secure the answer?” Stepping back and looking down the trail, she offered, “Who is wicked beyond hope? Who is erased from the Book of Records? That, my Dear, I have chosen not to know… There are forces beyond your reach who choose what I wish not to see. Oh yes, I know the results of evil, the severing of soul and mind, but I do not do the severing.”

She took Mihai’s hand, caressing it so tenderly. “Child of mine, I built a universe upon laws that transcend heart and mind. The Third Element, my sweet child, it is that element that holds all things together…and it also tears asunder. The soul of the universe is woven into it, lives off it, exists because of it. Your brother, Chrusion, departed that

universe long ago, becoming a life unto himself, a dying ember cast away from the fires of spirit and life. So it is with any who forsake the Third Element. By special mightiness of personal strength and mental fortitude, the person may live many millennia before succumbing to old age and death. But it will come. In ten, twenty, a hundred thousand years, it will come.”

Wiping a tear from her eye, Ma-we added remorsefully, “Your brother is gone. I know that. But of the others…my children…my children. I…I have held…hold out hope for some of the others.”

Looking into the sky, she sighed, “All things are mathematical equations painted upon the Heavens by the brush of indelible certainty. I cannot change one stroke of that brush lest the universes would collapse into lifeless smoke and ash. That brush sweeps its bristles of fate across all my children, all life, comparing their artistry against the eternal pattern of itself. When it concludes the mismatch to be too great, it removes the potential threat of discord from the universes. And in the Day of Readjustment, when Gradian’s Clock chimes on the twelves, and all the universes are realigned with the Third Element, then all that is out of harmony with the final equation ceases to exist.”

Ma-we shook her head in sadness, “I need not tell my daughter these facts, for has she not witnessed them many, many times during her own existence? How great is the magnitude of species of animals that have reached the limit of cohesive, genetic viability that have been swept from life, saving only their harmonically balanced relatives to rebuild a depleted universe? And is that not part of the reason you needed to pass through the depths of the Lower Realms, to bring about a saving of those people?”

Mihai was filled with questions. Ma-we was in no mood to answer them. “Another day, child, another day. For now, listen and learn. My lovely, dear, sweet, innocent child, all things are ruled over by what’s mathematical…that cruel, heartless equation based upon a furtive mind’s reasoning long before that mind understood her own heart. It is a good thing, though, for as much as that heartless equation seeks only its own logic and reason, it creates a stable environment for freedom, something that a fickle heart would be so willing to steal away to satisfy its own desires.

“You see, guilt and wantonness are measurements made by the heart seeking a balance for its own feelings. The Third Element has grown to understand those feelings, but it refuses to base its judgment upon them. It sees not the feeling but the harmonics.

Too far out of harmony and poof! out of life. It cares not for man or beast. It cares for harmony. It must bring all things back into balance…peace. It is the beast that will destroy all life if that is what it takes to return harmonic balance.”

Ma-we again faced the distant hills, lowering her head. “A necessary tool for keeping the clocks of all my universes from falling into chaos becomes the very weapon that may yet destroy all my works of life in those very universes. It is a machine run by machines. Still, when it is gathered to the heart, it becomes a weapon of life instead of death.” Looking into Mihai’s face, she smiled, nodding, “A weapon for life! Yes, indeed, when gathered to the heart, an unbeatable one!

“Let’s walk.” Ma-we took Mihai’s hand. “You see, I have never tested the limit of the Web of the Minds to know how far it will stretch before abandoning its host. For that reason, I don’t know how far a wayward child can go before all hope is forfeit.”

Mihai looked at her mother in wonder. Here was the Maker of the universes fighting her own inner demons of self-doubt and determined resolve. No, she had made the

universes so that the greatest gift given her children could never be stolen from them, but that guarantee came at great cost to her, the wiles of the Fates deciding her own destiny.

Forces? What forces was her mother speaking of? Were there others who ruled distant realms beyond the reach of the children and controlled the fate of their world?

Ma-we interrupted Mihai’s thoughts. “Legion crossed the line today. There is no longer a returning for him. That I know now, it being whispered to me across the breeze of time and space. But until I heard that whisper, I found hope - hope that a spark of that Third Element might still remain living in his heart. I see now that it is gone. He is no more…” With that revelation, Ma-we became silent, eyes cast ever down, hidden from Mihai’s own prying orbs. The two traveled on for some time before Ma-we renewed any conversation.

At length they came to a tiny lake, its blue, tepid waters beckoning them to luxuriate in a refreshing splash. Neither accepted. Upon reaching a narrow strip of sandy beach, Ma-we motioned for Mihai to sit. While staring across the glassy, smooth surface of the lake, Ma-we pined, “There is nothing else for it. The hour has come and, should I delay any longer, our daughter will not benefit from our help. I have great need of your service, for my hands are tied, but yours have not the power to do what must be done.”

Mihai answered quickly, not waiting to hear further, “Whatever it is that I can do is mine to give to you. Ask! Please, just ask!”

Ma-we smiled grimly, a serious tone carried on her voice. “You shall think better of your offer tomorrow. I will accept it, along with my apologies. I have no other choice.

My strength I shall pour into an unprepared body. You will have but little time to accomplish our purpose and then the shock on your system shall take over, making you believe your death rides upon the day…possibly wishing it be so. It may be several days before you heal.”

Mihai closed her eyes. “Your slave girl...”

“Here, take my hands and look into my eyes,” Ma-we requested. Mihai reached out and, sitting up on her knees, took Ma-we hands, she sitting the same way. Ma-we sighed,

“Your brother put me under oath long ago. I had no choice. It was the only way I could slow his interference in the Realms Below. I cannot directly intrude in this day’s events.

Once your spirit leaves us here, I will be unable to return it for many hours without causing you great harm. Helpless, you will have to see the child you love torn and destroyed by the wicked acts of Legion and his infested hordes.”

Mihai smiled reassuringly, “No! It is I who am honored by your request. Better would it be for me to perish forever accomplishing your service than to live an eternity having neglected your smallest request. Tell me what you wish me to do.”

Tiny waves rippled across the blue-green waters as Ma-we’s harmonic tune increased in its melodious pitch. The women’s long strands of hair began to float on the gentle breeze until, like the wings of newborn butterflies, they danced and swayed to the whispering song playing on the air. Soon, all Mihai could hear was her mother’s song, it sweeping away all other senses as it, itself, took possession of her very being. In moments, she was withdrawn from her surroundings into a rainbow-filled cacophony of wild colors and heart-numbing music.

When the final, fire-red cosmic gasp passed Mihai’s eyes, the woman found herself floating free above the crowded city of Ephesus, quickly drawing close to the arena.

Already she could feel her mother’s energy overpower her own will. There was no time to waste if she was to effect a coup on her brother this day.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Mihai was hurrying toward the prison gates.

Though physically unable to change matters, she being invisible to all around her, with her mother’s mental powers channeled through her, she could move the world.

* * *

Hanna stood aghast, watching the wild pageantry of chaos enveloping this world of madness. She had arrived early at the arena dressed as a poor vendor selling sweetroot treats. As hoped, no one paid any attention to an old woman scurrying along with a basket of widow cakes, pungent bread made from coarse, ground barley flour blended with sweet mint root with a flake of cinnamon and a dab of honey. It was a concoction made by the humblest of people, those of very little means, the reason for the name

‘widow cakes’. Surprisingly, the old woman had already been parted from several, feeling it must be out of pity.

Stealthily making her way to the upper concourse where the entire arena was clearly visible and within earshot of the governor’s station, Hanna settled down to wait for the start of events. The view was disquieting. There were some contests going on before the official start, mostly local fellows trying to prove themselves, often with violent, bloody consequences. And then she saw the herding along of some of the condemned from the North Market Street Prison, a few who she knew. The chanting of the gathering throng convinced Hanna there would be little mercy shown this day.

Suddenly, a raging storm struck unexpectedly. Few escaped the torrent of rain and punishing hail before they secured shelter. Hanna, standing under the overhang of an upper portico, was spared the violent rush of angry winds and drenching downpour. As the tempest whipped its fury across the city, a violent quake shook the arena, scattering the terrified crowd back into the cyclonic maelstrom. Pressing her body against an inner wall, the woman watched in confused wonder at the tumult. People stumbled and fell, screaming in fear. Towers swayed and groaned as if in pain. All the while, standards and flags danced as though an invisible army was marching them along on parade.

Rumbling and quaking had long subsided before Hanna could force herself away from the tiny alcove in the wall. Finally, with determined resolve, she managed to work her way back to the wide portico overlooking the arena floor far below. Hundreds had departed, either desirous of seeing what damage may have occurred elsewhere in the city or, as some had voiced, ‘It was not a good day because the gods were in a foul mood.’

This did not dampen the raucous spirit of the remaining throng, many of them crowding into the commons, a standing-room-only walled concourse directly across from Hanna.

Blaring of a dozen horns marked the beginning of festivities. This was an extraordinary day, being declared so by the governor, with special events added, one of which was a breathtaking parade filled with contestants, musicians and decorated wagons filled with all kinds of wild and fearsome beasts. Gladiators dressed in armor of copper, silver, and iron with helmets plumed with peacock feathers dyed in hues from gold to purple marched proudly behind the trumpeters, cymbalists and drummers, closely followed by athletes, gymnasts, and other Olympic-style performers. It was truly a grand sight, the likes of which the woman had never seen.

Hanna’s attention suddenly tore away from the mesmerizing pageantry when bolted planks securing the western arena gates exploded skyward, terrified guards in their death throes screaming as they were crushed by flying timbers from the ruined gates. Two raging, panicking elephants stormed through the shattered opening, bellowing in fright, charging blindly into the marching parade, sending its participants fleeing in terror, overturning wagons, leaving a sea of carnage and death in their wake. Wide-eyed, Hanna stared in disbelief as what looked to her like the belly of Hell disgorged all the beasts of the Earth upon the chaotic scene.

Out of the middle of this confused melee raced a caged wagon filled with ferocious, giant, wild cats. A double team of eight horses was running blind, a troupe of African monkeys jumping and yanking on their manes, screeching in crazy excitement. Paying no heed to the helpless teamster who was frantically pulling on the reins and shouting curses drowned out by the deafening tumult, the frightened animals raced headlong into the southern retaining wall supporting the packed commons. A thirty-foot section of the earthquake-weakened wall collapsed in dust and rubble, pitching scores of surprised revelers into the roiling mass below.

The lifting dust cloud revealed a writhing pile of living flesh, both of men and beasts.

Kicks of dying horses entangled with the flailing, frantic arms and legs of men and boys trying to escape the jumble of splintered wood and jagged masonry. All the while the roar of angry jungle cats now escaped from their iron prison roused a panic in the hearts of every living being struggling midst those ruins. Destruction and confusion filled the arena, but what lurked behind plastered walls was even more terrifying.

Rampaging from the blackness of hidden horrors and into this bedlam of chaotic nightmares, hundreds of men and animals fled the maze of underground chambers, cells, tunnels and passages, men and ferocious beasts paying no heed to one another. The stampeding was unstoppable, anyone or anything barring the paths of this insane avalanche run over or smashed through. No thought was given to anything other than escape - escape from the bowels of darkness and the evil within.

Though safely perched high above the arena, Hanna could not help but feel a rising panic within her own breast. As if frozen, she stared in heart-stopping wonder, sights so horrid being burned into her brain that it would take weeks before the woman could find a peaceful night’s sleep. Still, she had not the power to tear her eyes away from the unfolding destruction. And the thought of what the darkness concealed deep within those caverns of Hell nearly stole her breath away to the point she felt she might die. The reason for that fear was quickly revealed.

Out of the gaping mouth of that underworld, people still fled. Bloodied and torn, they stumbled into the light. Some collapsed into the dirt, too damaged to ever move again. Others surrendered to the hysteria, flinging themselves into the heaving mass of madness surrounding them. A few kept their wits, taking up weapons and preparing a defense…too few to face the coming onslaught.

Hanna watched something fly out of the darkness, rising twenty feet into the sky before plummeting earthward. It looked much like an old torn bundle of rags until it crunched hard, splaying on the ground. A huge dog or at least what once was a dog weighing better than eight stone lay crumpled in the dirt, its body shattered and crushed.

Before her eyes could fully comprehend what they were seeing, another giant beast-dog lay broken beside the first.

Finally, when she thought her heart would burst, the raw theater of obscene violence renting itself upon this twisted stage of unreality, there arose such a cacophony of discord as to chill even a warrior’s heart. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief, Hanna gasped at seeing a mass of hideous shapes escaping from the dark abyss locked in what looked to her like the slow waltz of the damned. Her widow cakes scattered when the basket burst upon hitting the stone floor as Hanna’s hands shot to her face in terror, but no sound could escape from screaming lips.

Three giant cave bears burst forth in a tangle with a host of dogs and humans in every stage of destruction, fighting off vicious attacks of a dozen huge, frothing canines locked in a struggle to the death. At least ten cubits from nose to tail, the beasts lashed out against the onslaught of the frenzied fighting dogs. Leashes, harnesses and traces entrapped both living and dead in a macabre web of broken machinery that was once two grand coaches, each pulled by four proud steeds. Several of those horses now lay torn and broken next to what little remained of those shattered wagons.

This combative pageantry gathered in ferocity as it danced further from the darkness, the bears now so enraged that they blindly attacked one another. The dogs mercilessly tore upon neck and flank, locking powerful teeth into flesh until crushing jaws or slashing claws ripped the lifeless animal away - but away was usually not far, the dogs held secure in the jumbled leashes. As this procession cantered first to the left and then to the right, Hanna saw a bloodied corpse emerge from the darkness, a length of rope dragging him by the neck. There would be no dog master this day to release any of the governor’s judgment upon Ishtar or any trained animals to torture the girl.

As Hanna gathered her wits about her, she became sadly aware that the crowds, instead of being horrified, were shouting, celebrating, and whooping for more blood and gore. Some of the spectators even leaned over the stone retaining wall, pushing escapees from the carnage below back into the melee, laughing and shouting with glee when hapless victims were snatched away by one of the waiting cats.

Long was this unplanned circus of carnage played out before soldiers from nearby barracks could arrive to take control. Dozens of wild animals had to be killed, many dozens more captured, before the injured could be cared for, the dead removed. All the while, people in the stands shouted profanities at them for spoiling their fun.

Of course, for the victims involved, it was another story. In fact, so much had been destroyed and so many of the day’s participants disabled, it was decided not to continue with planned events. Other than for a few acrobats and a couple of bare-knuckled amateur boxing bouts to help entertain the audience while the mess was cleaned up, little other than official judicial matters were to be carried out.

Hanna still trembled long after things had quieted. Taking only time to gather up the basket, leaving the scattered widow cakes, she slowly made her way down past several rows of seating until she stood only two rods from the grand viewing box, an extended section of the arena that jutted out from the governor’s seating area. Whatever the cause or reasons for the day’s events, she did not ponder. After all, today was to mark the destiny of a new and fledgling religion. She had come to watch the outcome and pray that greater powers were listening and would intervene.

Meanwhile, Mihai’s brain was burning up as her growing headache consumed the last of her vision. The woman had done her best, driven the world mad with the powers given her. In her mind, she could see the bears tearing asunder the very animals Legion

had planned to destroy Ishtar with. Lifting her arms and crying out another curse against all living flesh, Mihai fell backward, blind, the last thing she remembered being a surge of uncontrolled vomiting as she tumbled into nothingness.

* * *

“Oh my! Oh my! Oh, what fun! Oh, what fun!” Ogust clapped his hands in excitement and then hugged Jusslin, grinning with pleasure. He nodded his approval, praising Claudesius, “Wonderful! Just so wonderful! I knew you would deliver a fine show for me. But you have even outdone any I have seen in Rome, itself! This must have been very costly, and all done for me!” He smile widened, revealing rotting teeth.

“You are a better man than I was thinking.”

Claudesius smiled back, acknowledging Ogust’s condescending approval, but his mind was elsewhere. Strange, the circus was once a most enjoyable pastime of his, few things being more pleasurable other, say, than his torture of some disgusting miscreant or the excitement over a frightened maiden’s embrace. He shuddered, the thought of such criminality turning his stomach sour.

Today, for the first time in his sordid memory, Claudesius could see the suffering and agony of both men and beasts. The wild pageantry of carnage and death sickened him as he watched the death throes of the victims play out in his head. The people whose lives were snuffed out so quickly, never to eat another tasty meal, see another sunrise, make love to a beautiful woman, just to never think, breath, or laugh again, and for what?

A few minutes of chills and thrills for a heartless gathering of bastards who pushed their own friends and relatives back into the waiting jaws of death for that moment’s excitement? He cursed himself under his breath, almost wishing to be the center of attention at tonight’s party. But that was not to be.

Earlier, when two eastern tigers had captured a young man, little more than a boy, and torn him asunder at the very base of governor’s viewing stand, Ogust and Jusslin had both celebrated the governor’s ‘magnificent presentation’, toasting him with ‘long life to the house of Claudesius’, lifting wine-filled goblets to his good health.

Treston suddenly appeared at the head of the stairs, motioning to the governor.

Ogust and Jusslin were so absorbed in the ever-changing show, they paid no attention to either the governor or Treston.

Hiding his anxiety, Claudesius cautiously made his way over, nervously asking Treston, “Does the child still live? Does she live unharmed, or has the Devil delivered her up to this?” lifting a hand, motioning to the tumult still playing itself out in the arena.

Treston nodded Ishtar’s safety, wiping bloodied sweat from his brow. He shook his head, “I… I don’t know. I don’t know...” He stared at the governor, attempting to cover terror showing in his eyes. “There’s something down there,” he pointed, “in there, I mean, in that darkness. It felt as if Hell itself rose up to meet the living. I believed I was to die, that all of us would die. My guards could feel it, too. By the gods, everyone could feel it! Everything went crazy! It just went crazy!”

Claudesius placed a reassuring hand on Treston’s shoulder, encouraging him to remain calm. “Please tell me what happened. And don’t leave out a thing. You say the girl is safe, even now?”

Treston said it was so, and then attempted his account, his eyes filling with excitement and dread. The governor marveled, thinking about this man facing him.

Godless, arrogant, heartless, and even worse, that was Treston, but honest and loyal…at least knowing what side his bread was buttered on. He had heard this man curse the gods to their faces on many drunken occasions. It was difficult to believe this was the same person speaking to him now.

“Well…uh, well….” Treston stuttered while collecting his thoughts. He finally began anew. “Well…I had only just returned to my guards who were successfully managing to keep those wishing harm to Ishtar away. Oh yes, there were vile threats and a few brave souls daring to spit at the girl, but my men did their jobs, as promised.”

Treston was proud of his personal bodyguard, trusting those four soldiers with his life and treating them like brothers.

“No sooner was I arrived than I felt this most unholy chill pass me by, filling my pounding heart with panic. It was evil, my Lord, like something…or someone filled with hateful malice, something like I’ve heard in stories told of demons, or those that are dead but seeking revenge and haunt the shadow-worlds of the living. Anyway, the faces of my men went ghostly white. I imagine mine did, too. But not that girl! No! No, not Ishtar!”

Treston swept his hand across his forehead, wiping away nervous sweat. “I swear I saw the girl’s hair stir, like someone was standing close a’ talking in her ear or something.

She smiled and closed her eyes and and…”

“And what?!” Claudesius’ voice was filling with excitement. “What?! Tell me man!

And what?!”

“And…” Treston shuddered, “and then it looked at me!” He waved his hands anxiously. “I didn’t see anything, but I could see where something was, standing there, I mean. Something looked at me and screamed in my head, ‘Git!’ At that instant, Ishtar grabbed my hand and shouted for us to follow her if we wanted to live. Nobody asked her why. We all just ran, she in the lead, pulling on me, and my boys following up real close.”

Ogust glanced Treston’s way, saying nothing. Forcing back his feelings, he motioned toward the shadows. Claudesius quietly shuffled behind Treston to a more private spot. Treston went on, his hands trembling as he talked. “We were just at the top landing near the jailer’s station, not far from the upper gallery exit, when Ishtar shouted for us to stop. She told us to circle her, holding each other close and then not to move…that is, if we wanted to keep alive. We all pressed real tight against her, me staring her square in the eyes, so close I could feel her warm breath on my face. The girl then took hold of my arms and whispered something real strange to the air. And then…and then all Hell broke loose!”

Interrupting, Claudesius anxiously asked, “What happened?! What happened then?”

Tears of nervous release ran down Treston’s face. “Some kind of madness swept the chambers like the Kriggerman and his army of the damned was entered among us! A howling that rent the air went up from all the birds and beasts, the people holding their ears from the ferocity of the noise. It was so frightening, my Lord, so frightening, I cried.

Like a little brattling baby, I cried. I wept like an old hag woman at losing her children, almost wettin’ myself. And…and I saw more than one old man keel right over dead from fright. Just over dead, like that!” He snapped his fingers.

“Then the cage doors just broke open, falling right off their hinges. There was something in the air! I felt it…an unholiness that raged those chambers, driving everything and everyone mad. The last thing I saw, for my eyes refused to keep watch any longer, was when those giant bears came tearing past, piling into the wagons and dogs like they were little sticks of kindling. I just stood there after that, wailing, my eyes shut so tight, me and my men all a cryin’ and wailin’. We were all like little babies.”

Treston sighed, lowering his head in shame. “When the danger was passed, it was the girl who had to get us to move. It took some convincing, but finally we took the exit door and hurried up here. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but bring Ishtar along with us. Dressed the way she was, nobody bothered to take notice of us.”

Claudesius grinned. “Good! Good! You say she’s here?”

Treston pointed toward the stairs. “She’s just outside, with my guards.”

Still grinning, Claudesius grasped Treston’s upper arm. “Good! Good! You did well today, my friend, well! Take Ishtar to the alcove the other side of these walls...” he glanced over his shoulder, “away from fat, prying ears. I will be along in a minute or so.”

It was an easy matter for Claudesius to escape Ogust’s and Jusslin’s company, their attention so wrapped up in the ensuing contest between the newly arrived soldiers and the wild, raging animals. He quickly entered the alcove and, after breathing a sigh of relief at seeing Ishtar safe, thanked the guards for their stalwart actions. After requesting they station themselves outside, he approached the girl, Treston standing beside her.

The governor’s hands went to Ishtar’s, lifting them up while looking into her face.

“Please,” he pleaded, “tell me truth. Are you a goddess sent here to test us? This, for a certainty, I must know.”

Ishtar smiled, her serenity unnerving as she shook her head. “I am a child born of man, my soul being birthed in most ordinary ways. Speak to that woman, my mother.

She can tell you of my birth, my conception. Women do remember who father their children. Ask her. Is she not here this day?”

No one replied.

Ishtar shook her head again. “I am no goddess. I am a child of flesh and bone. My home has been this city these many years. Your captain here,” she nodded toward Treston, “knows well the history of my life, pressing a coin into my father’s hand many times while I played as a child inside his booth on a brightly colored carpet.”

Shocked, Treston began to recall the many trinkets he purchased for his wife and little daughter from a man wearing a turban with a large feather in it. He spoke aloud, but to himself, “You were the child who made silly faces at me the day I bought that silken scarf for my wife, me putting it on and prancing around in funning.”

Ishtar agreed, replying to the governor, “You see? I am a child of your world. This city has been my home until today, but now I must take my leave for another. What I am, my Lord, is a woman-child, spoilt some say. What I am to become remains hidden in mist and shadow. My destiny awaits me. It pants on toward its finish.” She gave Claudesius a piercing stare. “And you must now hurry that destiny forward!”

Opening his mouth to make rebuttal, Ishtar raised her hand to the governor, shaking her head. “Your destiny is still uncertain. Do not bring the anger of my God down upon your people at this late hour.” At that, Ishtar lifted her arms back and over her head, pulling her dress up and off. After carefully folding it, she handed it over to a startled and dismayed governor. “Here...” she pressed the garment into Claudesius’ hands,

“return this, please, to the one it was made for, thanking her for it. Tell her that she is a woman blessed. She will one day again nurse her beloved son, her firstborn so dear to her heart, the child taken away in sickness.”

Claudesius was struck speechless, for that child lost was many years ago and in a land strange and foreign to the people of Ephesus. Ishtar smiled, watching the effect her words had on the governor. Touching the dress, she declared, “I am a free woman! I will not be indebted to any man of flesh! Naked I came into the world and naked I shall find my leave.”

Then, reaching up and touching the governor’s cheek, soothing it in the way his mother did when he was but a child, Ishtar cautioned softly, “Remember this day and all you witnessed. Rare does the God over Heaven and Hell treat your kind with such tenderness. You have the soul to be a good man, and my God has cleansed your spirit and flesh of all wickedness. There is no longer any excuse for evil deeds. Do you, man born from woman, have the heart to remain cleansed before the God of all things?” She shrugged. “Your future is yours to choose. You are not destined for good or ill. But this hour is your master. Your duty is upon you. It begs no parley.” At that, Ishtar became silent, speaking no other words in the governor’s ears.

Claudesius groaned in sadness, addressing Ishtar. “Should the choice be mine, I would trade places and put myself upon the judgment seat. I am a man ridden with evil guilt - a murdering, vile man, fit for nothing, traitor to my own sworn oath of rulership.

Who is there like you, guileless and holy, majestic and sublime in power and glory? May your God have mercy on us…the many, the wicked, the callous and cruel. It is I who was born blind and dumb and still remain as such. May your God forgive me…may you forgive me this terrible day I have heaped upon you. A goddess you are to me, but…

but…” A tear rolled down Claudesius’ cheek as he lowered his head, choking out his final words. “You have given me no choice, no alternative, no way out. You…you…

your God has blocked my path.”

* * *

It was a hurried affair for Claudesius after returning to his viewing stand. Officials were coming and going, constantly seeking instructions and updating the governor on the situation. Ogust and Jusslin were absent. No one seemed to know where the mischief-makers might be, and Claudesius didn’t bother to search beyond sending an attendant to do a quick look-see. Anyhow, the air smelled better with those two creatures gone, whatever shenanigans they might be up to.

People were running to the governor for the slightest little thing, making it hard for him to concentrate. They requested his direction on the most trivial of matters. After sending one worried and confused officer away, telling him to figure it out himself, he fumed silently, ‘Why do they trouble me with such childish matters?!’

His bewilderment turned to thoughtful recognition, and then to shameful sadness.

So, this was the great governor of Ephesus, the man most feared and admired! Well, feared, that was for sure. His subjects, officials, officers, everyone knowing him feared him, but not because he was a man deserving of great honor. No! Each man and woman feared for his or her life because he, on the slightest pretense, was willing to cast persons off to the lions as if they were just worthless pieces of rat meat to feed his pets.

Claudesius’ belly began to ache, a growing agony consuming his heart. Oh, what an evil man he was! For the first time in his life he wished his birth had never been, he being a man so wretched and cruel.

Well now Claudesius remembered Decanter’s words, taught to him at the base of Vesuvius, his mentor holding forth a mirror to his students. ‘Take ye the mirror of truth and look upon its accusations. Will ye become the honest man who seeks its reflection, or will you hide in hideousness because of your betrayal of all good, living things? All men must face the mirror of judgment before they the gods will entertain in triumph or anguish. Your oath of fealty to all living flesh that ye take this day before me shall a mirror of judgment be for you against which the gods weigh your soul for all eternity.’

Clenching his fists, Claudesius cursed himself for his betrayal of all good things. His motives in youth were so honorable and pure, yet he allowed the desires for power, wealth, and glory to corrupt any good within him. And now, for the first time in so many sordid lifetimes, when he finally wanted to do the right thing no matter the cost to him, the very God of gods barred his path, forcing him to commit the greatest of all travesties, to murder the most noble and purest of all living flesh while he, the vilest of deformities of mankind, must pretend to be righteous in judgement. Oh, how he hated himself.

And Cephas? His trial had been heralded throughout the entire district. Councils and magistrates were collected here from every major city within twenty leagues of Ephesus. “I will dismiss them!” he cried out to the air. “The destruction here is grand enough to warrant this judgment be delayed for another day!”

No sooner were the words spoken than Claudesius recalled Ishtar’s deliberate destruction of the emperor’s statue. He cursed aloud again. The entire city was in an uproar. How could the girl escape the people’s righteous indignation? Staring into the sky, he called out in anguish, “Why have you brought me to this?! Unfit to live I am, and yet when I seek for once in my life to do right, you condemn me to this evil! Do you hate me so as to allow me life, forcing me to murder the only good thing existing in this damnable world, when all I wish is death! And yet death is too good for this miscreant...”

Turning his face to the empty seats where Ogust and Jusslin had been, Claudesius closed his eyes, forcing a tortured smile. “At least I have sent her away a free woman.”

Recalling his commands, he nodded in satisfaction. ‘Don’t allow this woman to be bound or fettered. She will not run. Should anyone attempt a coup regarding my orders, run the bastard through!’

Treston had smiled, grasping the hilt of his sword. ‘I shall not have to strike twice!’

He bowed. ‘My Lord…’

Claudesius gripped his arm, shaking his head. ‘Do not call me that again, at least not when we are alone. You…you are my friend. My friend, take care of our child. I am trusting you.’

Shortly after Treston departed, another officer hurried in to see the governor, his uniform disheveled and bloodied, grievously announcing, “My Lord! My Lord!” The man bowed low at the waist, lifting his right hand to his head in reverential salute. “I beg your mercy, my Lord, but the executioner dogs all perished, all save one. I am so sorry, my Lord.”

“What?!” Claudesius exclaimed, his lips curling into a smile. Quickly checking his jubilance, he asked somberly, “You say dead?”

An obviously nervous officer confirmed, “Yes, my Lord. There was nothing my men or I could do. By the time we subdued the riot of men and beasts, there was but the animal that brings death to the felon. All the others were scattered, torn asunder upon the field.”

Oh, what a day! Claudesius’ spirits soared. Maybe this god of Ishtar’s was not going to destroy the child today. He would find a way to have her make escape somehow.

No sooner had those thoughts entered his mind than another officer newly arrived, overhearing the conversation, quickly offered a solution. “Your Excellency, there was delivered here just a little time ago, so that their wagoned cage remains outside these walls, wild dogs from the Northlands. Hungry they are and wolf-like. Though not trained in the arts of fair execution, they will at least satisfy the judgment of the vengeful crowd.”

Claudesius faked a smile. Then patting the shoulders of the two officers and thanking them for jobs well done, ordered them to prepare the dogs. After this, he turned to the first officer and asked, “You say the executioner dog remains alive?”

The officer answered affirmatively, “Yes, my Lord, alive and unhurt.”

Taking hold of the officer’s arm, Claudesius ordered and then warned, “You are to personally bring that beast, leashed, onto the field, keeping an ever watchful eye out for my signal. Should you fail that g…me, it will be better for you to cast your living carcass to the lions, for they will be kinder to you than I!”

“Y.. y.. y.. yes, my Lord!” the officer stuttered, staring into a grim, determined, face.

“I will do as you say! The beast will be kept safe at all cost, and I…I will be vigilant, awaiting your signal.” He saluted and hurried away.

Stepping to the balcony wall, Claudesius peered out across the arena, studying the crowd milling about. He sadly shook his head. What a proud race and nation they once were, masters of the sciences, the arts, construction and so, so much more. How had they managed in such a short time to degenerate into this living slime of human filth? Here they were - he being the most culpable and vile - murdering one’s neighbors, citizens, and fellow man, just so their hearts could race with momentary excitement. And then!

And then, when an innocent people comes along professing loyalty to another god, one that says to love your fellow and do good for him, he and his world stand up and accuse them of the greatest of evils and blasphemies.

Then, in all their righteous indignation, they bring these same innocent people to the very blood houses where they practice unspeakable orgies against all living flesh and condemn those innocents to torture and death in the name of justice and honor. How could they not see the obscenity in such reasoning?! How could the ruin of the soul of another divine being – for the gods themselves taught that mankind was brought forth in a divine way – escape the wrath of the gods, their fathers? Would the worlds of future men ever absolve this wicked generation of its wanton guilt?!

Claudesius lowered his head in shame and anguish, turning away from the bloodied field. He needed more time…time to think and ponder…time to beg forgiveness, a new and strange desire recently come over him…time to consider too many things. Finding a secluded seat in the shadows, he sat and drew his fingers through thinning hair. Did it matter anymore? Did it really matter if life or death awaited him? His soul was already damned. He had done it to himself. The face of every man, woman and maiden ever

raped, abused, beaten or murdered by him flashed before closed eyes, condemning him, they all standing beyond the River Styx, impatiently awaiting his arrival, the boatman with an outreached, bony hand, seeking his fare.

A servant pressed him, asking if his lord was feeling ill and should he have a doctor summoned. Claudesius, shocked at hearing his own words, thanked the servant for his concern, but declined the offer, asking the man to see he was left alone. It was not fun being governor this day, nor would it ever be again for Claudesius. The pleasure of having unchecked power over his fellow man was now turned sour, bitter upon his stomach. He would willingly surrender his entire kingdom for this one day to pass away into mindless dreams and for him to awake, it having only been a ghastly nightmare.

This, though, was no dream, just a dreadful, loathsome reality screaming out its own brand of justice against a much deserving soul.

It was late in the afternoon when the city stadium was finally readied for judicial matters. Claudesius felt ill, telling his court officers to cancel all other legal cases for the day. Only the trial of Symeon was to continue as scheduled.

Claudesius had taken occasion during preparations to get up and observe the progress of workers repairing the arena. Hurried crews had reinforced the damaged commons wall, roping off the section around the point of collapse. Then, burning lamps of perfumed oil were generously distributed along the wall surrounding the field, sending out the sweet smell of juniper and pine to cover the growing stench of blood and gore.

This, added to the wagonloads of lime spread about, made the heat of the late day sun more tolerable on the nostrils of the thousands who were now crowding every nook and cranny of the stadium.

The time had come. The governor again walked to the balcony. A wild roar of approval rose from the thousands of anxious witnesses, the majority crying out for the death of the heretics. He waved his hand. The hastily replaced gates at the far end of the arena opened as horns, pipes, and cymbals began marshaling music. Then, slowly and steadily, a dozen soldiers dressed in armor and bright red uniforms calling out cadence pushed a huge, four-wheeled wooden platform onto the field.

As the platform moved ever closer to its station near the governor’s balcony, two-dozen archers entered through the small double doors directly below it. Claudesius was much relieved to see that these men were from Treston’s guard. How his lieutenant had managed to pull off such a coup, he did not know, but it was a great relief to see it so. He knew that his friend would protect the girl from the riotous mob.

With a shouted command, the officer over the troop delivering the platform ordered a halt. The men gathered in a line facing the governor, the commander standing in front.

All smartly saluted, remaining at attention while other royal soldiers paraded twenty or so shackled men across the field. The crowd went wild, shouting insults while throwing small objects at the bedraggled men, hitting some. One old man fell to the blow of a chunk of broken masonry, a soldier yanking him to his feet and pushing the bleeding fellow forward. At length, the prisoners were driven up to the north arena wall and forced to stand, facing the platform.

Sickness grew again in Claudesius’ belly. These were honest, hard-working men who lived in the city. He recognized a few, having seen them labor on the docks or

selling stuffs in the marketplace. Their only crime committed? Openly confessing their belief in one supreme God.

Looking away, the governor studied the crowds of his noble countrymen. He muttered under his breath, “Sewer rats the lot…would stick you in the back as to look at you. And I’m no better than the worst of them. Here we ruin the good to gather the filth.

We drink down the vomit while throwing out the good wine.” He sadly shook his head, knowing it was by his very hand these atrocities had been heaped upon these innocents.

And for what? To make sport of a nuisance people and obtain a pleasing name for himself before one of Caesar’s magistrates?

Claudesius nodded toward the soldiers, sending them to their stations on and around the platform. He glanced behind, into the shadows. The viewing stand was filled to overflowing with dignitaries and wealthy guests, but still no sign of Ogust or Jusslin.

‘Oh well, the better for it. Maybe they will gift me with a burning for starting without them. Then on with it...’

Turning to the crowds, Claudesius raised his arms in ceremony, beginning the late day’s events. He lifted his voice in praise to the gods, the caesars, all the brave men who had come before them, and to generations that would carry the glory of the empire into the unknown future. Oh, how he wanted to puke on his own smooth speech, but no, he could not, for in his mind he was developing a plan. Yes, the girl would die. Her god had checked his hand. But what of the others? In his mind, Claudesius called out to a strange and unknown deity, ‘Just this once, give this fool words to tingle the ears. Just this once…’ Signaling to his heralds, the governor began the speech of his life.

“Brothers! My brothers! Our nation…our nation was built on a set of divine laws of greater value than all the riches of all nations. These laws and principles they embody have made us the greatest kingdom the world has ever known! These very laws have unified people of every tongue, every culture and every ideology, welding them into the largest, strongest, family ever known to mankind. The length, breadth and majesty of this land which we call ‘home’ is beyond measure. May it last forever!”

The crowd went wild with shouts and applause. Eventually, they quieted. Now to bend the road...

Claudesius raised a fist. “The reason for our success? The reason why we have succeeded where the other great powers of Greece, Babylon, and Egypt all miserably failed is because of the honest and just rule of law that is fairly imparted to all free men.

In our nation, all men are offered freedom to think, believe, and act in accordance with the will of the gods! And what do the gods, themselves, prove to us? That freedom subjects all living men to protect and consider the rights of our fellow man. Is there a man among us who disputes those evident truths?!”

The people were silent.

Claudesius shouted, “That being the case then, we, the children of this glorious house, must continue to display this outstanding allegiance to the laws that bind our house together!” then raising a fist, proclaimed, “Our kingdom forever! ”

The people roared their approval, many standing and, with raised fists, repeating with enthusiasm, “Our kingdom forever! ”

The governor smiled. Fools! Empty-headed fools!

“We do not judge a man because of his race, home of birth, or even an ideology.

Have we not seen the fool before? Yet we have seen tolerance from our greatest of lords.

How often has our emperor proved his wisdom by allowing release to the man, though being a fool or stupid in thought, because our great lord understands that ignorant stupidity is not justification in itself to call down judgment upon such a man? No! Not all children of the gods have been gifted with common sense, yet, are they not also children of the gods? Yes! Do we dare accuse the gods of incompetence because they make stupid men?

“My fellow children of those very same makers of worlds, we have been given a sacred trust handed to us by those very powers, to care for their creation. Because we have held sacred that trust placed upon us, we have been blessed by those very divine beings. Tell me, does there exist a more just and fair nation than what the gods have given to you and me?”

Shouts and applause echoed throughout the coliseum.

“We are not the kind of people who will abandon our sacred laws to satisfy any inner selfish desires or perceived offenses. Law! Law! Better is it for the entire world of living things to pass away than for one letter of our holy laws to be abused through greed, hatred, or fear! Are we not the stewards of divine knowledge, given to us through the oracles and priests who serve the gods looking down on us from hidden worlds?!”

Nodding heads shouted agreement.

Raising his hand and pointing skyward, Claudesius exclaimed, “Our fathers levied upon us a great responsibility, warning us so that our nation should last forever! They placed upon us the obligation to be wise and listen, to perceive the motive behind the action, to suffer the fool, to stand mature in a world filled with childishness. We have been placed under obligation to make the punishment fit the crime. And do our laws not also command us to withhold the whip from an innocent son whose father is a thief?

“Yes! Yes! Should a man be declared guilty, we must still treat that evildoer’s family, if innocent, with the utmost respect offered to any man! Do you...do you...do you still stand beside your governor in crying out to the heavens that we…yes we, the children of the gods, now and forever, will live by those divine standards?!”

The crowds were on their feet, wildly shouting and gesticulating, some people throwing kisses while others tossed flower petals toward the governor.

Claudesius smiled and, with a sweeping gesture, bowed to his loyal listeners, all the while feeling a desire to puke. How sour the taste of his words! How phony! It was so clear now. In his mind he could see his world racing headlong into oblivion. The future of the empire was as certain as if it had already happened.

As he stood, a vision suddenly flashed before the governor’s eyes. In an instant of time, the man saw his world…no, all the worlds of all living flesh consumed by cosmic fire, beginning in Rome and hungrily reaching out until the entire universe was a roaring inferno. Then, to his surprise, he watched a man, a boy from a strange world, yet a child of his own decadent land, rise up from the flames and wrest power from a giant serpent-beast that stood above all the earth. And the boy defiantly cried out, “Law! I will take the law and bring down all mankind! My law! The Law of the living God! It is alive and exerts power even now!”

At that, the vision passed. Shaken, Claudesius bowed again to regain his composure.

He then allowed the crowd time to calm down, all the while pondering his own people.

‘So, this is the value of speeches with self-righteous bigots. Boost their egos for but the moment and they will follow you beyond the River of the Damned. Declare the evil

righteous and these miscreants will bow before them in worship. Speak ill of the innocent and the mobs will stone them to death. Well, today I put the carrot on the stick and shall twist the trail. For once, I shall declare good to the good and burn this night for such honesty.’ Raising his arms, the governor called out, “It has been reported there exists among us some certain men of question who preach there is but one true God. Can you believe that?”

Laughter and mocking arose from many listeners.

“What foolish and ignorant little children they must be!”

Laughter erupted again.

“For men like us, we find it queer and baffling to think anyone could possibly believe such prattle. Only a daylight drunkard or one born without a mind or, possibly, one who has stood too long in the midday sun could find any logic in such folly! Are we so weak of mind that we also must fear that village idiot? Do we not laugh at such silly speech like one does the antics of a little child? What is the harm they have done to our great nation, to us, to our beautiful laws, my brothers?”

The people roared their adulation.

‘Gets them every time…a little pat on the head and the tail wags the dog.’

Claudesius smiled in disdain. “My brothers, who among us would beat the child for saying foolish things? Then should we, the people who know for a fact that the gods bless our world, should we not be willing to suffer the childish antics of other foolish little children? Who do they hurt but themselves? If then, they do not harm those of us with knowledge or the law or our eternal emperor, why can we not suffer their silly speech? After all, is it not a fine thing to have the jester to laugh at while we tarry at our daily chores? My brothers, would we not lower the beautiful standards of our divine laws if we should declare it a criminal act for being stupid?

“So then,” the governor raised his right hand, sweeping it outward toward the crowds, “we have gathered in this judicial seat of honor this day those who are perceived as wise, and…” he lifted his left hand, pointing out toward the shackled men standing by the north wall, “we have gathered here also those who are perceived as stupid.”

Then searching the faces of the many, he cried, “Our beautiful laws do not allow us the denigration of them to the judging of stupid people, for the gods themselves have destined them to live on this planet so as to be a test for mature men… to test our wisdom and tolerance, so that we may attain the stars, riding upon the great fire ships as they burn across the skies protecting the innocent and the stupid!”

Now there was a certain Marcus Lucas of Hammond-Tun, a city some leagues north of Ephesus, who stood shackled by the north wall. He cocked an ear and lifted an eyebrow at hearing the judicial speech being presented. He bore the marks of many beatings delivered by this same governor. Something was queer about the man’s words.

Although unlettered, Marcus could tell something was up. He closed his eyes, listening intently to the unfolding apologies, his heart racing in anticipation.

“So then, my brothers,” Claudesius’ voice filled with passion, “we must separate the stupid person from the true criminal. That is what we must decide here this day! Are these same believers in one god and one savior merely stupid or are they seditionists, acting against our laws and great nation, as some of you have heard rumored? Let us put all rumor aside and judge in truth and knowledge!”

He paused for response. The crowd was silent but, looking into their faces, he saw them pondering, thinking. Never before had he reached this deep into men’s hearts.

They were thinking! He had never before seen anyone quietly thinking within these walls. Oh yes, silently contemplating their coming fate, that was all too common, but to ponder the fate of another? ‘Well…’ he sighed. Was there a possible future for him and his people? A spark of hope began to burn in his breast.

“We will satisfy law and justice on this eve. If there is treason afoot, we shall weed such evil out, but we will not destroy the whole because one fellow of theirs has chosen to take it upon himself to attempt a ruin of our house. Justice! I say justice will prevail today… and for every day our grand kingdom exists!”

The people went wild, their hearts welling up with patriotic pride. Here was their leader! Had not the emperor chosen well when this man was appointed governor over their territories? Justice! Yes, justice would be served. And Governor Claudesius had invited all those present to share in the glory of that decision-making.

Claudesius’ voice fell into solemn prose. “In order to find the truth behind these rumors, I have summoned a great leader over these people to stand in front of this judicial seat and testify before all men and gods the truth of all matters. It will not be an easy test for reasons you, yourselves, shall soon see. This court will find the truth and then, by law, decide the fate of the guilty and innocent!”

With that, the governor motioned an attendant. In short order, a door opened beneath the viewing stand. An aged man shackled at his wrists and feet shuffled into the arena, blinking away the blindness caused by the sudden brightness of day. Surrounding him were smartly dressed prison guards, two of which carried several months’ wages worth of newly received silver and gold coins. Following behind them was a middle-aged woman, unshackled, and with but one guard. Distraught she was, dressed in faded merchant wealth, but now with callused working hands and wrinkled brow. She was anxiously wringing her hands while staring at the ground, letting out an occasional sob as tears fell from reddened eyes.

While the tiny procession made its way across the arena and up onto the platform, Claudesius busied himself on some unimportant matters with a local magistrate, fearing that he, too, would burst into tears should he stare down upon the scene.

The soldiers lifted the aged man’s hands, dropping the shackles’ chain over a secured hook fastened to an upright pole protruding from the platform’s planked floor. The woman, still quietly sobbing, was standing beside the man, a guard’s spear keeping her in check. All was ready.

Claudesius excused himself, directing his attention toward the man on the platform.

His throat constricted, forcing his mind to think about duty. Duty? The duty now was to save this man from the fate he, himself, had heaped upon him, and at what cost? It was too much to think about. He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts.

“Symeon!” He paused, forcing the nervous anxiety from his voice. “Symeon, today I put you under oath before all men and gods, to speak truth and honesty in this sacred court. Do you swear, before the glory of our emperor, our people, this nation…before your very own God to speak honestly and truthfully at whatever the cost to the worlds above and below?”

Symeon lifted his head until his eyes met Claudesius’. “Your Excellency, there is but one truth. An honest man need not swear an oath, for God does judge that man for

good or bad by what proceeds from his mouth. But for you, to satisfy the needs of this court, I swear an oath of fealty to truth and justice to God and men that what I speak will be honest and accurate. It is an honor to have you judging all matters, for your wisdom is renowned among this people.”

Claudesius was taken aback, marveling at the oratory of this unlettered man.

‘Should he be permitted, he could convert the world of men to believe that rocks can fly.

Pity us all, for our world shall fall to the wiles of these people if this man goes free. But that is what I must do.’ “Tell us then, Cephas of Capernaum, what do you request from your God concerning our great nation?”

Symeon bowed his head in respect before answering. “There exists among us a man, prophet to all the nations, who is by far the greatest and most honored among my people.

This man, Paul, speaks to us with the authority of the gods. His words are clear and well-defined. With prayers, we are to offer thanks concerning kings and all those who are in high station in order that we may go on living a calm and quiet life. This command, I and all my brothers hold dear to, as often has been proved to all mankind.”

“Tell us!” Claudesius demanded, “Tell us, then, what of the person claiming loyalty to your God who willfully disregards our laws and customs, acting in defiance of our gods and our greatest of all rulers?”

Symeon winced as an ache raced through his head. He knew that in some way his words would affect this day’s outcome concerning another person, believing it to be Ishtar. “So be it!” he muttered under his breath. “My Lord, it is not our place to stand in opposition to your gods or rulers. We are a peaceful people. Doing an act of aggression in word or action, or supporting a person who carries out such folly would be an act of treason and rebellion against the very God who placed all governments upon this earth to serve in a way that pleases him. For it is spoken of by Paul, ‘Let every soul be in subjection to the superior authorities, for there is no authority except by the will of God!’

We do not condone rebellion in any form!”

A sickness was again growing in Claudesius’ belly. He was tightening the noose upon the one creature he would rather die for than continue living. Yet every word, every question, every gesture, was forcing the Fates to bring about that creature’s demise. He could not win. Swallowing down bile, he asked, “What then, Cephas - known to others as 'Symeon, the prophet and seer' - you, one of the twelve pillars of your faith, what is an acceptable punishment for someone who wantonly defies the gods and our nation that, you say, your people pray for?”

How well Symeon knew the weight resting upon his shoulders. The lives and future of his people hinged upon the outcome of this trial. Should he falter, all might be lost.

Silently, he cried out to his God to give him wisdom. There was a sudden rush of refreshing breath that filled his heart, easing the growing anxiousness. ‘Be calm and speak,’ a voice whispered in his mind.

Symeon sighed relief, believing the day was not his to fight alone. With respectful boldness, he answered, “My Lord, it has not been granted to common men like myself to pass judgment upon the wicked or the righteous. We trust to our God to set all matters right. It is he who has given to men like yourself the wisdom to lead our world along history’s road, choosing the destiny of the men in your charge. For it has been taught to us by our leaders that you are God’s minister, an avenger of blood against the wicked and an angel of mercy to the innocent.

“My Lord, I do not choose life or death for any man. My hands do not hold the tiller nor do they unfurl the sails. The river is not mine to set course upon, nor is journey’s end mine to choose. You…you, the great magistrate, must choose the fate of all mankind on this earth… and God will choose it beyond.”

Clenching his fist in frustration, Claudesius silently cursed Symeon’s reply. ‘Damn him! Damn him! He binds me with fated chains that I cannot escape. He condemns me to damnation, forcing me to murder the most innocent of beings! A goddess I must destroy to buy his release! Yet, what other choice? For I see his God has bound me to this road. Damn him! Damn him! So now it is come. Upon Symeon will arrive a release through declared innocence, me forcing the man to do so. By so doing, I heap the fiery coals of Hell upon my head, for shall I destroy one of the gods.’

Swallowing hard, he asked, shouting out to the ears of his people, “Then tell me, Cephas, lord over this illegal sect, will you hold this nation guilty if it brings to justice one of your own who has practiced such wantonness? Will you permit your God to hold this people responsible for exercising justice against a willful rebel who disregards even your laws?”

Symeon’s heart ached, knowing the sentence being passed. “I am but a man. I cannot speak for God, nor can I excuse the teachings of all men. But, in truth, I can say this. Never have I spoken sedition of any sort, nor have my ears heard one word echoed from the leaders of my people. I do not, cannot support any vile act of rebellion against this nation or its leaders. We have preached, publicly and privately, that all men must remain in subjection to their king and nation and, if at all possible, remain loyal to all the laws, standards, and customs of this land. We will not tolerate a felon!”

Claudesius’ reply was instant and cruel, theatrics so practiced that it was now second nature and he hated himself so much for it. He extended an accusing hand. “What of your own flesh?! Will you be so bold in your patriotic defense if the person you condemn is of your own blood? Tell me, you the great Cephas, if it’s your blood, will you still hold true to your words?!”

The woman standing near Symeon howled in agony, “Not her! My Lord, not my child! Forgive her foolishness! It is not her fault, but the prattle of this fool that has filled her head with stupid ideas!” Pointing at Symeon, she screamed, “It is the evil of this man that has corrupted my child, he and his stupid religion! Make him stand in her stead for he rides the winds of evil against her! Make him pay for twisting the mind of an innocent babe!”

Symeon lowered his gaze, refusing to look at his sister. He asked the governor,

“Please, my Lord, what is the charge levied against the child? For I do not know of any foul deed done by the maiden…that is, if the child you speak of is my niece, Ishtar.”

“That is the child of whom I speak!” answered Claudesius, leaning forward, glaring into Symeon’s face, reminding himself, ‘Put on the act, you fool! The people must not learn what you are really doing.’ He then declared Ishtar’s insubordination. “She is accused of treasonous acts against the gods and men! Against our very emperor, she has committed a seditious act!”

“What?!” Symeon blurted out, surprised.

“Yes!” Claudesius shook his fist. “She is accused by many eye witnesses of performing the greatest of atrocities against our lord-king, by willfully smashing, with vile curses, his god-statue and altar upon which it was stationed!”

Symeon could not believe his ears. “There must be a mistake, my Lord. This girl is most law-abiding, never speaking one word against you or this great nation. She is a loyal child. There must be some mistake!”

“Mistake?!” Claudesius sneered. “Even I am witness to this travesty!” He then shrugged, putting on a pious face. “But do not believe me. Let the perpetrator of such heinous crimes speak in her own defense.”

At that, he motioned to his attendant. In only moments, the door beneath the viewing stand again opened. Treston, along with four of his most loyal guards, ushered Ishtar onto the field.

A hush fell across the stadium, followed by an audible gasp. The people were dumbstruck at seeing this perfect creature of beauty. Many clasped their chest while others looked away in order to catch their breath as there came the occasional cry, “Let her live! She is a goddess! Let the goddess live!”

Claudesius smiled. Maybe he had won. Maybe this was but a test given him by Ishtar’s strange God. At that instant, his hopeful visions were shattered. Someone in the nearby crowd heaved a jagged stone, striking Ishtar across the cheek, the man screaming,

“Traitor! Villain!” No sooner were his words exhausted than the man fell backward into the crowd, an arrow piercing his heart.

Claudesius glanced first at the archer who was reloading his bow and then at Treston, who was also looking up at him. There would be no more foul deeds attempted against the girl today, other than the most atrocious, and that by his command. He nodded approval to Treston then shouted to the people, “This is a court of law! Justice will be served up swiftly against anyone failing to show the proper respect concerning it!

Another such outburst and I will burn the criminal, his house and household for acting so disrespectfully!”

There were still a few muted cries to release the girl, and a few of more vulgar comments. Claudesius ignored them and went on with business. Ishtar had been taken to within some twelve paces of the platform, well in range of speaking distance. She then was faced toward the viewing stand, about an equal distance away.

Motioning the guards to quiet Ishtar’s wailing mother, Claudesius leaned forward, peering into the girl’s serene face. Oh, how he hated himself. In a voice resolute, pretending offence, he declared, “The charge levied against you is serious and, if true, brings death to the perpetrator! You have been accused of displaying gross disrespect for our chief magistrate and emperor by destroying his effigy in wrath and anger. How do you plead to this charge?”

Ishtar stood defiant. “I brought to nothing what is mere rock and stone that was shaped in the form of a man! For that, I am willing to die! But let it be known, your leader is no god! I will not bend a knee to a man of flesh and bone!”

Ear-splitting shouts and cries went up from the people, some covering their ears and crying out to the gods, lest the world be smitten in their anger. “Throw her to the dogs!”

“Cut out its tongue and burn her with fire!” Had it not been for the fear of Treston’s archers, the coliseum would have exploded into uncontrolled rioting.

Hanna was standing less than four rods from where Ishtar stood, holding her head, mouth agape, not believing what she had heard. Never had any of her people spoken out against the leaders of their world. This was unthinkable! Had the child lost her mind, or had a demon possessed her body and was speaking through a bewitched mouth?

At length, the crowd was silenced.

Claudesius asked Ishtar, concerned, “Does this child speak her own words or have the teachings of your uncle warped your mind toward doing wicked things?”

Ishtar stared at Claudesius, smiling as she had when goading him earlier into killing her. It was a trap! She had set him up, using him to ask a question that would absolve Symeon while condemning her. And now she must answer him, he unable to retract his words.

Ishtar paused a moment, realizing the pain she was about to cause. Her uncle would not know, could not know that what she was about to say was for the preservation of his soul and the souls of all her brotherhood. She must become the evil one, an abomination among her own people if they hoped to survive this hour. There was nothing else for it and she was not afraid to bring it about. Looking up and into the governor’s face, she cried, “I am a free woman! No man owns my bed or leads me along as a slave. The prattle of my uncle is not my master! I do as I please and live as I wish. You have no say about me! The Tillerman take my soul and all the world be damned to Hell!”

The crowd went riotously mad, the guards being forced to restrain them.

When it was again quiet, Claudesius, his face feigning sadness and offence, asked Symeon, “Tell me, please. Be truthful, for you have given your oath. Do you support the actions of this woman? Does your religion permit such outrageous outbursts against not only our leaders but against the very station of womanhood in our land?”

Symeon looked down at Ishtar, confused and dismayed, her eyes searching his, pleading for him to understand, a thing he was unable to do. There was something he could denote about her, as if she were asking him not to hate her, but to be patient and wait before casting judgment upon the child.

Finally, in tears, he called out to the governor, “Please, my Lord! The child must be sick. A fever must be upon her, or a derangement in her mind caused by this excitement.

Allow, please, this once, give to me the sentence cast against such deeds done. Let me take responsibility for the girl. Give her to her mother so she may convalesce back to health. She is not acting as the child I know and love.”

Ishtar angrily shouted, “Do not listen to the words of a fool! This man seeks only succor from a woman who curses the day of his birth. He wishes only to pacify his own heart for his silly chatter!” She waved her fist. “Release me and I swear, as I live, I shall make a destruction of all your god-men, be they statues or flesh!”

She ranted on, being drowned out by the uproarious crowd. Seeing them nearly out of control, Treston hurried up behind her, wrapping his hand over the girl’s mouth, telling her to be silent. “That’s enough! Or do you really wish we all die here today? You can rest assured that your soul will not outlive this hour. That may be your wish, but I would like to keep my skin a while longer. I promised you no harm would come from those people, but it will be hard to do so if we are all rushed upon.”

Ishtar stuck out her tongue, smearing Treston’s hand with spittle. Reacting in surprise, he released his grip. Ishtar quickly answered, “Your skin is worth little to me, but my God has promised you life if you do his will today. I will not risk you or your men harm. There is nothing left to say. I promise to be silent.”

When the people were finally returned to order, Claudesius repeated his question.

Symeon said nothing for the longest time, each moment lasting an eternity. When the governor was beginning to think no answer was forthcoming, Symeon broke that silence.

There was no energy left in his voice when he began. Ancient and stoop-shouldered, he appeared a broken man. “Whether this child is guilty before her God, I do not know. He not I can judge the heart. We have clear bounds given in our teachings that forbid her actions, actions that I cannot defend. I do not know the child standing before you. She is not the girl I know and love. A fever may be on her brain. She is not herself. Please have mercy on her.”

“It is not your place to judge innocence or guilt!” Claudesius huffed, piously adding,

“As for mercy, how well you should know that it is so much part of our law!” Extending an accusing hand, he commanded, “I have put you under oath, Cephas, leader of this sect of Judaism, a sect you call ‘Christian’, one of the twelve pillars of this sect, tell me truthfully, do you support this woman in what she has done…yes or no?!”

Symeon lowered his head in grief, tears welling up in his eyes. ‘So it has come to this. I must cast the first stone. I must ruin my own flesh and blood.’ He then silently cried out to the Heavens for its mercy. Why must he carry the blood of his very own child? A quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered, ‘My son, you must go on living even should all flesh around you fall. Do this thing for me and live. I will not forget her, for the child is also my vessel.’ He looked at Ishtar, wishing to cry out to her, asking what folly was on her brain. The girl stared off toward the east as if in a dream, seeing something no other human could comprehend. She gave no heed to the moment, serene and calm, as if having already reached some future destiny.

Slowly, Symeon raised his eyes until his met Claudesius’. For but an instant, he witnessed the same grief coming from the governor’s eyes as were showing in his own.

Without hesitation, he answered, “No…”

Hanna’s hands broke into a tremble, dropping the basket at her feet. Covering her mouth to stop a growing need to scream, she hurried to the closest exit, down the many flights of steps and out onto the street, running away in frantic distress. Her feet did not slow until they came to a narrow alley between two buildings some distance from the arena. There she squirreled herself far away, hiding behind some broken crates, curling up into a little ball with her hood pulled down snuggly over her head. Finally, hidden from wondering eyes, she unleashed her sorrow in uncontrolled weeping and lament.

There the little creature remained until the late night chill drove sleep from her eyes.

Claudesius paused in momentary consultation with two other officers of the court.

When finished, he motioned for Treston to have Ishtar face him. He lifted his voice for all to hear the judicial decision of the court. “Ishtar, daughter of Guillhadden and Naomi, child of this city and subject of this nation, you have been found guilty of insurrection against our chief magistrate and emperor, your traitorous defiance being a rebellion of one, you the sole acting agent. By your own admission, you have declared your guilt while absolving your uncle and those who follow along in his teachings.”

Claudesius waved a hand, pointing a finger at Ishtar. “This crime cannot go unpunished! By your own volition, you have proffered to perform more and even greater heinous crimes, thus adding insult to already sordid actions. For past and threatened future acts of treason, you must suffer the penalty of death before the sun sets upon us this day!”

Ishtar looked down, a smile of satisfaction growing on her face. Claudesius felt sick, so sick that he sent an officer forward to read the details of the execution. Sitting down and resting his head in hand, he pondered the preceding hours. Only this morning the

man had envisioned a grand feast for his visiting dignitary and other invited guests.

Cephas would have been torn asunder by lions and his few surviving followers scattered to the winds, their tales of woe chilling the hearts of any listeners.

Then came into his life the most beautiful creature ever seen, and he stood upon the moment to ravish that creature to satisfy his personal, selfish indulgence. Now he sat, broken and confused, wishing Death take him this second. Better to face the fires of Hell or just be dead forever than to carry out this awful crime. He must drop his hand, signaling the release of the dogs. Oh, how he wished for a knife to cut off, eternally, that arm so he this misdeed could not accomplish.

Treston lingered, standing beside Ishtar as the distant doors opened and the caged wagon containing the dogs entered the arena. He waited until the wagon began its turn to face its hinged rear gate toward the accused. The other soldiers were long since scurried away, finding safe perches to watch from before Treston departed. At the last moment, he spoke up. “May your God have mercy on us for the foul deeds we are about to commit.” Then taking her arm, Treston pled, “My Lady Divine, please forgive this miscreant for all the insults and injury I have caused you. I do not deserve life because of the many evil deeds my hands have committed. If your God gives me a chance, I will try to compensate for those evils. I don’t know how, but I will.”

The teamsters were finished backing up the wagon, and the officer holding the executioner dog had climbed aboard the machine’s fender. Men, too, stood above the gate ready to pull the release pins. They looked to the viewing stand for the signal.

Treston began to leave, stopped, and leaned close, whispering in Ishtar’s ear, “It will be easier and less painful if you face the beasts like a warrior fending the battle line. Die as though a sword is held in your hand. Imagine it if you can. You can, because you are the greatest of warriors! You are a free woman!” He turned away, hiding tears as he hurried toward his soldiers who were holding open the nearby doors.

“My Lord, the time is arrived. The people await your orders.” Claudesius looked up wearily into the eyes of his trusted secretary, the man’s troubled expression showing concern for his master’s welfare. “My Lord, if my Excellency is ill, may I suggest he assign these duties to another of the city’s magistrates?”

Claudesius sighed, waving off the man’s recommendation. “No, Seulicious, I shall condemn no other man to Hell. The hour comes upon us all when the gods demand we accept our destiny. I must not pass off to another the hemlock I have brewed in my recklessness. The Kriggerman be damned to his darkened worlds, for no coward will he find when he reaches out for my worthless soul!”

Seulicious puzzled, seeking an answer to the governor’s black riddle. Claudesius raised a hand to have him be silent. “Another day, my friend, another day… Now come see the world burn. Please, beside me stand this day.” The two men slowly made their way to the rail of the viewing stand, Claudesius leaning upon Seulicious’ shoulder.

The crowd roared their bloodlust upon seeing their leader and judge. Clutching the rail with both hands, the governor leaned forward to study the people. ‘What filth, loathsome rotten filth, the whole lot! Better to burn this world with fire than to let the children of the future know the kind of scum that came before them!’

In his mind, Claudesius formed the words for the speech he most wanted to give.

‘What right do you have to live?! What have you done that is worth a breath?! The lion kills because it is hungry, the eagle to feed its young. You! Do you even deserve to be

elevated to the glory of those mindless beasts? Murderers! Murderers! Men without souls, how will you escape the gates of Hell?! Escape?! Even Hell does not want you, your bones not worth the lime to spread on a beggar’s field. Death to us all! It is more than we deserve!’

But had it not been by the very teachings of he and his kind that the ignorant and fools of his world gathered themselves to such putrid celebrations, being taught it a noble thing to see one’s fellow slaughtered for sport? No, the debauched lives of the people were merely a reflection of the sordid leadership that directed and educated them. They were as much the victims as the girl standing below.

He looked down, disgusted and ashamed, seeing the child awaiting death. How quiet, calm and dignified she appeared, a smile of satisfaction upon her face. Guilt! For the first time in his life, Claudesius was ridden with guilt…guilt for taking an innocent’s life…guilt for being the fomenter of this travesty…guilt for being alive. He deserved death. How many innocents had he murdered? Numbers were lost to him, faces blurred into the distant past. His cousin was the first…poisoned apple. It was tough…family, you know. After that it became easier until…until it mattered little who or why, just as long as it served his sordid purpose.

Now the man stood upon the parapet of time and space, seeking absolution for one last evil deed, a deed yet uncommitted, but still unstoppable. Fair speech could not undo what the Fates had conspired against him. Ishtar’s God was a trickster extraordinaire, playing to the worlds of men music of his own liking.

He had failed; his people had failed. They had forgotten the moral obligation of being divine sparks, beings made from the fires of the heart of a living, caring Creator.

So now the Maker of Worlds was going to teach them the folly of such foolishness.

Claudesius lifted his hand, the weight of mountains resisting his efforts. The men at the wagon tensed themselves, pulling fast the ropes that would remove the pins that would release death and judgment upon the nation’s offender. High he raised that hand, his stomach churning in convulsive knots. Oh, how he wished to close his eyes and turn away! But he remembered earlier events, how an innocent child was forced to witness torture and destruction. No, he would be a man about it, see the foul deed, watch the ruination of this most wonderful of divine creatures. He would suffer his punishment, murdering this child by his own hand, being witness to his act of wicked cowardice.

The crowd waited with bated breath. Was the governor changing his mind? So long he held his hand high, the people began to think he had become a statue. Then, suddenly, Claudesius’ arm fell, its strength as though ruined by the weight of the moment, it dropping to his side, limp and broken. His eyes would remain fixed upon the child, refusing to allow their master escape from the horrid manifestations pummeling them from the field below. But the sounds of the raging tempest he did not hear, for within the man’s mind, the passionate screams and accusative cries from all his murders rose to condemn him and his race, refusing to release him until long after the girl’s fate was come to a finish.

With a grunt, the men pulled heavy on the pins, releasing the counterweights holding the cage’s gate in place. Up it flew, slamming hard against the upper head beam, violently shaking the machine. Six one-hundred pound wild beasts bolted through the opening, charging the tiny creature standing less than ten paces away.

Ishtar leaned into the coming storm, standing like a soldier facing a fearsome onslaught, but it was all in futility. The first dog jumped toward her face, she fending it off with an arm as she tumbled backward into a heap. And then the other starving canines were upon her.

In that instant of mindless desperation, she stretched out a hand toward a prison guard standing near Symeon, crying out for help. The man’s cruel answer was covered by the hungry snarls of the ravenous dogs, but his laughter was not hidden from her eyes.

For but an instant, Ishtar watched, the scene frozen forever in her mind. Laughter erupted among the soldiers watching from the platform. Symeon stood silently, his head lowered in grief or shame, and her mother - her mother stunned as if in death.

Ishtar felt a violent tug at her arm and glanced up in time to see a large chunk of bloody meat being chomped down by a hungry mouth full of teeth. Then another violent tug and then another, each beast gulping down whole the first meal it had in days.

Through a cloudy mind, the girl recognized these beasts for what they really were, hapless victims starved and beaten until, as an act of survival, they fought each other for one more meal - one more moment satisfied from hunger. At least they had reason…no malice, hatred, or lust…just a need, an instinctive will to live. She laughed to herself, ‘Is it only the reasoning beast who surrenders the fight and wishes for death?’

The animals pulled Ishtar’s torn and bloodied body this way and that as the living flesh was ripped from her bones, each one fighting for its share of the evening meal. All this the child saw and heard, but there came no pain nor was there any fear…only peace, a rocking lullaby of peaceful music. A smile grew on pale lips.

She had won! Today was her victory! Damn all the worlds of men and gods, for they held no rule over her now! She cried out in her mind, for her voice had no power, ‘I am become the Darkness! Freedom is mine! No one shall ever take it from me!’

Naomi screamed in grief, cursing Symeon and his God for her daughter’s ruination.

Symeon stood silent, tears streaming down a haggard face. Claudesius stared down blankly, swallowing his own vomit. He was struggling to hold himself back from jumping from the balcony, wishing to be ripped apart in the feeding frenzy rather than to live another moment. And Treston? He watched through a peephole in the lower door, tensely waiting for the right moment.

With a painful yip, the executioner dog lunged forward, pulling its handler from the wagon and dragging him through the dirt until the heavy leash snapped, broken in two.

Driving hard into the pack, it slammed its way through the hungry animals until it stood over Ishtar, glaring into the woman’s placid face. It howled defiance to the crowd, then, with opened jaws, dove upon the girl’s neck, crushing bones and tearing muscle as it violently shook the now lifeless body.

“Drive ‘em away or kill ‘em!” Treston was diving through the opened door, his soldiers close behind. In only seconds it was over, Treston’s bloodied spear running through the last of the defiant beasts. He turned to look upon the handiwork of his demented world, stepping close to examine their damnable act. In growing anger, he stared up into the jeering faces of a threatening crowd disappointed with his uncalled for intrusion and the girl’s quick demise.

As tears streamed down his face, Treston raised a fist, preparing to scream out his curses against this obscene world of degenerate animals, when a sudden, eerie pall filled the sky, sweeping in a sickly, yellowish-red twilight. A stifling silence fell upon the

crowds as darkness pressed in upon them. Nothing stirred, the breeze having died with the gloom.

Standing in the dust, dumb struck, there came to Treston’s ears distant rumbling like a gathering storm. As this tumultuous agitation grew in power, he realized the noise was rising up from deep within the earth. In seconds, the entire coliseum was a’ tremble, the shaking so terrible, it became difficult to stand.

Walls cracked, pillars snapped, buckling, sending marble facades and balconies plunging into the crowded stone bleachers below. People screamed in panic, jumping from the parapets into the arena or clawing at one another to make their escape from certain death. Some men fell to their knees, beseeching their gods’ protection.

Reaching out a hand in desperation, Treston clutched onto the arm of a fellow guard, holding tight, remembering earlier day’s events. There soon gathered his entire troop, surrounding Ishtar’s lifeless body in hopes of gaining some protection from the wrath of the girl’s God.

A sudden explosion of lightning filled the sky with fiery bolts of crackling, deafening thunders. Fireballs of crimson, gold and blinding white tormented the hysterical crowds, men collapsing and fainting out of fear. Stones were shattered and wood splintered when these divine comets rained down upon the helpless people.

Above the roofline of the governor’s viewing stand were two life-sized statues, one of the emperor and the other of a goddess holding scales of justice in an upraised arm.

Treston watched, amazed, when several fiery bombs blasted away the viewing stand and statues, sending the pieces crashing into the arena.

Treston watched a defaced marble head bouncing across the field as there arose such a thundering tempest as to ruin the ears. Above the raging winds, a voice cried out of the thunder - at least some believed there was a voice in that thunder. Treston believed. “As broken stones shall all your gods become! So is raised a dragonslayer, Sister of the BloodWind! ”

Instantly, before the eyes of five astonished men, a white mist rose from the tortured remains of a holy child and, for but a moment, the mist collected itself into the girl’s form, her ghostly eyes turning a warning glance toward each of the spellbound soldiers.

Then poof! The mist vanished into nothingness. At that, the quaking maelstrom ended, the evening sun peacefully casting its fading light across a terrified and confused crowd staring out upon a ruined world.

What was even more amazing was the fact that when a search was made, it was discovered that no lives were lost. Indeed, if not for the physical destruction done to the coliseum, many would have believed what took place was but a vision from the gods.

A stunned silence hung over the arena, the dusty calm nearly as unnerving as the earlier thrashing of earth and sky. Coming quickly to his senses, Treston ordered his men to remove Ishtar’s remains, the men hurriedly dragging it past the rubble of the viewing stand and through the twisted door from which the party had entered the killing field.

Surveying the after-scene, Treston was disturbed to see that the ground had soaked up the girl’s blood in a most peculiar way, there being virtually no remaining trace of the gruesome contest entered upon only moments before.

As he, too, hurried to catch up with the others, Treston believed he could hear the very ground laughing, calling up to him, “Tomorrow! She is yet to best me on another day or her heart will be forever mine!”

Treston picked up his pace, hair standing up on the back of his neck. Enough!

Enough witchery for one day…for a lifetime! The man wished never to see the goblin again, but in his bones a weary dread grew, feeling the contest was not yet finished.

Claudesius and the others with him had been hurled back by the concussive blast that tore away the statue of the emperor, saving them from an untimely demise. When Treston reached what remained of the viewing stand, the governor was again staring down where Ishtar’s bloodied body had lain.

Sensing his captain’s presence, Claudesius looked over at him, his face grave and ashen. “My friend, your swift action this day will not be soon forgotten, but there are yet many deeds needing to be done before the sun can rest in peace. Will you honor me with those requests?”

Somewhat surprised at the governor’s politeness, Treston bowed. “My Lord...”

“Please prepare the child for burial. By your own hands, will you do this? I know you will be gentle with her. Do whatever it takes to rebuild her beauty, and order the parlor maids to do her up splendidly with painted lips and braided hair befitting a goddess. When finished, place the child upon the Stone of Artemis in the Great Temple sanctuary. Shroud her in the purple and gold tapestry of the palace.” He reached out a hand, clasping Treston’s arm. “And…and in the morning sunrise, bring her mother to the shrine to see her child taken to the gods.”

Treston bowed again. “It shall be done, my Lord, just as you have requested.”

“Good! Good!” Claudesius smiled weakly. “And on the ‘morrow, when the winds blow out toward the sea, take the girl to my northern estate near the mountains. Bury her in my family cemetery in its center and raise a mound up over her, and place a pillar inscribed upon it. This way all will know this woman was a goddess of flesh, spirit and soul.”

“It will be done just as you say, my Lord.” Treston stepped back to take his leave, Claudesius waving him to stay.

Turning his attention to Seulicious, the governor gave further orders. “I have not the heart to face the child’s mother, Naomi. Please stand in for this coward at the dawning tomorrow. Will you do this for me?”

Surprised, Seulicious stammered, “Y… ye… yes… my Lord! I will do this for you, my Excellency.”

“And” Claudesius raised his hand, “you are to seal with my signet ring that Naomi shall receive an officer’s stipend in remembrance of her husband’s patriotic duties offered to the king for the remainder of her natural life. Then…” his hands began to tremble as he extended a parchment, “then deliver this to the woman. It is a release from all taxes for as long as she may live. It is the least I can do for the murder of her holy child.”

“And…” he chanced a gaze back into the arena before continuing, “and you must speak not a word of this to anyone, but you must see me on the ‘morrow, if I still do live and I will arrange with you for all these monies to come from my personal treasure. Is it understood? You must tell no other soul of this!”

Seulicious stammered, “Y… y… yes… my Lord! Not a soul!” He chose not to even know the reason, himself. After bowing low and wishing the governor well, he hurried away on his assigned business.

Claudesius looked at a very confused Treston, nodding, “I ask not your silence in this regard for I do believe you truly do know my reasons, and I trust your loyalty in this matter because you are my friend.”

Treston confessed, “I do believe I know. My purse is not that fat, for I have not invested well these many years, but my heart wishes it could offer such a rich reward as you generously have. I am truly sorry about this day.”

“Wait here another moment,” Claudesius requested of Treston, motioning to an officer standing some distance away. Upon that man’s arrival, he ordered, “Take those in our custody, the men and women of this strange religion, and deliver each safely to one’s home. If a person is from another city, then escort that one there. I want you to give compensation for any damage done to property or possession as well as returning any confiscated item or fines levied against them. Have the surgeons examine any who may be suffering injury, tending to their needs. Give official parchments of release to each person - man and woman - saving them harmless from any accusation or crime against the people.”

Looking with sadness at Symeon, Claudesius added, “Give that man, Cephas, release, escorting him to a place of his choosing outside the district. Give him monies and proper attire for the journey. My captain here...” he pointed toward Treston, “will provide whatever assistance and direction you need. Report back to him when you have finished your duties.”

The officer saluted, asking no reason for his orders.

After the man departed, Claudesius asked, “Treston, my friend?”

Treston replied cautiously, he not yet comfortable being addressed as ‘friend’.

“Yes… yes, my Lord?”

Claudesius frowned, but said nothing concerning the matter. Looking across the ruined scene at the coliseum, he commented, “I don’t know if there is but one God or many, but never in the annals of our history has such a display of glory and power been demonstrated by any of our gods. Ishtar’s God is most powerful. Who can stand against a being able to spin sky and earth into doing his will? This God deserves a more studious investigation.”

Nodding in thought, he turned back to Treston. “But I will also tell you this, my friend… and please call me so, yourself...that is if the mood strikes you when we’re together in private. I would like that so much. My friend, I have learned the answer to one question. What other gods may exist have no power over us unless we offer it to them. We must open the doors of our minds and invite them into our souls.

“And I believe them for the most part to be cruel and evil, they playing out their own selfish fantasies through our flesh. We are no more than mouse-like toys for their idle amusement. They have no power at all unless we give it to them. My friend, we… you and me… must resist them with our whole mind, heart, and strength, or we will surely lose our destiny to them.”

Treston’s mind wandered, thinking about the coming festivities. Curious, he asked,

“What about tonight? This very day you promised the magistrate, Ogust, a great banquet.

My friend… er, I see and feel through your eyes and fully understand your sending innocent people away, but there are still the Kriggerman’s dues to be paid. We have not yet departed the torrid field. How shall the boy-tyrant be placated when he finds out his toys are gone a‘missing?”

Squinting an eye while staring into Treston’s with his other, Claudesius smartly answered, “Maybe this is the day we begin to investigate the real power of the gods.

Shall we forget so quickly the heroine who stood in our midst, defying all gods and men with curses and oaths? To follow her to journey’s end beyond the River would be a greater honor than to live another one hundred years.” Looking toward the marble floor, he shook his head. “I will put this God of Ishtar to the test, to see what fate awaits me this day. If I die,” he shrugged, “well, it is only what I deserve, have for so long. This holy child is not the first innocent I have murdered in heart and soul. I ask you not to choose my fate. Arrest me if need be to save yourself. It is the least I can do for someone who has stood my side these many years.”

Treston was about to object, saying he, too, would rather the boatman pay than play the disloyal prince, when Jusslin suddenly appeared on the stairs, his face so serious.

Hurrying forward and clasping Claudesius’ hand, he grinned sadly, “Ogust is sick, I think from too much wine!” Nodding reassuringly, he quickly added, “I know you cautioned him. Thank you. But he is a man of strong resolve, and when the mood is on him, he will do as he pleases. It was good wine, very good wine you delivered to us. It’s just that early mornings for him are so tough on his constitution, and he takes to the fermented flower to soothe himself far too soon in the day. He is in a fine mood, I must say, for being sick, you know. You have been such a courteous host, better than any of the others we have happened upon. And…oh, yes, yours was the best speech I have heard since leaving Rome. It…it made me homesick for the senate and the councils.”

Jusslin grinned, remembering, waving a finger, “I am so remiss in my purpose for searching you out, and I’m relieved to see you still well after this terrible storm. I regret to tell you that we must be disrespectful guests. We will not be remaining as lodgers this eve. The fish smell is reported to be far worse than this morning. Ogust would be forever sick should we stay there. One of your splendid officers, Qutanius, your retired city constable, has invited us to his humble castle across the river and far from its stink.

I’m afraid there will be no time for returning to this most gracious of cities, for when Ogust is feeling better, we must leave for Miletus on emperor’s business. We will be pushing the season even now, seeing we desire to arrive there before the winter rains.

Thank you again for your kind hospitality. We shall personally tell the senate about your loving generosity and patriotic fervor.” Jusslin turned to hurry away, calling over his shoulder, “We will send for our things on the ‘morrow. Sorry we will not be able to attend any festivities tonight. Do not wait for us!”

Dumbstruck, Claudesius and Treston stared silently at the fleeing figure, both too afraid to speak, fearing themselves only in a dream. The men’s minds raced with recollections of the day’s events and their implications. In one day…only hours…a woman-child had changed forever the way these two men would look at matters again.

Although she no longer walked their world, her spirit haunted their minds and hearts for the remainder of their lives.

Claudesius wondered, asking, “Has there ever been a person willing to sacrifice everything...family, friends, and even face death for love of God and man? Have you ever seen anyone willing to die for a faith, a belief? Should all those believe as this child has, that belief will shake the world to its knees. There is no force in the heavens above, on this earth, or in the worlds below that check such power. Love…love my friend, is an unstoppable force. Nothing can halt a cause or idea built upon love. It will one day bring

to a ruin everything contrived by heartless men and gods.” He turned again to the field of death. “My friend, today we have unleashed the whirlwind. It shall sweep our universe, changing forever the way men view each other. It is a force that is relentless and unstoppable. One can only hope to be caught up with it and carried along by it for, in its tempest, all the world shall be overrun by it!”

( Author’s note : Indeed, as fables and stories of this grew among the witnesses of Ishtar’s demise, the coliseum itself became a haunted place, filled with accounts of a beautiful witch walking the field on moon-bright nights. Yes, and even superstition arose concerning her. Many a gladiator would seek out the spot of her death, feeling no harm could come to the man standing over it, the child’s blood protecting them from death and giving that warrior the victory.

And of Ogust and Jusslin? Legend has it that on their return trip to Rome, on the anniversary of Ishtar’s death, a sudden tempest arose from the depths of the sea, hurtling their ship against the rocks off the Malta coast, sending all hands to the bottom. It is only legend, but it is said the emperor, himself, declared a holiday from work when news of the disaster reached his ears.)

* * *

Section Five

Silent Tombs

The crunch of last season’s grass sounded under his feet as the man walked through the flower-filled fields of early summer. It was the kind of grass that did not grow high, but would curl back on itself and stay close to the ground, keeping that shape long after it died back in the fall. In the spring, new shoots replaced the old, but, like the skeleton of an old beast, would remain long after its life had expired. It was wild grass, like the fields it grew in, fields filled with a careless scattering of plants and flowers. Here and there, small copse of shaking aspen still mourned the loss of last year’s greenery, forgetting to see the new, colorful growth spreading through the fields around them. To the man walking in this strangely enchanting place, it was peaceful and beautiful, yet sad and lonely. With his eyes set on a distant hillock and his mind pondering past events, his heart lost itself in a world of yester-dreams.

The little hill was over an hour’s walk from the western gate of the palace wall. It provided him time to think, time to consider his life and his destiny. He had come here every day since the fleet had departed for the prisoner exchange. His heart wondered if he would see Sirion safely come home again. Or would he have to journey here to pay his regards? The sky was clear and the sun towered high overhead. A light breeze filled his senses with the refreshing scents of summer flowers. As he walked, he stooped and picked a handful of the brightly colored ones.

Eventually, the man came to the base of the little hill. Climbing to the top, he arrived at a gate made of what looked like simple wrought iron, but it never needed

maintenance, or so he had been told. Passing under the arched leaves that folded in until they almost touched, he came to some stone benches, one on each side of the path. He stopped and, raising his eyes up, scanned the view.

Beyond this hill, the land gradually fell away, allowing a person to see for miles in any direction. At one time, a huge orchard of fruit trees covered the surrounding land, but after the wars of the Rebellion started, it gradually became a vast resting place for Lowenah’s children. Row upon row, for mile upon mile, as far as the eye could see, the little mounds reminded the man of the heavy price Lowenah and her children had paid in their attempt to rid this realm of its evil.

He stood in awed silence. It always overwhelmed him when he thought of why this beautiful people who had no reason to die so freely surrendered up their lives. To die for a cause, such as for money or power, he could easily understand. But to sacrifice it for people who didn’t appreciate or even care about what was being done for them, and to continue to stand the battle line for all these thousands of years? It was beyond his comprehension. He felt so unworthy to even be in their presence. His heart ached from thinking about his own past failings, knowing he deserved nothing and yet had received so much. Tears filled his eyes, streaming down his face.

The children called these fields the ‘Resting Place of Quiet Testimony’ or the ‘Silent Tombs’. Even those who never returned from battle received recognition here by having a marker. Every name of every loyal child who had perished in the Rebellion was here.

It was common to see large numbers of somber people quietly wandering along the many paths, but today it was strangely empty. Only a handful of others were here, some strolling among the graves, their minds deep in thought, others sitting or kneeling next to a grave where someone extra dear lay sleeping.

Several minutes passed before the man, with halting steps, moved toward one of the many stone paths radiating from the gate. First down one and then another he walked, pausing from time to time, reading a name on a marker. Occasionally he would stop and stare, reading and rereading the words written on some stone or plaque. Then he would take a flower and place it on the grave.

Chisamore…Sirion had said that he helped remove the bodies of Darla’s attackers.

He fell at Desiah, defending the fleet. It was an ancient battle fought shortly after Ishtar’s death.

Avdiel was one of Darla’s stretcher-bearers. His fighter disappeared while on patrol and never returned to the convoy. After many days passed without word, Lowenah came here and put up this memorial. Sirion often talked about his laughing green eyes and comforting smile.

Ehleenohr Kalahnit was with Mihai when they hurried into camp, diving behind some rocks while warning the others to get down. Sirion told of her fiery red hair and temper to match. Her leadership abilities were outstanding and did not go unnoticed. By the time of the Great War, she was already a high-ranking officer. Ehleenohr commanded one of the corps that was trapped at Memphis. Few survived. She was not among them.

Tzidohn also died at the second siege of Memphis. Sirion sang many love songs about him. She more often affectionately called him ‘big brother’ instead of his given name. Whenever they came to his memorial, her eyes would fill with tears and her hands would shake with little tremors. One time she said, ‘He was always so gentle and kind.’

Depais, the song maiden, assisted Sirion in supporting Darla while she and Gabrielle helped Ishtar. Later she joined with Darla’s company during the first siege of Memphis, and remained with it during the Two Hundred Years War. She died in a futile attempt to retake one of the cities in the Northern Rim. It was her frozen body that Darla refused to leave at the ruined fortress of Mordem.

The man walked along toward a newer section of the Silent Tombs. After the Great War, the slaughter dramatically decreased, but it did not end. If it wasn’t a senseless battle, it was some other kind of mischief drummed up by the enemy that would claim another victim. He wondered how many more would enter this place before the wars ended.

He walked on and on until, at the far northwest corner, he came to another trail. It went down a slope into a shallow ravine. A cheerful little brook cut through it, splashing and bubbling along, singing a happy tune, oblivious to the sadness that filled the cut through which it ran. Down there, just where the stream made a sharp bend to the right and dropped over a ledge into a rippling pool, was the man’s destination. The stream ran beside the trail until it turned and went over the falls. At that juncture, the trail abruptly stopped, ending at the foot of two earthen mounds.

When Sirion first brought the man to the tombs some years before, this was the spot she hurried to. The mound was recent, with small patches of earth still showing through the grass growing on it. She had come to the end of the trail and stopped, as though fearing to continue. For the longest time, Sirion remained motionless, her shoulders stooped, arms limp, with hands folded together. Finally she turned her face to him, stained from a river of tears that were still flowing, covering her cheeks. ‘Periste took the blow for me. I was supposed to take point on that patrol and she ordered me back, leading it herself. So I am here now, a little shadow of nothing, living a life that should have been hers.’

Sirion moved in close and sat down, reaching out and resting her hand on the soft mound. After several moments she began to sing a lament, a lyrical song describing some of the qualities Periste displayed. Her song, like all she sang, was a love song, describing the effect the person’s life had on her heart. She sat, legs crossed, eyes closed, her hand on the grave, rocking back and forth in time with the gentle rhythm of the melody. Periste’s song was always the most emotional, her loss reaching the deepest into Sirion’s soul. Then, when she had finished, she would take some blooms she had picked in the fields near the hillock, and gently place them near the stone marker.

The man stooped and put his remaining flowers near Periste’s marker. Slowly he stood up, his eyes once again filling with tears. In a soft, gentle voice that was breaking, he choked out some words, while gazing at the grass-covered mound. “I’m sorry she couldn’t visit today, but maybe she will come soon. I hope you don’t mind that these flowers came from my clumsy hands.”

Pausing for a moment in thought, he then continued, “There is no way I can repay you and all the others for the sacrifices you have made. Please, let my ‘thank you’

suffice for the moment. One day I may find the words or do the deeds that will show my gratitude to all of you…” The tightness in his throat cut off the rest of his speech. In silence, he remained standing, thinking about these wonderful people.

Ten went out to help Ishtar those many years ago. Of them, six now rested here…gone, but still remembered. Only four remained to tell of their valor, or possibly

only three. Was Sirion still alive? If so, would she survive to return, to again come to this place of remembrance, to sing her haunting songs of lament?

Finding power to speak again, he added, “Ishtar will be coming soon. You know she won, thanks to you and the others. But you have helped so many win, not just her. You helped a child keep her integrity, and that integrity has altered history. An innocent young woman proved more powerful than all the armies of all the nations that have ever marched to war. Her faith will bring a world to its knees, changing it forever. You helped a child become a woman, and that woman will soon be here to help bring a finish to this terrible struggle. You have done so much for us all.”

With that, the man started to sing a little lament of his own. He sang it to no one and to everyone. He sang it for those lost. But, most of all, it was to Sirion that his words went out.

“You walked through the mist and the smoke and the fire.

Into the face of destruction you strode.

Your hearts were once filled with such hope and desire, But you chose a most dangerous road.

You came from a world so happy, so free,

A world filled with joy and rest.

You charged into battle through missiles, through bombs, Determined to give it your best.

You fought in the fields, the hills and the glades, Your chariots raced through the sky.

In sorrow you witnessed, experienced and shared, Your hearts ached over those who did die.

Through planting and harvest, the four seasons round, Your swords, burnished blades you raised high.

And you moved ever forward ‘til you fell to the ground, In a war that makes generals cry.”

The song ended. He silently stood, eyes fixed on Periste’s marker. The shadow of early evening filled the draw before the man stirred.

Two more days and Ishtar would be here. How long he had waited, longing for and fearing this day. The world let her down. Could she ever forgive it? In her gravest hour, she was abandoned by the very ones she saved.

Would she ever forgive him for the part he played in her humiliation? Did anyone deserve to be forgiven? ‘We acted with incomplete knowledge. We were obeying orders.’ How shallow and empty such excuses sounded now. Yet those reasonings still echoed in his heart. Would he ever grow up to accept his personal responsibility for Ishtar’s demise?

With head still down, the man turned and retraced his steps from the little ravine.

Reaching the crest, he looked back at the setting sun. Tomorrow…what a blessing!

There was always a tomorrow, one more chance to make things right. The night would

wash away the past and a new day would give birth to the promise of a new start. If enough new days came and went, the child might be able to gain an understanding in her heart…maybe, just maybe. He could only hope and pray that she would one day forgive him and all the others who showed no appreciation for the goddess who walked among them.

Looking back to the east, he spied the gates on the hillock, now miles away.

Choosing a more direct path, he started toward them. As he walked, he began to whistle a little tune Sirion once taught him.

Somewhere, light years across space, a woman lying in a cold cell, shivering, beaten and bleeding, dreamed she heard someone singing a lilting little melody. It echoed in her mind and warmed her aching heart. She smiled to herself. A few more days…only a few more days... Then she could rest in the arms of those she loved.

* * *

End notes:

I hope you've enjoyed reading about the struggle of Lowenah and her children in the first book of "The Chronicles of Heaven's War".

Look for the continuing epic saga of "The Chronicles of Heaven's War" at Smashwords.com :

Book II: “Burning Phoenix”

Book III: “Blood Moon Rising”

Book IV: “Hell Above the Skies”

Book V: “Ghosts of Lagandow’

Book VI: “Cry of the Eagle Spirits”, vol. I, II and III

About the author...

It is a customary thing to offer a short soliloquy of rhapsodic prose regarding an author of words who has put pen to paper, writing down by a hand not self-made and from a brain not understood, a tale of suspense or intrigue that the reader finds titillating to his or her senses. Credit is then taken by the author for the seemingly random charges of chemical and electrical energy that make those thought processes possible and that have then been woven into a tapestry of verbal music that plays upon the hearts and minds of those who open their eyes to see into the world of the author's mind.

Ava is no such author. “Take the tools you have been given and share your works with the world of men.” This is a motto of one who writes from the heart, one wishing to share the emotion felt, to give the reader pause to see beyond the ordinary into a world that may or may not exist in reality, but most certainly does in the heart and soul of any and all who believe there exists something greater than the frail human body. To dream and help others dream of a world beyond their own, to share the life and love of those

who might possibly reside there, to help them see that they do not journey upon the secluded path alone... that is the goal of this author. ~Ava Dohn

2/2022