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

that Adam had practiced with Eve in the Garden on the day the woman was handed over to that man, thus making Mihai complete…perfect…in the sense that she now fully understood the makeup and emotions of a man, thus making her a priest to all mankind.

Here is where the promise given to Rahab in a dream became fulfilled. ‘The harlot will give a blessing to all mankind’.

“So it was, the following day, when Mary, the sister of Lazarus, oiled the head of her Messiah, she, for her part, was celebrating the marriage of flesh between her and the man she anointed. This one final act, the manly act of taking a woman and sharing in her love is what made Mihai perfect in all ways, her womanly and manly qualities fulfilled to the full measure. But it did more, and that is what is the greatest of all secrets .

“Shortly after the death of Mihai in the flesh of man, her younger brother, led by spirit, took Mary for a wife, he never knowing the reality of matters. In due course, she bore him a daughter, the woman naming her ‘ShiloShani’, meaning ‘bloodline to peace’ .

But truly, the daughter…as Mother will attest to…was not Jude’s but Mihai’s from her manly flesh, something she does not yet know down to this day. Mother was responsible for this, using the girl’s bloodline to mix with James’ in order to give Mihai legal right to being Firstborn.”

Zadar was completely taken aback, his head swirling with confusion and insight.

He exclaimed, “Do you say that one of us, my kind, has children of flesh?!”

Trisha looked surprised, she never contemplating that only her kind made children and…and that Lowenah’s children had any real desires to produce their own. “Why…

why yes, several are Mihai’s descendants, mostly women, because only from Mihai’s birthing mother did Lowenah take the genetics to make Mihai in the flesh. But what is most important is that Mother could now physically mix the blood of her most loved child with that of Shiloh’s ancestors, giving her an eternal gift and legal authority to take up the crown of the Firstborn.

“And…” Trisha poked Zadar’s arm with her finger, “and this very day Mihai declined that crown, so this evening she legally became king not as Firstborn, but king over a new and different people, another ‘tribe’, so to speak. That tribe is of my kind.”

She pointed toward herself. “There are many thousands like me, destined for immortality and incorruptibility. Some like me are already here, living in this world. Some still reside in the worlds below, and others yet rest in the Field of the Minds. One day we shall all be gathered together in the last hour to unleash our vengeance upon the Wicked Snake and bring to a finish all evil in a great, final war.

“By Mother handing over to Mihai the king’s Sword, she has given her daughter authority to rule over everything that will become Shiloh’s, at least as a great steward for him. Yet the common understanding is that Mihai is king over all things, Gabrielle, a most loved and trusted confederate, being the only one of Lowenah’s children knowing differently.”

Pausing, Trisha took a breath, sighing with satisfaction at having shared such a powerful secret, she hoping that Mother would understand. “You see, it is the coming great warrior, Shiloh, one yet to arrive here, who is the very person intended for the crown of Firstborn. Now that Mihai has rejected it, he stands next in line to possess it.

He is the one who will sit Mother’s throne, ‘Yehowahboam’…‘the man who sits in the seat of God’. This is he, the very heir to that throne, this Shiloh, whom I have been watching these many years.”

A puzzled look crossed Zadar’s face as he blurted out, “Wait a minute! You were at the palace this morning. You told me so, yourself, and Mihai…this I know…was at the palace later in the day, Darla and I returning her to her apartment afterward. So how is it that you know what she did regarding the crown?”

Trisha frowned, taking her fist and lightly tapping Zadar’s head with her knuckles.

“Block of wood! Are all your kind this dense or are you, alone, made of marble-teak? I arrived only minutes after you left the palace, I being summoned back there. That’s the reason your pursuit of the new game hen was futile, at least until the late day luncheon when you attempted to impress me with your manly…boyish charms. You are quite a charmer when you’re on the hunt.”

Puffing his chest out and huffing in his manly pride, Zadar responded, “Well! At least your day didn’t turn out a complete waste then.”

Fire erupted in Trisha’s eyes, they boring into Zadar’s as she leaned away. Zadar could not tell his fate, watching her double up a fist while preparing to strike him a blow.

With a soft punch to his midriff, Trisha let out a laugh, a real, deep laugh, an act that was as surprising to her as it was to Zadar. In the freedom of the moment, she leaned close and kissed Zadar on the cheek, hugging his arm.

Nose to nose, Trisha looked up and into Zadar’s twinkling eyes. Laughter melted from her face followed by embarrassing shades of red that crept up to her ears. Releasing Zadar’s arm, she sat back while sliding away to a more respectable distance from the man, but her eyes continued to betray the woman’s inner feelings, she repeatedly glancing over at Zadar to see what his reaction was. It felt good to do something spontaneous and fun, especially with someone who allowed her those feelings. She sat silent for a long time, savoring those moments. Finally, in the most authoritative voice she could muster, Trisha admonished, “Zadar please, no more clowning. The hour is late and I have more to tell.”

Zadar could feel Trisha’s body language and her continual glances belied her tenor.

She was having a good time, relaxing in the company of a man, enjoying his presence, something, he believed, the woman had not done in many long years. It made him feel good to think he could do that, but at the same moment he puzzled about himself.

Something stirred within him that he was not at all familiar with. So odd… Later!

There were currently more important matters to discuss. Smiling, Zadar promised he would behave.

“Thank you.” Trisha returned his smile and then went on. “That right to kingship over a people and, in reality, the right of Firstborn, has passed on from father to son, along with a little mixing of Mihai’s blood from the daughters’ side, down to this very day, for two thousand years. And it was accomplished right under Asotos’ nose...why even with his help, and he never caught on.”

Zadar wrinkled up his face, wondering aloud, “How?”

“Easy!” Trisha exclaimed. “Like you and the others, your brother was searching a race of people to deliver the seed, the same race your kind paid way too much attention to even after your…our mother warned you, through Paul, that the seed was being delivered into the nations. But unlike you, Asotos continued to purge that race, which were even my distant kindred, bringing one pogrom after another in hopes of slaughtering them off.

Down to this day he has sought their murder, hoping to thwart Mother’s ambition for a coming seed.”

Zadar began to ask another question. Trisha hushed him. “Please! Allow me a breath without you butting in. The children of Mihai’s half-brothers, James and Jude, all married outside their race, seeking gentiles of common mind and belief. From those of Roman stock to that of the Gauls, Franks, Celts and…and all the other wild and unfettered lovers of freedom and war that my world could conjure up. Even some from the Isle of Meric were chosen by Mother to add their gene stock to James’ lineage.

“All the while, your brother is off butchering a people too foolish to realize that they no longer even have a kingly line to look to salvation for. Their own arrogance in thinking that their savior is yet to come has led to so much untimely destruction, Asotos believing them to still be chosen in some way.” Trisha laughed bitterly. “And he need look no farther than the end of his nose to find the real heir, the future king who will take his crown, glory and title. Not only is the heir under his nose, but the child is being guarded and protected by his very might and strength.”

Zadar exclaimed in question, “Why would Asotos want to protect Mother’s seed, especially when that seed will bring all that is his to a finish?! This I don’t understand at all!”

“Oh, that’s easy to explain.” Trisha grinned. “The fool is so full of himself, he refuses to believe the obvious. Stick an onion under his nose and he will declare its sweet fragrance. Place a rose before him and he will cry out because of the thorns, that he has been made a victim of an evil and wicked plot to destroy his house….that is, if the mood is upon him to do so. He thinks so much of his own wisdom, he forgets that of others, just like your kind who search so deep so as to be blinded by the obvious.

“Your wicked brother has tried to discover Mother’s secrets, especially concerning her kingdom and its day and hour. But Mother is not unaware of Asotos’ intentions, and his blind pride. She set up a people not so long ago. About the time of your own Great War, as you know, there was one raging in the Realms Below, too, whose leader of these people declared a period when this war was supposed to begin, and Mother helped that come about, doing so to trick your brother.

“As time went on, Asotos began to believe that Mother was moving these people along by her spirit whereas, in reality, they were just bumbling their way along in their arrogant pride. But the ruse worked to the point of Asotos delivering his own seed into that people’s company, eventually taking over the leadership of that brotherhood with his own chosen Hormaxian followers. After years of searching in the most intimate corners of that order, he could discover no specific person or group that appeared to be chosen or set aside for a special purpose.

“To top it all off, after the Great War ended, those same leaders got so full of themselves that they screwed up every prophecy they interpreted, taking their ignorance to the point of deifying their personal opinions while persecuting anyone with a different view. This was too much for Asotos, he not being able to understand how a chosen people could act so…so stupid, unless Mother wasn’t really helping them. Disgusted at feeling tricked, he abandoned his search there and returned to the original promised seed, reserving that order to serve him in other devious ways, one of which was to bring his own seed to full maturity.”

Zadar could not suppress asking, “But the seed still remains within that order, one abandoned by Mother? How can that be so?”

Trisha countered, “I did not say the order was abandoned. Even though many among its leaders have fallen into darkness long ago…their gentle, loving words and actions only a cover for evil and wicked deeds…the common folk, those who give heart and soul to what they have been taught about our mother and her promises, they are good stock, worth our mother’s time and consideration. It is the common folk who influence the boy the most, persons of little wealth but having big hearts and a love for truth, which, sad to say, they get little enough of.

“Anyway, despite the order’s leadership, Mother keeps sprinkling little truths into the garble distributed among the common folk, giving them more to digest than most of the poor souls in that retched realm. This also keeps them different from the other orders, odd you can say, what with all their proselytizing and refusing to celebrate and participate with other orders and groups in what most consider appropriate behavior. All this helps keep the boy in a constant state of confusion, his mind desiring one thing and his heart tearing at his soul to act differently. An odd duck is an easy thing to hide in plain sight.”

Zadar was truly intrigued, but he wondered, “Why the odd duck, now I mean? Why all the secrecy concerning the boy? The time must be close for his revealing, at least I’d think. And…and wouldn’t it be good for us to know so we could aid in his protection and guidance?”

Trisha shook her head. “Honest, caring people may make mistakes. The wrong word might prove disastrous. Also, any undue attention might make Asotos curious about the boy. That’s why I and the others have only visited him through the visions in our minds, so our presence wouldn’t be felt. But…but there’s even more important reasons to keep the child hidden.” At that, Trisha stood, stretching her arms high as she tensed her body to squeeze out the tired blood from her muscles, making room for new, oxygen-rich blood to replace it.

Zadar studied the woman with rapt attention. Her sheer blouse did little other than shade Trisha’s olive-brown skin, so distinctive a color for people of her race, and the woman’s shapely form burst through her raiment like the sun on a cloudy morning. The man feasted on the moment with a growing passion and desire, dogged by a strange and disconcerting fear, one he had never before experienced, a fear that should he speak the wrong word or make a misguided gesture, the moment would be lost forever, his aching heart filled with lonely bitterness. What was wrong with his head?

Trisha turned and stepped in front of Zadar. She bent forward, resting her hands on his knees, her face only inches from his. “Well,” she asked, “what do you think?”

“Think?! About what?!” Zadar’s body erupted with emotion of a magnitude he had long forgotten existed. Even Gabrielle, on their first nights of loving, had not moved the man’s explosive ardor to greater heights than he was experiencing at this moment. He struggled with every fiber of his strength to keep his arms in check, they seeking to tear themselves from their shoulder sockets so that wanting hands could explore and fondle the boundless beauty presented to them. Beads of sweat formed on Zadar’s forehead as he fought with all his might to keep his eyes on hers and not stare at the two swaying spheres of sensual intoxication singing their hypnotic, impassioned lullaby.

Zadar forced his attention upon Trisha’s face, searching the woman’s eyes. Was she teasing him, flirting with his senses? No, the woman’s eyes betrayed the innocence of a little maiden. She did not see herself as beautiful, so how was it possible others did? Her

question had been honest and not related to her appearance or romantic charms. There was more. He could see a sadness buried deep within those eyes, a loneliness sown by years of toil and grief, those scars still opened and raw.

All these things Zadar found hiding behind Trisha’s obsidian orbs made his heart ache in a terrible and wonderful way, both beautiful and terrifying feelings tearing through him at the same moment. Trisha was special, precious - a rare treasure to be won or lost upon a breath, a word, or the tiniest misstep. Hard as granite mountains but fragile as the finest porcelain, that was this woman. The man shuddered with concern, realizing how perilous the moment was. One false step and Trisha would turn away and walk out of his life, and that thought set a fire in Zadar’s heart so intense, he nearly cried aloud.

Though his eyes continued to peer into Trisha’s, Zadar’s mind drifted into other worlds of thought. He wished he could make time stand still, the two of them frozen forever as they were, becoming statues, eternally placed here for the whole world to see, to admire. Happy would he be to leave for the Forgotten Lands having shared but this one moment with this woman. A sigh of contentment slipped from his mouth as he pondered what had become of his heart and why it so troubled him.

“Well?” Zadar was jolted back to reality by Trisha’s question. It took a moment to sink in. Shaking his head to clear the fog, he apologized, feigning some lame excuse for his actions. After mildly chiding him, Trisha asked, “I know the night has been long, and we could conclude matters another day, that is, if you wish, or…”

Zadar bolted upright, taking hold of Trisha’s arms as he did. “Oh no! No! Please go on. You were discussing…reasons…reasons for…”

“Reasons why the boy must remain hidden, at least for the moment, the most important of reasons...” Trisha looked into Zadar’s face, seeing his confusion slowly retreating. “Do you want me to tell you?”

“Please!” Zadar nearly shouted, catching himself before he did.

Trisha smiled, her own heart stirring with long-forgotten feelings. “Zadar, this war is a blood feud, a brother war. Feelings get all mixed up, are all mixed up, and few are the numbers of your kind who have been fully tested out as to loyalty and trust for this cause. Indeed, Mother warned me to keep a wary eye out for possible traitors among us.”

Disbelief filled Zadar’s face, he blurting out, “Impossible! Impossible! It can’t be!

Not now. Not since the Great War that…”

“That did nothing except get millions of your kind killed. Nothing...” Trisha shook her head. “The Great War was a travesty, solving nothing and accomplishing little other than giving your people a stay before the next and greater war - one that must now be fought as certainly as the Second Great War that was recently waged in the Realms Below. And, oh yes, treason did play a major role in your Great War. From the Day of Tears to the slaughter at Memphis, treasonous voices brought about ruin and devastation.”

Trisha stood, glancing at the bubbling waters. “Not all who allied themselves with your wicked brother have fallen into eternal darkness, not yet. This our mother did tell me. She said that a wicked act might not betray a wicked heart, for it is not the heart that tears life from the soul, but spirit that is born of the mind. A heart might well seduce the soul into wicked acts, but the mind must surrender fully to the machinations of the heart before the spirit will consume all hope and goodness, casting the soul into eternal darkness.” She frowned. “Do I not repeat what you have long come to already know?”

Zadar agreed, adding, “True, but you have woven your words with an understanding found only among our most wise and exalted Ancients. Their clarity is beyond the peal of a bell on a crystal clear night.” He wrinkled up his face in question. “Why, then, do you trust me with such secrets…me, a stranger so newly introduced to you?”

Trisha thought a moment before answering. “There are many reasons, few tangible, most emotional. First and foremost, I have listened to your mother’s heart when she speaks about you. Oh yes, many have been the times when your name has drifted into our conversations, your mother being extremely fond of her youngest child. I can feel her trust in you. I trust her feelings. And then there’s the sweet music…harmonics I feel when I’m near you, the same as I felt when Darla stood close to me. Strange how such melodious refrains can come from hearts so torn and twisted by bloodshed and violence.

And…and I feel no discord when I’m around you. Oh yes, my friend, you have not hidden well your passion for my flesh. I can smell your desire for it.”

Zadar started to apologize. Trisha placed a finger on his lips, hushing him. “I did not speak of it in disdain, only in passing. Little do I yet know if and when I could accept such overt suggestions, but I believe them to be honest and filled with restraint, your heart seeking my good and not your own. I guess that’s also part of the reason I trust you. Few men from my world, even good and honest men, would have been able to control their manly passions had those passions been hurled upon them as yours were upon you. I am sorry. My actions were innocent, but still I should have been more careful, me knowing full well that you are not a god but only a man. Trisha stepped away, facing the little stream. “It is quite difficult for innocent persons to discern wicked discord in its early stages.” She faced Zadar. “My friend, neither you nor I are any longer innocent.”

“How so?” Zadar asked, he being more absorbed with her earlier statement.

Noticing, Trisha admonished him to pay closer attention to the moment. “You and I are so different from most I have met in this world. We become suspicious and wary when confronted with new situations. We question things when others see no reason to.

My heart has been twisted by the old evil that still lives in my former world, and I believe you also have a heart twisted to those same harmonics. Though not evil ourselves, we feel evil in all its convoluted ways. I cannot hide those evil harmonics, it being one reason, I fear, for having acquired so few friends in this place.

“You project those same harmonics, but the people like you, trust you, so they disregard the evil they feel, eventually forgetting it is there. And there’s the danger.

Others carry similar evil vibrations within their own hearts, I think for more dubious reasons, but the people ignore them also, allowing a traitor easy access to the secrets hidden in their minds and hearts. I know this as fact, for I felt it tonight at the council.

Evil resides among us, the room echoing its warning, but none, not even Mihai will listen to their own hearts and accept its presence…that is, except for your poor sister, Darla.”

“What do you imply?” Zadar asked, confused.

“This…” Trisha waved her hand as she spoke. “Your harmonic fingerprint rang clear for me because of your close proximity to me and length of time I was given to study your scent, so to speak. I felt the scent of others but could not trace them, they being smothered out by Darla’s, which is almost overpowering. Whatever evil resides within her is so grave and venomous, even a dullard can sense it, making many people think the woman is cracked, if you know what I mean.”

Zadar nodded.

Trisha sadly shook her head. “I don’t believe that to be the case. Darla is badly damaged, partly from the evil…I have heard some say demons…but also from the way she has been made to feel the outcast. The woman lives, I believe, a waking nightmare, constantly battling something within her mind that seeks her enslavement or destruction.

Still, I feel a sweet music flowing through her, from her, and I see that those who also feel it, as you do, draw ever closer to her in strange and lasting bonds.”

She looked Zadar in the eyes. “I have been told that there exists a love-bond between her comrades at arms and herself, a bond of blood and loyalty. It is the leadership, the wise and Ancients among your kind who resist the woman’s advances for companionship. They treat her with polite disdain, grudgingly indulging her company…at Mother’s request, of course…while carefully avoiding the creature’s contaminating touch. Like a leper from my old world who is loved and hated she is, loved for pity’s sake, her siblings wishing to see no one suffer as she, and hated out of fear of contamination, that somehow they will catch their sister’s disease.”

Shaking her head in wonder, Trisha confessed, “I don’t understand your kind, so confusing they are to me. How can they consign a child to such emotional tribulation and still be the very sons who men like John and Abraham held in such esteem? Darla is a sweet, caring woman, she being willing to sacrifice her own life for anyone in that room tonight, even Ardon. I know her spirit that well, can feel it. I trust her with all my heart, the same as I find myself trusting you.”

Reaching out and taking Zadar’s hand, Trisha added, concerned, “There were other evils there this night, evils of malice and deceit, evils unrestrained by loving and caring hearts. Such malcontents can cloak their evil behind benevolent faces and kindly posturing while lying in wait to strike, like an adder on a shaded path. That, my friend, is why the secrets I have told you this eve must remain that…secrets. Should word of this boy leak out before the coming hour, all that Mother has worked for may be in jeopardy.

It must remain our secret.”

Zadar was still full of questions. He was about to ask another when he saw Trisha yawn drowsily. She raised her hand. “Please, my friend, I feel the sands of sleep descending upon me. This has been a long and draining day for me on both my mind and heart. We will pick up our discussion at another hour.” No sooner had her words been spoken than a sudden wave of exhaustion swept over her. Sitting to avoid stumbling and possibly falling into the chill waters, Trisha let out a sigh, closing her eyes. “Dear one…” she offered groggily, “give me a moment and then we shall return to the council.”

Drifting off to sleep, Trisha leaned into Zadar’s shoulder, snuggling her face against his chest. As the rhythm of the woman’s breathing turned into the melody of a sleeping song, Zadar wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tight.

He smiled, pleased with the moment, no desire to return to the others, no desire to ever leave this place…not as long as this woman remained here. Never before in his long life did he feel as content and satisfied as he did now, and he wanted to savor this moment for as long as possible.

The little stream bubbled and blurped along its merry way, its crystal-clear waters eventually cascading into the blackness far below. Over and over, the tiny tempest sang its sweet, merry song to the tired sojourners sleeping upon the stone bench hiding in the shadows of the narrow draw.

‘Sleep on. Sleep on.

Tomorrow is soon enough to wake.

Sleep on. Sleep on.

Find peace in a troubled world.’

* * *

The council’s business lasted well into the early morning hours. First, details of Asotos’ offer were disclosed, requiring much open discussion, at times appearing to be little more than the desire of certain Ancients to extol their assumed wisdom regarding the subject. At length, attention was turned to the series of events that occurred up to and the taking of Zephath’s crew. Of course, each individual account needed to be scrutinized, for fear some important detail might be overlooked. Even Lowenah eventually tired of such games but, out of polite etiquette, remained silent.

Captain BedanSheba of Shikkeron was grilled to distraction. He patiently attempted to describe Shikkeron’s part played in this adventure, but was constantly interrupted by questions, more often caused by ignorance of naval procedure than actual relationship to events. The man was never in good humor, hadn’t been since first being snubbed for promotion many long wars ago, something that had repeated itself throughout his less than glorious career. When Ardon questioned Bedan again about some trivial matter, Bedan’s temper almost got the best of him. Embarrassed and tired, he finally was dismissed, skulking away into the shadows.

Tashi, governor over the Trizentine, was well received. Being an Ancient, few dared question her account of matters. Her testimony went quickly, recounting the seemingly random Stasis attacks against settlements in the colonies on Sustrepho, the most distant, inhabited planet in the Trizentine star systems. Her description of the kidnapping and torture of innocent settlers stirred many a heart to righteous indignation.

Mihai also took the stage, even sheepishly describing her encounter with the droid, including her rescue by a mysterious ally. Then there were other eyewitness accounts from transports picking up strange communications and peculiar sightings of ships being where ships shouldn’t be.

It was Euroaquilo who stole the show. He could not speak unless his entire body was consumed in it. His booming voice, wild exuberance, flair for theatrics and love for the poetic made him a favorite at the council, and he was at his best this eve. When finished, he had touched every level of the audience’s emotions, from heights of laughter to depths of despair, drawn the people into his account, tugging at their heartstrings with his vivid renderings of the pirate scourge until no dry eye could be found in the house.

Of course, Ardon needed to have his say, he being more knowledgeable than many about this most inhospitable place in space. He was longwinded, self-aggrandizing to the point of braggadocio, consuming time with seemingly endless, minute, unimportant detailed accounts liberally peppered with anecdotal illustrations rarely related to the night’s subject. Still, there was great value in the things the man said. As Lowenah was often heard to say of his counsel, ‘If you dig deep enough, you will find water. But dig quickly or you will certainly die of thirst!’

When Ardon finally paused to sip some water, Mihai politely interrupted, requesting she be allowed the privilege of summing matters up, it really being the fear that soon the

audience’s snoring would overwhelm the speakers. At length, the matter was taken to the table, meaning it was time for open debate and, hopefully, final consensus.

It was during this debate agreement was reached that, first, the capture of Zephath’s crew was not a random act and, even though carried out by Stasis Pirates, was an act perpetrated by Asotos. Second, Mihai must accept Asotos’ request to moot with him on the chosen planet, EremiaPikros, which she did. Third, a peaceful solution was better for the welfare of the prisoners than warlike threatening. Lowenah accepted this in principle, but strongly suggested Mihai retain a small contingent of soldiers to accompany the entourage...a fatefully wise decision.

Lowenah had also chosen to go, saying that her presence had also been requested.

PalaHar and Tizrela were to be her color guard, with Tashi and Ardon among the chief counselors to follow in her train. She also requested Zadar be allowed to go along, not providing reason other than he needed the training.

And then, to everyone’s surprise, Lowenah requested Darla come along as well. The room erupted in angry debate with a few staunchly defending the girl, but most condemning it as recipe for disaster. For twenty minutes, the arguing persisted, almost to the point of riot. Finally, Lowenah stood, her own anger silencing the people, declaring there was no room for debate. The choice was final. With or without the approval of the council, Darla was to accompany her, being her personal horse maiden. Ardon still attempted a coup, ranting on for five minutes before Lowenah silenced him. It was settled. No more debate.

What of Darla? She had weathered the storm in silent, stoic fashion the same as she had done so many times before. At length, when everything quieted down, she slipped out a side door, disappearing into the night. Few noticed, fewer cared. After all, it was well known the girl did not have feelings, at least feelings like the rest of them. She never cried or laughed when in their company…‘no emotions, no emotions at all, poor thing, poor sick, cracked, little creature’.

The council continued its business of preparing for the prisoner exchange. There were to be numerous ships - one battle cruiser, two frigates, four barqs and a few smaller transports. For some unknown reason, Lowenah requested Shikkeron be included, wanting it for herself and her party. Then she requested a dozen fighters be assigned to the taskforce. Some grumbled, but Lowenah won out, citing the enemy’s need to see a show of force while extending an opened hand.

When complaint arose another time concerning the growing army being taken to the prisoner exchange, Lowenah’s temper flared. “I will not lift up a hand in defense of my children…cannot! If your brother has set a trap for you, who will escape if all you have are threatening words to exchange for missiles and swords? Don’t be complete fools!

Even an ass knows when danger lurks down the road!”

Finally, plans were settled, the date of departure decided upon as well as exchange goods and enemy prisoners used for trading. The biggest hurdle was the need to surrender AsreHalom, now better known as ‘Salak’, back to Asotos. There was little choice. The murderer of multitudes was to be returned to Asotos or there would be no exchange and, worse yet, Asotos threatened to give his hostages back to the Stasis Pirates if Salak was not given to him. With an agreement on this final issue, the council meeting was concluded.

Being such a late hour, few lingered in the council chambers after being dismissed.

Some had unfinished business, others desired to capture a fleeting moment with a dear companion not seen for a while.

Mihai? She remained seated, elbows resting on the table, hands holding an aching head. Her experience with Trisha was troubling enough, the pain from being pummeled by the woman’s telepathic attack still hammering the back of her head. And then the fiasco over Darla had delivered a migraine that made Mihai’s forehead pound with a nauseous headache.

Ardon smiled to himself as the raised platform descended into the floor. In a few moments, he and Tashi would be exiting into the night in search of spending a few carefree days at the mountain hot springs on Diamond Ridge. It was not to be.

“Lord Ardon!” Surprised, Ardon turned to see Lowenah approaching, her face stern and filled with displeasure. “Lord Ardon, a word.” At that, Lowenah’s hand went up, signaling Bedan to come over.

This was not good. Ardon attempted to excuse himself, claiming some important errand. Lowenah dismissed it. “Listen, you old snipe, I want a word with you!” She walked up close, looking into his face. “Your actions were uncalled for tonight! My girl has done nothing to you other than display greater dignity when humiliated by you and the other silly fools here!”

Surprised by Lowenah’s curt remarks, Ardon defended his actions, placing an opened hand over his heart, pleading, “I only spoke up about a matter the others here held in their hearts. I…”

Lowenah brushed him off. “Horseshit! ” She glanced over at Bedan, who was nearing. Lowering her voice, she warned, “You pull a stunt like that again and I’ll make sure you regret it!”

“You wanted to see me, Mother?” Bedan offered as he approached.

Lowenah shot another warning glance at Ardon before turning toward Bedan and taking his hand as she smiled, answering, “Yes, dear, I did. Just a moment, please.”

Hiding her frown, Lowenah politely addressed Ardon, asking, “My son, would you be so willing as to do your mother a tiny favor?”

Having already forgotten Lowenah’s recent threat, Ardon graciously bowed, answering with a grin while glancing out of the corner of his eye to make sure his audience, Bedan, was paying attention. After all, it was only proper for the fellow to see just how important a counselor Ardon was in Mother’s eyes. “It would be my greatest pleasure, my Lord and Lady. Whatever you wish...”

Lowenah curtly snapped back, she not even pretending a smile, “I wish a lot! But I will keep my task for you simple, something at your level of manageability. Wisdom is as wisdom does...” She cast a quick eye toward Bedan whose shocked expression was telling of her success at insult.

Lowenah’s affront to Ardon had been worse than a stinging slap to the face, the man wincing as if receiving such a blow. There was no wish on his part to see Bedan’s reaction…the greatest part of Mother’s insult…to have a common officer witness such a rebuff. Gathering his wits about him, he stuttered a polite response.

Her tone changed little, Lowenah’s displeasure with Ardon’s earlier actions still troubling her. “Lord Ardon, you are to go as soon as may be to Chrusion and obtain for

me some of the chrysolite stones from the Black Mountains. They must be from the Black Mountains.”

Ardon’s jaw dropped in shock and surprise, the man quickly making a flustered reply. “My Lady! My Lady, it’s yeoman’s duty you are requesting of me! Certainly you must be mistaken. I have many important matters to conclude before leaving for the prisoner exchange. It will be nine days’ hard running just to reach the planet and return.

We leave on the tenth day. That gives us less than one day to accomplish our mission. I will have no time to prepare for…”

Lowenah cut him off in a curt retort. “All I need is a breathing lump of flesh to stand beside me at the prisoner exchange, someone to look official. I expect nothing more than that from you. It will take no time to pack your things for the trip, seeing that you’ve already done it, haven’t you?” She lowered an eyebrow, staring accusatively into Ardon’s face. Turning to Bedan, Lowenah’s sweet smile returned. “Son, I want you to deliver this…this sneak to Chrusion and make sure he does what he’s been told.”

Bedan frowned, still stinging from Ardon’s uncalled for grilling earlier that night.

“Mother, I have been stationed on patrol for eighteen months. I was hoping to take a day or so and visit friends in Oros. Plus, I have Shikkeron to ready for the trip, it being in need of extensive maintenance.”

“You’ve plenty of time to meet with old comrades when we finish at the prisoner exchange.” Lowenah patted Bedan’s shoulder. “Hopefully, this trip will keep you both out of mischief.”

Bedan said nothing, his eyes telling Mother of his disgust at taxiing the ‘great Ardon’

across star systems. Lowenah stretched, giving the man a soft kiss on his cheek and began to play with a button on his uniform. “Son, I know Shikkeron is in need of repair and I have already taken counsel with Euroaquilo to have that assignment given to a qualified officer. Starlight has just been refitted with a whole bunch of new toys and its crew has not yet been assigned their commander. You take the little cutter and do a shakedown cruise, shoot a target or two to test out its arsenal.”

She looked up and into his eyes. “Remember, as captain, you are in charge of this mission. All those aboard must do the bidding of the captain.” She stared at Ardon.

“That includes everyone!” Looking back at Bedan and gently stroking his upper arm, Lowenah flirtingly cooed, “Now be a good son and deliver back to me the baubles I have requested. If Lord Ardon should dally, you have my permission to leave him there.” She laughed.

Lowenah then addressed a very disgruntled Ardon. “Thank you, sir, for volunteering for this very dangerous mission, though I believe it safer there than here, for the moment.

Leftenant Darla shall be charged with the repairs and equipping of Shikkeron for the trip.

I believe that will keep my child busy enough to prevent her hunting you down in the depths of space.”

She warned Bedan, “Do be careful and keep a good eye out for possible attack. Let me warn you, Darla is an excellent fighter pilot! It would be better to surrender up the counselor here than risk a confrontation. No one would slight you for trying to protect the rest of the crew, given the circumstance.”

Ardon was thoroughly miffed. He detested this dressing down, especially in front one of the lesser children like Bedan. And to have him placed in charge?! That was

almost too much! But it was Darla who was most troubling. Why all the fuss? Still, Mother was in a mood. Better to leave things go...

Lowenah’s eyes filled with sadness as she turned her attention back to Ardon. How could he not understand the importance she placed on having Darla’s presence at the prisoner exchange? True, she had confided in no one the reasons, but Ardon was not dense…that dense to see that it was not on some emotional whim that the girl had been selected to make the trip.

‘Pity…what a pity he cannot see the forest.’ Lowenah attempted a smile and, in a gentle voice suggested, “I know you planned to share some quiet hours with Tashi. Why not take her along with you?” She glanced up to see the woman loitering near the door.

“She’s been too long in the outer reaches of the universe. The lady needs a little special attention. I know you can deliver that. She will love the trip and cherish the company.”

Ardon’s gloominess dissolved in an instant. He hugged Lowenah and, after giving her a gentle kiss, hurried over to Tashi. Arm in arm, the two disappeared through the door leading to the outer balcony and into the darkness.

* * *

Darla’s embarrassment had quickly turned to anger approaching rage, but she was a good girl, never allowing her inner feelings to betray her to others. She quietly slipped from the auditorium into the night shadows. Euroaquilo had not at first noticed her leaving, but there was little he could have done at that moment anyway. Finally, after finishing business with Lowenah, he bid his adieus and hurried away to search for his girl.

There was a place where Darla would sometimes go when the dark mood took her.

It was quiet and out of the way, a place where the world did not intrude, where she could be alone with her feelings. Euroaquilo was taken there once when Darla was still a maiden, she showing him her secret garden, her private place. He believed she might well be sequestered there at this moment, an ancient garden about two furlongs northwest of the old palace…at least that was what it was at the time. Mulberry trees, holly, mistletoe and thorny rose vines dominated the ruins of what the Ancients called a

‘Cherub’s Chatue’ or ‘Gate’, its blue-green, iridescent stones charred and burnt as if by some molten blast, along with the remains of a northern wall now overgrown with black lichens and hoary ivy. Upon its inner face were rune letters that, when translated in the ancient tongue, read, ‘Druid Zodiak Doract Tosommia’ meaning ‘So shall come to all sorcerers who apostatize’.

It was a gloomy place, said to have fallen to ruin during the day of quaking, the night the burning of the Great Star, Lagandow, first appeared in the evening sky above Palace City. Few children visited the garden, it being so foreboding and ominous. PalaHar once wrote of it, ‘It reminds one of living death. Even animals avoid the place. Never does the sun reach through the gloom of the upper foliage. And when you stand in the desolate, center circle, there comes upon your heart a feeling of unwelcome. Few can tolerate more than fleeting moments in that dismal garden.’

Struggling his way through the thicket of thorns and twisted vines, Euroaquilo finally reached the edge of the inner circle of this most gloomy of places. Darkness was pushed aside here by an eerie glow that radiated out from the charred ruins and up through the

lifeless soil. Searching the green gloom, his eyes focused on a lone figure slowly pacing back and forth, wrapped in its own arms, mumbling curses and oaths.

Darla was in an unusually foul mood, so deep in vindictive thought she had not noticed Euroaquilo’s approach. The man slowly backed away from the clearing, shaking his head sadly. This was no time to intrude upon the woman, not like this. He quietly made his way from the garden and sat at the curb of the lonely, narrow street that wound its way past, pondering what to do next. He decided to give the girl some time. A few minutes, a half hour maybe, and she just might be willing to accept a little company...maybe...

Ardon’s actions were totally inappropriate this last eve, but so was that of the entire council. And what of him? Had he not done more than stand once in the girl’s defense?

Had he bellowed out in his commander’s voice her innocence, might things have ended differently? All were guilty of inaction. Only Terey and Planetee and that fellow from the Second Realm…yes, that Jebbson Garlock fellow…they, alone, other than Mother, had stood the storm of protest with vigor and determination, defending Darla to the end.

Still, Euroaquilo was not head of the council, only an invited member. There had been protocol to follow. Ardon was placed in charge after the new field marshal departed. He clenched his fists in frustration, angrily shaking his head. Protocol would never buy his silence again!

When he hoped sufficient time had passed, Euroaquilo made his way into the thicket, stomping and crashing his way while calling out Darla’s name. As he burst out of the twisted, jungle-like tangle of foliage, he looked up to see the girl frozen in place, angry eyes staring in his direction. The woman did not run. It was not her nature. Had the person arriving been unwanted company, even Ardon, she would have quietly dismissed herself and slid away into the darkness. That was Darla’s style.

But this was Euroaquilo. Even if she had wanted to flee, it would have been impossible. Euroaquilo was her mentor, her god, the man who gave her life and breath.

He was her reason for living when others around her were surrendering to the evil of the moment. Through glazed eyes, she stared at the man she so loved, pressure of hidden tears pushing at her eyes until it felt as though they would explode. She refused to cry…no...or run to the arms she so wanted to encircle her. The pain was too great for that now. Not now. The furnace of wrath building in her chest was still heating up, waiting to be unleashed in all its fury.

Euroaquilo smiled, innocently offering, “Oh, there you are! I have been searching everywhere. Now that business is finished, I’d hoped we could enjoy some private time…you know, go do something together, just the two of us.”

Cross-armed, Darla stood erect with both feet planted like pillars rooted in granite.

Other than a quiver in her upper lip and puffy, red, tormented eyes, the woman refused to surrender up the roiling emotion torturing her. She was lord of her destiny! No power in this or the Realms Below could force the woman to act against her iron will. She, the child of a hundred wars, standing countless battle lines when others around her fled…she, the maiden of secret terrors, refused to give up this moment, this victory over mindless fools to her own lack of control.

Sadness swept over Euroaquilo, watching Darla struggle for mastery of her inner self. What strength, majesty and power of will! Who among all of Lowenah’s children was of greater constitution than this woman...who more perfect in discipline and might?

This was no unstable, unpredictable woman of fragile spirit who would put the success of the coming prisoner exchange at risk. Now more than ever, Euroaquilo wished he had spoken with greater boldness in Darla’s defense at the council meeting.

The woman was a danger to herself, though. Euroaquilo knew this child well, but what of the depth of her inner strength? There were limits to one’s ability to subdue emotional stress. He had seen it all too often on the field of battle. A person’s sword might well succeed in bringing to ruin their enemy, only for their mind to shatter when the moment of rest arrived. To this day, he paid visits upon close companions who had not yet regained control of their minds, they residing in shadow-worlds of random dreams and frightening visions.

Darla was truly stretched to her limit, more so than he had seen in recent memory, the council’s uncalled for verbal abuses heaped upon her having been severely cruel.

Euroaquilo must play this carefully or his girl might just snap. Few any longer held her trust. Did he? The man frowned, sighing, deciding to face the beast head on. After all, that was his nature. Isn’t that how he acquired his name in the first place?

He extended his hands, softly speaking so apologetically, “My DusmeAstron, my heart yearns for your approval. Have I caused you harm this night? Have my actions damaged your tender heart?”

Darla cast her gaze toward the ground, two giant teardrops falling into the shadows.

‘DusmeAstron’, Euroaquilo’s name given to her the day he took the child for his own…

‘Western Star’, ‘Sunset Star’. He had said it was so fitting that she carry the name of the last daughter of the evening, the brightest star after the setting of the sun, it bringing hope of a night filled with light and promise.

“Please, my Lord, do not kill your servant girl with fair speech.”

Euroaquilo began again. “My DusmeAstron…”

Darla spun around, hiding her face as a sob escaped her. “Please, my Lord, do not kill your daughter with your words!”

“Should I die instead of you!” Euroaquilo blurted out, his voice strained to cracking.

He stepped forward, arms outstretched, pleading, “You and I are children of but one blood. We are one, you and I. Will not my heart bleed if yours is wounded? If you are sad, will I not cry? My heart weeps over the widowhood of my beloved sister. Please!

Please, allow your own flesh to weep in anguish over your loss.”

Darla slumped as quiet sobs increased, having surrendered for the moment any control over them. “My Lord, please… My Lord, please don’t…”

In a heartbeat, Euroaquilo was standing behind Darla, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He could feel convulsive energy coursing through the woman’s body, the wound upon her heart intense as he heralded his regrets in her ear. “My darling, had I known the agony this passing eve was to heap upon you, I would have stood the line to the death in your defense!”

Pulling away and spinning around, Darla stared at Euroaquilo, her teary eyes glaring with anger. No longer could the woman contain her fiery rebukes, unleashing them with full fury. “Damn their worthless skins! All of them! Ardon! Damn his no good hide!

Old bag of shit! Windy shit, useless dung heap!”

She nearly choked, taking a breath. “I have drenched my sword in the blood of all living souls to preserve their asses while they romance diplomatic behind the safety of distant walls! I have stood the line while the bravest and noblest of my kindred fled,

pissing in fright from nearing death, my own flesh standing as a shield of safety for them!”

Shaking a fist in an angry rage, she cried, “Four times I have lain in my own blood while my spirit sought escape! I have crawled miles in the filth with ruined legs, dragging my sister’s corpse so the enemy could not desecrate her temple! Through the ravages of famine, fire, fear and fury, I have carried out my sacred duties in order to bring this goddamned Rebellion to a finish, a rebellion I share no responsibility for starting! What goddamned right do all those miserable ingrates have in declaring who is sane and fit?!”

Euroaquilo sadly nodded.

Darla was not finished. In anguish, she cried, “My sword has consigned hundreds of souls to the fires of Hell! Do they think my heart doesn’t weep over such murder?!”

Turning away, she put her hands to her face and sobbed, “Never have I requested one thing for myself from any of those bastards, not even a straw pillow for my head! Their counsel I do not seek. My opinions I keep to myself. Did I intrude tonight, placing my name high up above the others? My soul sought escape from this night. But no! The Lord of Lords commanded my appearance there, and then it was by request of the new king that I acted the part of consort, escaping to the shadows when possible.”

She shook her head. “Many are those who, not by design but by fate or circumstance, have received greater glory and rank. Never once did I complain unless it was one of my brothers who deserved the recognition… and rarely was that even delivered. At Avery, my troop of less than thirty held a force of four hundred at bay for six hours, preventing our flank from being overrun. All but six I left behind in the frozen sands, digging their shallow graves myself with bare, bloody fingers. Who of those so wise and noble reflected upon the sacrifices made to stay the line that day? Not even a note placed in the official records for such gallant valor could I get them to write!”

Turning to look in Euroaquilo’s face, Darla lamented, “What of me? ‘Oh my! We must be so careful, mustn’t we? She’s cracked, you know, unstable, unpredictable. She may say something wrong and offend the Great Serpent…’ Wicked WastePipe! Lord of the dung heap and the flies! ‘ Oh! We must be so careful to not upset him! Ardon must stay close to the brattling, for fear she will put others at risk!’ That…that, my Lord, ”

Darla spat, “is my reward for countless years of sacrifice and bravery!”

Darla rested weary hands on Euroaquilo’s upper arms. She was exhausted, but the fires of distress were not yet extinguished. There was another storm building, hopefully the last, but he could not tell. “My dear Dusme…”

Darla stepped back, livid with rage. “Where were those great leaders when we lay in the ruins of Mordem, huddling in desperation to warm the dying as the winter winds screamed and bombs burst all around?!”

Tears finally gushed forth. Like a mother filled with grief, she wailed, “I should have perished on our day of lost valor at Memphis! As least I would have fallen with those who were real heroes. Jared died, pierced through by a lance, pulling my broken body from the charging, horned beasts. Tifara, my dearest companion, was torn asunder as she shielded me from a rogue missile, my leg being nearly severed at the knee when it exploded. Our reward for holding that gap on that day of infamy was seventy slaughtered companions and an ever-aching injury that hasn’t healed completely down to this day.

And not one goddamned ‘thank you’ for all our suffering…!”

The color had drained from Darla’s face, her energy quickly waning. She stared up into Euroaquilo’s eyes, searching…searching. Falling onto his chest, fingers clutching at his shirt, distraught, she cried, “What good is my life?! If I should die tomorrow, will I be remembered only as the woman whose mind is demon-bent?!” The woman buried her face on his shoulder and wept.

Euroaquilo embraced his child in burly arms. He could hear her labored breathing as tears sapped what little strength remained. A moan came from the woman’s lips, a powerful headache brewing. Soon Darla’s knees began to buckle, no longer having the ability to sustain their load.

Mustering the last of her energy, Darla looked into Euroaquilo’s face, whimpering,

“I have tried to be a good child… so hard I’ve tried. You do believe me, don’t you?

Don’t…”

Darla collapsed, fainted maybe, Euroaquilo catching her up in his arms before she fell. Carrying her to a moss-covered corner of the garden under a mulberry tree before laying the girl down and sitting beside her, he looked around at the things the eerie light revealed to his eyes, finally studying the runes in the broken wall. Funny, he had avoided this place like all the other children did, but now he wondered why. There was a quiet comfort hidden here. It wasn’t foreboding…it felt secure. That was it, restful and secure, like none of the evil in the universe could penetrate the opaque jungle surrounding this private world. It was a safe place. At least that was how it seemed to be for Darla.

Already she was fast asleep, her breathing deep and peaceful. There appeared to be a force of some kind watching over the girl. Euroaquilo could feel it, too. She would rest comfortably tonight, nestled in this thorny fortress. No bad dreams would invade her mind. The mysterious forces of this place would see to that.

Euroaquilo began a little song, attempting to force his rather loud, bass voice to sing in a hush. At length, the merry tune…one he had so often sung to his lady when she was still a maiden in the palace…came to a finish. He looked up to see a glow in the eastern sky, knowing a new day was quickly approaching. Well, what the hurry? No one would think to search here for him and… and his duties could wait a little while.

He lay down beside Darla, whispering in her ear.

“May the Star of the West sail on to worlds trouble-free.

There is not another like you,

nor will there ever be.

You have taught us how to live in the shadows of death, and to die while finding treasures of life.

Teach us,

No…teach me your ways so that I, too,

may become wise like you.

Be patient, be patient with us and allow us,

please, to also grow up.

You are not forgotten and unloved,

never will be,

never will…”

A mist arose from the fading light, smothering Euroaquilo in a drowsy embrace. His head fell, resting against Darla’s shoulder. There they remained, long into the following evening, the ever-shade of this protective jungle hiding them from all the sights and sounds of the busy world of Palace City.

* * *

The evening had not been kind to Mihai. Her earlier speech was now all but forgotten due to later events. And her kingship? Only a few visited their congratulations upon her after the council meeting was finished. Few remembered, she supposed. A confusing kaleidoscope of visions and words spun around in her head. Trisha’s warnings still painfully echoed in her thoughts, acting to jumble the tortured recollections of earlier proceedings.

What was clear, though, was the fact that the world was about to change, was changing…had changed. The new field marshal had seen to that. Tomorrow, war would arise, and this time it would not attempt to contain the enemy by treaty or armistice. No!

This woman spoke of total war, a battle to the finish either by annihilation or expulsion of Asotos and his people from this realm. One or the other, or by their own extinction through the same combat, there was no other option offered this time - total war, leading to total victory - or total extermination. Oh well, she was to sit this one out, only having to decide when the slaughter was to begin. ‘Not tonight! Ponder it another time.’ Mihai forced her mind on to other matters.

What of Darla? Mihai shook her head, thinking about the humiliation heaped upon her sister this eve. The counselors were blind to the reality of this person, Darla being outstanding in loyalty and resolve. She was loved and trusted by those who stood the course of battle beside her, but the council? There were few upon it, truly, few at the meeting tonight who understood war let alone actually having shared in making it.

Valiant, mighty ones like Terey, Planetee, Euroaquilo, and PalaHar were rare among the counselors.

And of Tizrela? Mihai didn’t know. From the battle of Melas, the Black Pit, during the Third Megiddo War until Memphis, she had been one of the outstanding proponents for total war. But something had changed the day they carried her shattered body away from the blistered plain in front of that city. Maybe it was the destruction of her regiment in Din’s counterattack – so many of her closest companions slaughtered - or the severe injuries that took years to heal. Or was it the cumulative effect of seeing so much death and destruction from the endless wars? Whatever it was, the woman seemed to have lost her edge, her subdued support of the new field marshal or of Darla a reflection of it. Did she still have the metal it took to lead armies? Mihai wondered.

What of herself? Darla received little support from her, the person who should have been the girl’s most loyal confederate. Why, even that Garlock fellow, a man never sharing the blade with the woman, stood defiantly in Darla’s defense, describing her as the ‘most ardent supporter of the innocent soul of all of Yehowah’s children’, a statement that rankled more than one at the council. Mihai? Well, she acted kingly, staying aloof

and not openly choosing sides. But that was no excuse! Mihai hung her head in shame.

Even her throbbing head gave no absolution. She just had not thought it that important, that is, until she watched the devastation grow on her sister’s face. By then, it was too late.

A smile of shame grew on her lips. At least Euroaquilo stood up for the girl. And Terey and Planetee, why, they were ferocious in their defense of Darla! Had more, just a few, possibly just she, herself, raised a fist in support, the crowd might well have been swayed to see it Mother’s way without her being forced to cast humiliation upon her daughter.

Ma-we...Lowenah...had done the best she could, seeing her new king did nothing.

Not wanting to usurp the throne, she worked out a compromise that still permitted Darla’s presence at the prisoner exchange while salving the concerns of the child’s opponents. Ardon would stand in as guardian, being near just in case his protective services were needed. But protecting whom? The WastePipe?! Mihai rested her head in her hand, slowly shaking it in sadness.

What of Darla? The woman proved she was tough as nails. Mihai had looked into her eyes when the pronouncement was passed by council vote that she must submit to Ardon’s oversight. She had been pummeled for over twenty minutes, one counselor after another publicly extolling the child’s unstable sickness, which statement was always followed apologetically by ‘through no fault of her own’. Then to be crushed by Mother’s request she promise to respect and obey the council’s decision? How devastating and humiliating!

What made Mihai feel the worst was the fact that Darla stood alone through all those insults, only slipping away after the council was finished with her and had moved on to other business. And Mihai, the new, great and wonderful king? She had not even noticed the girl leaving.

A gentle hand touched Mihai’s shoulder, stirring her from those thoughts. She looked up into Terey’s face, forcing a smile. How old Terey looked - that is, if the people of this world ever looked old. No, it was more like worn and tired, like a weathered tree that has seen too many winters. She sighed, “Well, my Dear, we have survived another one.” Terey smiled oh so lonely, and took to gently massaging one of Mihai’s shoulders. At length, she asked, “Chisamore pulls out tomorrow. I will be leaving by shuttle from Palace City Spaceport in the morning. Will you come to see me off?”

Mihai stared at her, a questioning gaze growing on her face.

Terey answered without being asked, “They are short experienced pilots, so I volunteered to help them out for awhile. After all, I wasn’t needed at the prisoner exchange, me only being here tonight to offer support to you and that new field marshal of yours. Chisamore is an old tub more ready for the bone-yard than a frontline carrier, but it’s the best we’ve got, seeing production’s behind schedule on its replacement. It’s been refitted as best as could be. I don’t think its engines will blow.”

‘How tired she appears, almost pallid.’ Mihai thought as she looked into Terey’s troubled face. Terey needed some rest, a break, but could she survive one? Maybe the woman’s body needed rest, but could her mind take it? No, Mihai doubted it. Better to keep busy than have idle time to think. The mind might take a person to places it rather not be.

Still, Mihai was concerned for Terey’s safety. Chisamore was a relic by any stretch of the imagination, better suited for a museum than for fighting. Originally built as a capital ship, it served valiantly for several decades until being torpedoed with the loss of half its crew during the GrayStone Debacle. It was salvaged from deep space and refitted and then rebuilt into an attack carrier, it remaining on frontline service for over the next three hundred years, until the end of the Great War. Its list of honors included every major engagement of the Fourth Fleet during that time.

‘Wheel within a wheel...’ Mihai grimaced at the thought…last of the Korvikion class carrack, designed for ramming but upgraded to dreadnaught. Four times it had been decommissioned and once written off for scrap. But the endless requirement for ships to patrol their vast empire necessitated the need to revive it. She believed it should have been long gone to the scrap yard, but when Admiral Sujin was commissioner of salvage over the naval depots, all that was brought to a halt. Every ship thereafter that came off line, no matter its condition, was either placed in mothballs, parted out, or refitted and sent back to work in some other capacity.

Mihai questioned Terey’s decision to go on station with Chisamore. “Why that boat? Even with a refit, it’s still a flying deathtrap…was when it was new, more so now.

Why, a modern frigate can outgun it, could turn it into a Roman candle before it could bring its own guns to bear. There are several other carriers in desperate need of qualified pilots. Why Chisamore?”

Terey frowned. “Dear…my dear, you know full well the sacrifice each of us must make to keep this kingdom safe. Is my soul better or more important than the other hundreds who are also sailing on her? They needed a good fighter pilot. My 17 was sitting idle, so I offered to fill in. For life or death is the way I see it.”

Mihai turned to stare at the table, feeling selfish for wanting to keep Terey safe for herself, to satisfy her heart’s needs. Terey and Mihai went way back, the woman having been Mihai’s personal flight instructor in the days of the glider races so many eons ago.

The two were wing mates since the Second Megiddo War, flying in the same squadrons, sharing the same bunks, rations, facing the same dangers. Mihai did not want to lose her dear companion to an accident caused by a piece of flying junk. At long last and in subdued voice she asked Terey, “Where are you headed?” looking back into Terey’s eyes.

Terey stopped massaging Mihai’s shoulder, stepped back and sighed, with effort answering, “Eden’s Gate…”

Mihai saw the pain that crossed Terey’s face. Bitter were the memories from that place. Hundreds or possibly thousands of good, brave, fighter pilots had come to their end protecting that portal. ‘Gateway to the Universe’ it was called in days of peace.

‘Passage from Hell’ was the name often heralded by sailors now, it being constantly in need of protection from an enemy who wanted it desperately and was willing to expend their own thousands to get it. If the children lost Eden’s Gate, they might well lose the Empire. The issue had long been settled by high command. ‘Hold Eden’s Gate at all cost.’

“We…we are to rendezvous with the Fourth Fleet at some undisclosed location.”

Terey frowned again. “You know Admiral Sujin. He’s the one who renamed Chisamore after her last resurrection from the abyss… was the old Argototh, named after the Battle of Argototh Heights on Stargaton…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Why am I telling

you? You were there. Well, anyway, Sujin is all about giving ‘need to know’

commands. He’s a queer duck, always wary, never trusting anyone...the old ‘what the enemy doesn’t know’ thing. Guess I shouldn’t complain, but ever since he was appointed to the chiefs of staff, he’s pushed for all this secrecy. Makes old guard people like me feel shoved out, if you know what I mean.”

Mihai nodded. She knew, yet she had given her final approval to the admiral’s appointment. Gabrielle was adamant about the whole thing, having been Sujin’s mentor and companion for many years and believing he was the right man for the job. In some way, considering how fussy he was concerning doing things just so, Mihai felt a little more secure about Terey’s safety while aboard Chisamore.

Terey sighed again. “Once on station, we will relieve Merimna, transferring some of its fighters to Chisamore. From there, we will patrol parts of the Southern Ring, including Eden’s Gate.”

Mihai stood. She began to gently fuss over Terey’s silky blouse, carefully working the wrinkles out of it. Looking down at her shirt, she quietly crooned so resigned and motherly, “You and PalaHar shouldn’t romance in something like this. It gives you away, you know.” Then staring into her eyes, she asked, “How long will you be gone?”

Terey closed her eyes. Watching the loneliness on Mihai’s face was too troubling.

She opened them to see Mihai’s fathomless blue eyes still fixed on hers. A feeling of guilt swept through her heart as she answered, “Three months…maybe a year,” then shrugged, “You know, it depends on how soon the new carrier is finished.”

The selfish child in Mihai could no longer contain itself, its frustration carried on accusing questions. “Why? Why are you going now?!” Catching the child up, Mihai suppressed her selfish wants, waxing selfless. “You returned from your last patrol only two weeks ago. You need more rest, more time away.” She fussed again, the little girl escaping once more, “I only returned this very day and…and…we’ve been apart eight months now. We’ve…”

Terey put her hand up to silence Mihai, the stress of the moment reflected in her curt reply. “You know full well, dear one. Our people are tiring out. They’re losing their will to fight. Every day, dozens of our best flight crews retire from active duty or request extended leave. And that doesn’t include our rapidly dwindling army. For the grunts it’s even worse, all the privations forced upon them for lack of supplies and the growing indifference of their officers.” She stepped back, shaking a finger in gesture. “If that lady, Trisha, didn’t cast a powerful enough spell over the people tonight, there will soon be no army left to protect this city, let alone this Empire!”

Mihai tried to object.

Terey stopped her. “Don’t misunderstand me, Dear. I have not surrendered to the Darkness yet. Mother will succeed. I have full faith in that fact. But you know her ways allow us to create our own destiny. She will permit us to fail, maybe already has, will provide rescue some other way…maybe already has…to our eternal shame.”

Terey shook her head, echoing remorsefully, “The prophets called us the ‘sons of light’, that we could never fail. They wrote of our presence with hope, writing of us as the ‘warrior guardians of the universe’. What would they think of us now?” Angry, she smashed a fist into an opened hand. “Mihai, we were the rulers of these worlds! Just one of us could strike fear into the hearts of thousands! Look at us now! We need a woman born in the realms of backward ignorance to wipe our noses and dry our eyes! I fear our

brother was right when he accused us of being too weak of mind to see things through.

Look at us! What have we become?!”

Mihai stood, dejected. She knew that Terey was not accusing her for the many failed attempts of her people to bring the Rebellion to a finish. Still, wasn’t she the warden of war, for nearly two millenium deciding how the game was to be played, and always falling to the wiles of her adversary? As Euroaquilo had earlier stated, even in defeat, Asotos managed to come out winner. Returning to the moment, Mihai forced a smile as she caressed Terey’s arm. “I will be there to see you off on the morrow. I promise.”

“Well, hello!” Mihai and Terey turned to see Paul and Symeon ambling up, offering cheerful and congenial greetings. The two had been patiently waiting and had become tired of pretending to be studying some maps and drawings scattered upon the council tables. At length, at Symeon’s prodding, they made their polite intrusions. Seeing the men’s attention was focused on Mihai, Terey quickly excused herself, feigning need to finish preparing for her early departure, first kissing Mihai ever so sweetly and then doing so with Paul and Symeon, but much more formally.

Mihai was tired, more so weary, the night having taken a toll on her constitution.

Pushing that aside, she entertained some time with the men, they being eager to discuss earlier events and, of course as always, having many questions. Besides that, she was beginning to feel a lonely melancholy enveloping her spirit. The thought of Terey’s leaving hurt more than expected. Smiling, Mihai tenderly kissed her two closest of companions. “Please, I’m sure this night has provided you with many more questions than answers.”

Paul and Symeon waited for no additional invitation to begin. They pummeled her with one question after another, Symeon taking the lead. This was the first time either man had witnessed Lowenah’s grand council and both were excited over it. What was surprising was not the men’s excitement, but what they were excited about.

For the children of these realms, Trisha’s visions and rousing speech were troubling, offensive, and/or profound. To Paul and Symeon, it all was little more than expected, the children from the Realms Below long anticipating those very prophecies fulfilled. Mihai was hammered with questions concerning the leading members of the council, who they were and some of their history. They wanted to know more about the prisoner exchange, what was to be expected of them, how they were to act, what the enemy might do.

Mihai was forced to repeatedly slow them down, attempting to answer all their questions one at a time. What else could she do? These were not foolish chatterers. The men had legitimate questions that needed answering. Mihai began to ponder if waiting so long to deliver her two close friends to these realms had been such a good idea. Ma-we waited until only four winter seasons ago to deliver Paul here, Symeon a year later, she saying they would serve her purpose to keep them bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for coming events. Well, maybe they were a little too bright-eyed for the coming prisoner exchange.

In time, after answering a couple of questions twice and being asked others that made little sense, Mihai began to conclude there were subjects these men wanted to broach, but feared doing so. Although tired, Mihai patiently waited upon the moment.

When they were ready, it was Symeon who betrayed himself first. His fidgeting only increased to the point of nuisance. Finally, stopping Mihai in mid-sentence, he

stammered, “You know…well…ah…you know…well, in all these years…you know, I’ve never seen him.”

Confused, Mihai asked, “Who?”

Sheepishly, Symeon began, hesitated, embarrassed and began again. “Ah, well…”

Then rubbing his hands in self-consciousness, “The Snake… You know, the Serpent.

You know, Satan, your brother.”

This was the one question Mihai should have expected but was the least prepared for.

Swallowing bile and attempting to ignore a sudden nauseous feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, she stepped back, resting her hand on a chair.

Symeon and Paul both apologized for their rudeness. Mihai motioned them innocent, indicating they wait until she caught her breath. After all, it was not their fault.

Long ago she had been warned that as mentor she would be called upon to reveal all the secrets of this universe to her former companions from the Lower Realms. She owed it to them. Besides, if these newcomers were expected to stand the line facing such an insidious foe at this prisoner exchange, they needed to be prepared for it. Now was as good a time as any to introduce the matter.

Taking another breath eased her stressful stomach. At length, she began, “There are things…things you want to learn if you are to be successful in the coming days. We do not often use titles like ‘Snake’, ‘Serpent’, ‘Devil’, ‘Satan’, and so forth to describe the Wicked One. They are only words that partially describe him anyway. In our language, for that matter in any language, there are no terms that can accurately portray the evil man he is. In fact, there are those among us who curse with an oath when his name is mentioned. The injuries he has delivered upon his brothers and sisters, and especially Mother, are so deep and the pain so great… Well, I hope you can understand.

“I will tell you the truth, but you must remember not to speak aloud to others what I say now, other than this: The name for this man is no longer spoken by my people and, since the Rebellion, he has come to have an open disdain for it. Around Mother, we use the term ‘Adelphos’, meaning ‘brother’, when forced to mention him. It helps to soften the blow to her heart. Mother speaks not of it, but her heart still aches over the loss.”

This was truly noteworthy information, making Paul’s and Symeon’s ears tingle.

Mihai reminded them of their promise to remain silent and then continued, “The name you will hear his fellow conspirators address him with is ‘Theshileo’, or ‘Alithea’, their root meaning coming from your common tongue ‘AletheuoPhileO’ meaning ‘The tender Father who is faithful and true’. We will not honor him in any such way, using only

‘Adelphos’ when we do have to address him. It eases Mother’s heart to have it so, and it is a truthful title, he having once been our brother…and in the flesh still is.”

She wagged a finger in warning. “The rest of what I am to reveal you must not speak aloud in the company of any, other than, say your closest and most trusted companions. Should your tongue slip at the prisoner exchange, not only will you trouble Mother’s heart, but you may well bring the wrath of the Evil One down upon us, threatening the very souls we seek to rescue.

“You have heard some of the children use the name ‘Asotos’ when referring to the man. It is the name given to him by Mother’s faithful house, meaning ‘the one who lays waste by riotous living’, from the root words ‘wastepipe’ or ‘sewer pipe’. He is well aware of its use, hates it so much that it is unlawful for his people to speak the word

‘waste’ aloud upon pain of death. It will be wise to remember my warnings should you

have need to address him at the exchange, though I doubt the arrogant fool will trouble you with his attention.”

Symeon asked, “So should he trouble us, how do we address him?”

“As I have said...” Mihai pointed a finger at Symeon, “‘Adelphos’, nothing more, nothing less! He is our brother by blood. Show honor for that blood, for it is our Mother’s blood that flows in him. Show honor to her.”

Pondering Mihai’s answer, Symeon rubbed his bearded chin. “I can only see ugly evil, a deformed, twisted monster.” He looked at Mihai, asking, “How does your kind manage…I mean, how do you manage to speak in such affectionate terms?”

That question troubled Mihai. She wanted to scream out her deep revulsion for the man, the woman having more hatred for Asotos than most. With considerable effort, she forced those feelings aside, hiding from Paul and Symeon her emotional struggle.

Looking into their faces, she realized they needed to be given understanding into how this world thought and reasoned.

“Please…” Mihai requested, “be patient with me and I will give you understanding and wisdom. You have not yet the age of the rings of a very small tree, but you make judgments as with tongues of men borne along by the ages. Let me remind you of the facts.”

She spread her fingers, touching her heart. “In this world, I am considered little more than a child, there still being those sitting the council wondering why such a new birthling be given such undue power and glory. Yet I...I walked the haunted worlds of distant star systems long before your home of old was little more than a burning mass of boiling fire. In my own time, I have seen the mountains rise to new heights between Palace City and Oros to the east.

“Lord Ardon, I must tell you…Lord Ardon remembers when there existed no mountains there at all, but a huge, freshwater sea that lapped at shores no more than a day’s walk from the city’s eastern wall. He has also told me of the time in his youth when a jungle filled all the area of the inner wall, with only this palace butte existing within the ocean of green.”

Mihai frowned, resting her tired weight upon the table. “Asotos…Adelphos remembers far more. Through our dream shares, I have seen the massive translucent dome that once covered this castle enclosure. Indeed, I have see all seven of the crystal cities that once covered this plain, each with an equally impressive wall system, each designed for reasons of life experiments, bringing new life into existence on this planet, all of it built by the hands of the Ones Who Came Before. All that…the domes and scientific activity…were gone by the time of other Ancients, the mysterious Tolohe remembering but little of the previous days of glory.”

Symeon blurted out, “But you say you saw those things!”

Mihai nodded. “I said I saw them through my dream shares with Asotos.”

The consternation showing on Paul’s and Symeon’s faces forced Mihai to explain.

“Yes…and you must remember the ways of my people. I have also shared Asotos’ bed.

For many years I did, as have all my sisters other than Darla. He was our lord, our mentor, the giver of the Dream of Dreams. That is how he could take control of our souls…that is, until the Darkness took him. Burned to ashes are his powers of lovemaking, though a few refuse to believe it down to this day. It is through what you call ‘intercourse’ that the dream share is fulfilled, as you have already come to witness.”

Symeon blushed. Paul said nothing, staring down at the floor.

Mihai fussed, “Grow up, you two! I have shared the bed with the both of you and given many pleasant dreams to you. Did I not promise such a thing long ago when I spoke of drinking wine anew in this very realm? Well, Asotos’ powers were far, far greater than mine. He could transport a woman as though in body to any place in the universe his mind might conjure. And, as a child, his ward, he showed his glory to me, I seeing through his eyes the world as it was in his youth.”

She swept her arm in gesture. “From wall to wall, a great dome of radiant hues shielded this place from the surrounding world. Asotos remembered giant man-things heaving on cables and cranking huge wheels, delivering the sea monster up to its watery home. Yes, the very seas once lapped upon this mountain butte. Here was the home of many living creatures, Asotos having been witness to much of it. How long he has lived is secret to all other than himself and Mother, and neither has ever revealed his age.”

“Asotos…Adelphos was…still is the greatest and most knowledgeable of all our wizards or scientists. He assisted in the creation of life on your old planet, directed most of it. The major varieties of life existing in your world of old came from his fertile mind.

He was given a free hand with few restrictions regarding how things were to be...carbon-based life being one of those things. Mother had her reasons at the time. He even had limited access to the Web of the Minds.” She pointed at her head, “…the reason for Darla’s and my sickness. It is a power he has long lost.

“It was told me that he personally designed the body and soul of your first ancestor, the man called ‘Adam’, making him in his own likeness and personality. It was said that he even wove his own DNA…” Seeing the confusion on the men’s faces, Mihai added,

“blood, it’s like blood, in the blood. He created a man-son in his own image, an exact likeness of himself in Adam. That is why no hope exists for that man, for his heart rebelled in like nature to that of Asotos, forever cutting himself off from the power of the Web of the Minds.”

Both Paul and Symeon responded together, nearly shouting, “That’s impossible!”

Mihai’s bitter laugh was chiding. “You are fools to not believe me! Yes, that’s right. You, yourselves, are sons of the Devil. The blood of the Great Satan flows in your veins. And if it wasn’t for the wisdom of Mother, there would be no hope for all your kind, because the nature of his wickedness in an imperfect body would lead any man to damnation. So many of the things you call impossible are so commonplace for my kind.

Your obstinate refusal to accept that all things are possible with God, and nearly so with our kind, has led your kind down the path of manipulated calamity several times.”

Paul attempted to argue, but Mihai cut him short. “My friend, I love you…loved you so much that I risked losing you when I revealed my true nature to you on that desert road many years ago. You believed in me, but never once wrote or spoke of the matter to anyone…even Symeon here…or your close friend, John. Why? I will tell you why.

You were afraid…afraid of being totally discredited among your peers, possibly being stoned by the very ones you had shared in converting to believing in me. If I sent you in fire and glory this very day to my people on your home planet to declare to them the truth about me, who would listen and not ridicule you, or even accuse you of blasphemy and say you were sent from Beelzebub?

“Now let me tell you this, so that you both will have a little understanding and appreciation for my mother, your God. Mother did not allow Asotos permission to

design your ancestress, the woman Mother named ‘MihaiAstron’ after me…a name I acquired long ago in the days of peace. JabethHull bestowed that name upon me in one of his rare, affectionate moments. It is a name I have cherished down to this day. In my exact likeness, using my own blood, you might say, Mother created that woman, using only a small portion of Asotos’ nature in the woman’s making, taking the rib from his invention to build only the woman’s physical structure. That is why there still rests hope for her future days, my blood being so strong within her.”

Mihai wagged her finger again. “And that is why there exists any hope at all for your kind. My blood flows in all the bodies of all men, some to a greater or lesser extent than others. It is by the blood of the Wicked One that all men are condemned and by the blood of your sister, here…” she pointed at herself, “that all mankind is saved. Now you see the need for me to have made a personal appearance upon your planet so long ago. I needed to lay legal claim to that right to activate my blood’s saving power. Had Asotos had his way, only his blood would have been found in both your father and mother, thus, through its corruptive energy, all mankind would have dissolved into the same hopeless evil manifest by that snake.”

Mihai returned to the moment. “I have wandered from the path. Listen, please, and learn. Do not underestimate the abilities of this fallen hero! His special might is still greater more so than most, possibly all. I do not know. His mind is dangerously powerful, enough so that what appear to be minor, winsome comments can get inside your head, taking control and manipulating your thoughts. And he has other powers of mind and spirit control that are still beyond any of his siblings. Mother made the man very strong in mind and soul.” She reached out, taking hold of Symeon’s arm, warning,

“Do not! I repeat, do not attempt a coup on this man! Few have survived unscathed while doing so.”

The visible pain that raced across Mihai’s face gave pause to both men. Paul especially felt guilty for bringing up the subject in the first place, he telling Mihai so.

She waved him off. “This you needed to know. It would have been such a disservice on my part to not have warned you. You did nothing wrong. Tomorrow, when I am rested, will be sufficient to discuss further with you these important matters.”

“Well, well, how are my little darlings this morning? It is morning, you know, bedtime for my babies.” Ma-we’s voice startled Mihai and the others, she having silently approached while the three were deep in conversation.

“May I join this pleasant company?” Without asking, she crowded in, wrapping her hands around Mihai’s arm. Looking into her daughter’s weary face, she cooed, “My dear, I do feel you need some good company this evening. I suggest you not forget to take my boy, Paul, with you when taking this morning’s leave. It is so good for the soul, you know.”

Mihai smiled weakly but, before she could reply, Paul spoke up. “Mihai has been pummeled with our questions concerning the prisoner exchange and…and other related subjects important for us to know. I believe we have worn out our welcome. She may well not abide any more company.” Symeon nodded in agreement.

“Nonsense!” Ma-we then addressed Mihai, telling the others not to leave. “I have some important business to attend to in other parts of my kingdom and shall be on leave for several days. Tell no one of my absence. I will certainly be returned before our

departure for EremiaPikros. Now, I want you to care for things while I’m away, seeing that you have taken over the chambers of the Firstborn…or so I’ve been informed.”

Mihai said that it was so.

Squeezing her daughter’s arm, Ma-we smiled, “All the necessary locks have been reset to accommodate your entrance…and this fellow’s here.” She pointed toward Paul.

“I have left the place a mess.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Been so busy, I have.

It’s in need of a good cleaning, has been for some time. It would be nice if you two would tidy it up a bit.” She grinned. “Who knows what treasures one might find lost in such a mess.”

She turned to Paul, warning, her eyes still a’ twinkle, “This little lady should not be expected to do all the work herself. After all, if you expect her pleasure in bed, she should expect your elbow grease in the kitchen.”

Paul’s face flushed red. Symeon laughed.

Ma-we went on, putting on an oh so serious face. “Be a good dear, please. I so much need to hear a good report about this when I return.”

At first, Paul was taken aback until he observed the twinkle in Ma-we’s eyes. He smiled, offering a slight bow of his head. “I shall do all you wish, my Lord, and more should this beautiful lady only ask me.” Then he waxed poetic. “Shall she seek a star from the heavens or a jewel from the oceans deep, it would be as asking for but a drink of water for my soul to seek it for her.”

Ma-we laughed, pointing at him. “Be careful, for what you offer may well be taken up by her on a whim. She does have a selfish streak in her, you know.”

Mihai fussed at her mother’s comments.

Ma-we laughed again. “Please help my girl with her move into the palace. Do take the time to run some errands for her. It will help you learn the city better. And…” she glanced back at Mihai, “help her with her bath, please. The girl has such a hard time getting all those spots that need scrubbing. We want our child all bubbly clean now, don’t we?”

Embarrassed, Paul promised he would, Symeon grinning from ear to ear.

Ma-we turned her attention to Symeon. “You… I want a word with you…in private!”

Symeon was shocked and concerned. Ma-we’s countenance was grave, her voice so serious.

As she took Symeon’s arm, Ma-we ordered Mihai and Paul, “You two stay here. I may need you soon. I’m sure you can find some meaningful conversation to occupy your time.”

It was so difficult for either Mihai or Paul to concentrate, what with Ma-we and Symeon only a few paces away, and Ma-we acting so serious. It was easy to see the expressions on Symeon’s face…first those of serious concern, then curiosity, then deep sadness, when suddenly it exploded in an astonished grin. Symeon whooped with glee, doing a little dance of excitement. He hurriedly started for them, but Ma-we’s strong arm stopped him, she whispering something in his ear.

Then, slowly and deliberately, the two returned to the curious couple who were eager to hear the latest gossip. Symeon was beside himself with anxious desire to reveal all he knew, but Ma-we would have none of that. She was a master of suspense and savored the excitement of the secret as much as the revealing.

Eventually, holding Symeon’s hand as if in comfort, she explained, “I’m sorry my dears, but your friend will not be journeying with us to the prisoner exchange. I have great need of his services elsewhere. This will certainly be a loss to all of us, but there was nothing else for it. And…and, I’m sure it will be a disappointment for Symeon as well.” She reached out and took Mihai’s hand, speaking so consolingly. “You will just have to find a way to do without him.”

That was it. Symeon could contain himself no longer. He blurted out, “I can’t go…

because…because…” he let out a joyful cry, “because she’s coming! My little girl, my daughter child is coming, coming back to us, here! Soon! Here!”

Symeon began to laugh and sob at the same time. He bent his head as his hands came up to his face, crying tears of joy.

Ma-we hugged him around his waist, nodding while wearing her motherly smile. “I think my boy has had a full night. He needs some well-deserved rest. I’ll see him home.”

As they were leaving, Ma-we turned back to Mihai and Paul. “Life should never be taken for granted. Even forever is never long enough to do everything one wishes. Don’t waste your life chasing impossible dreams. Take what is yours for the moment and drink it to the full.” With that, she led Symeon to the door, exiting the chambers.

“What did Lowenah mean by her words?” Paul asked, while taking Mihai’s arm.

Mihai sighed with tired satisfaction, smiling. “Sometimes even we children forget the value of gifts we possess while we search the shadows for others that are uncertain.

Life is not to be measured by what we might accomplish tomorrow, for tomorrow is not guaranteed, but full of uncertainties. No, joy comes to those who understand the treasure that exists within our grasp while life still courses through our souls, while it remains ours to possess.” She looked into Paul’s eyes. “My Lord, master of my dreams, will you please take your servant girl home?”

Paul nodded, smiling. With that, the two journeyed up the stairs to the upper deck and through the doors leading to the outer balcony. Stepping into the cool freshness of early morning, Mihai watched the gray of that early morning battling with the blackness of night. For some time, the two stood there, silently watching the distant warring.

At length, Mihai asked, “Has my Lord ever seen the sunrise from the battlements of the eastern tower on the outer wall?”

Paul looked into Mihai’s face, saying not a word, his eyes seeking her lead. The two stood motionless for some time, appearing as silhouettes painted upon a darkened screen.

Finally, still gripping his hand, Mihai motioned their leave, whispering, “The cooing of the morning dove is so sweet from those towers, Love, its scent like that of lotus blossoms.”

They walked down the stairs into the darkness of the night, disappearing into the courtyards far below.

(Author’s Note : I have gleaned this information from the thesis, The Glitter of Gold, written by Queen Adaya near the beginning of the Fourth Age of this universe. It reveals some little known facts about one of Lowenah’s chief counselors.

“Ardon was one of the oldest of the children, growing up at the time when the Upper Palace was the only structure in the universe. When he was a child, he would busy

himself playing in and exploring the thick jungle growth surrounding the palace. He had also journeyed deep into the tunnels under the butte, sometimes being gone for days at a time. It was from those explorations in the tunnels that he had developed an insatiable desire to explore rock formations, especially crystalline and mineral. When the knowledge of space travel had been sufficiently developed, he was one of the first children to abandon his home planet and reach out to find secrets in the stars. He would disappear for centuries at times, squirreling himself away in some mountainous planet, deep underground, studying its different rock formations. In fact, when the Rebellion started, he had been busy examining strange crystals found in the depths of an obscure planet in the outer reaches of the Trizentine. When news reached him, he had rushed home.

The details of events leading up to the Rebellion devastated him. He discovered few of the oldest children had remained loyal to Lowenah. As time passed, the number of those abandoning her increased. Ardon had immediately joined himself to Lowenah, offering to provide whatever support he could to her. He became the only former counselor to his older brother who had not joined in the Rebellion. Ardon’s laboratory had never been revisited and, to the best of his knowledge, it lay quietly undisturbed, awaiting his return.

Lowenah eventually made Ardon one of her personal counselors. She took advantage of his slow, deliberate ponderings when complex and difficult situations arose.

He was meticulous in thought, always trying to examine every minute detail. It was the way he reasoned that caused him to dislike riddles. He found himself constantly over-thinking their context, something that made him the brunt of more than one joke.

Someone would ask a trick question and Ardon’s response was often some wildly long dissertation totally unrelated to the answer. They would allow him to go on and on with his reply. All the while, smiles of fellow conspirators were growing bigger and bigger.

Only when he had finished was he made privy to the way he had been set up, much to the delight of the others. Nevertheless, it was difficult for Ardon to see humor in things he spoke about, always being so serious concerning such things.

Ardon’s slow and deliberate thinking often caused him to miss the point when a quick decision was needed. Once Lowenah had jokingly said to him, after he had laboriously plodded his way through one of his obvious solutions that, now having received his input, she at least knew the direction not to proceed in. This wasn’t always true. For example, the recommendation he once offered, to confuse the counsel given to a certain king of the Second Realm in order to bring him to defeat, had been accepted and had proved quite successful. Having managed such a success once, though, did not diminish his oft-deserved reputation.

He also hated riddles because his mind did not grasp the mathematics of how they worked. To him, riddles were like long detours on the journey to finding the correct answer. When his mind was focused on a subject, it consumed his thoughts. Anything that obstructed his desired goal was, at best, a nuisance, something to be labored through in order to achieve that goal.

On the other hand, Lowenah and most of her children enjoyed riddling. They were happy to spend many hours idling away the time, playing riddling games. This was so deeply ingrained in their minds that most of them thought in riddles all the time. Because Ardon did not think this way, Lowenah found his views and observations strikingly

different from many of the others, offering glimpses into things from excitingly new perspectives.

Ardon did have some outstandingly useful qualities, too. His natural ability to observe and scrutinize the slightest of details was not focused only on his study of rocks.

When he applied his skills to people, he could often discover what was hidden deep in a person’s mind and heart. His eyes and ears were always alert to many subtle changes of voice inflection and body language of people being observed. From their posture, eye movements, speech patterns and even the way they breathed, Ardon recorded each detail in his mind. He would later review information to develop a profile of the inner person of the one being observed. Such insightfulness often helped him draw correct conclusions of someone’s future actions.

The way he revealed his insight was also one of his assets. Ardon had no way of expressing himself other than to be open, up front and honest. His candor frequently bordered on being blunt, finesse being one of his unlearned arts. He was also willing to offer his observations publicly, without being requested. Although this did cause some disquiet, Lowenah found it extremely useful. It gave her a colorful insight into people in ways that even she sometimes overlooked.

These qualities, along with an inexhaustible desire to gather details, coupled with unlimited patience needed to accomplish his task, made Ardon the person of choice when complex issues arose. He was willing to spend the necessary time and effort to gather all the required information that would provide him with a correct answer. Then, with precise words and well-defined and logical reasoning, he would explain his findings to interested parties. It was only on rare occasion that Ardon would find himself at a loss to understand an issue when he had made it a subject of investigation. This was also true of the people he chose to study. Few could remain a mystery to him, and it deeply disturbed the man when that did happen.”

SirionSandevar’s Letters in Defense of Love, written not long into the King’s War, discloses the earlier history of Terey and her role played in the making of an empire.

“During the First Age, the Age of Peace, Terey had busied herself in the study of language. Although only one language was spoken among all the children, the original vocabulary was basic and limited. As need arose, people would coin words to describe new things. This method worked fine while all the children lived in reasonable proximity to each other. When exploration among the stars became commonplace and colonies grew in number at distant locations, people could be isolated from their mother planet for hundreds or even thousands of years. Over time, each colony might develop a myriad of different words for their local vocabulary. Not only this, but words tend to acquire altered meanings. Although two people from separate locations would speak the same language, the meanings of the words might be totally different. Terey took it upon herself to deal with the problem.

For thousands of years, Terey traveled to all the major colonies and many smaller ones. Over the course of time, she recorded a massive encyclopedic dictionary of words and their meanings as understood in various parts of our worlds. Through exhaustive effort, she developed what came to be known as the ‘universal tongue’. She defined word

segments and root word concepts, explaining their meanings and uses in all aspects of written and spoken language.

Terey redefined the common theory of speech, placing more importance on using a series of root segments to invent a new word than creating a new word by itself. She undertook the task of designing a simple alphabet so that a few letters could replace the many hundreds of characters used in standard writing. This contributed to the mass printing of literature, thus creating quick and easy access to all varieties of written material, including Terey’s. Her printed volumes on language became the foundation for all official and scientific writing.

After the attack on Mihai, Terey went into a serious depression. Her nervous disorder made her physically sick, something at that time unheard of. Eventually the depression subsided, but physical sickness continued to dog her. She remained sensitive to many foods and her hands would often tremble. Persons thinking this weakened her ability to fight often paid a high price for such foolishness. She was a cunning strategist.

Terey also had a constitution of iron and her sickness did not slow her down. In fact, she was one of the best fighter pilots in the entire Navy. During the Great War, she had flown as Mihai’s wingman on several occasions. Only outstanding pilots were able fly with Mihai’s squadron because they flew a TKR-17, commonly called by other pilots the

‘dancing corkscrew’. An upgraded design of the TKR-14, it was a difficult craft to fly and inexperienced pilots were afraid of it. But, in the hands of a highly skilled person, it was one of the deadliest ships ever built.”

This explanation of the fighters used during the King’s war is taken from Copeland and Garlock’s, The King’s War: A History.

“When exercising routine fighting maneuvers, the TKR-14, the standard attack fighter, needed to be manually operated, thus requiring the pilot’s complete concentration to maneuver the craft. The pilot’s hands rested on right and left spherical control pads. Each pad contained identical command inputs, except being mirror image in design, thus the same fingers on the different hands executed identical functions. The hands did not have to move, because the impulse of the neurological charges racing from the brain initiated the response of the plane. The pilot needed to remain focused on handling the ship to avoid sending mixed signals to the controls. For this reason, a safety feature had been included in the 14. If a pilot did lose control when in manual mode and flying became erratic, the quickest way to stabilize the ship was to lift his or her hands off the pads. This done, the plane would automatically correct itself. In doing so, it would slow down until the pilot again assumed command of the helm. In a dogfight, though, when the enemy was constantly seeking to get a lock on their opponent, such a move could get a person killed.

The TKR-17 was designed directly off the TKR-14. The two planes looked similar, starting with a long, sleek, pointed nose, tapering back into a rakish, long, tubular body, with small tail side-fins and one vertical stabilizer. Below the bubbled pilot’s cockpit, midway down the ship’s sides, were two small, lateral wings. The wings enabled the craft to utilize the atmosphere of a planet when flying in sub-space. They also served as cooling radiators for the engines which were located in the lower midsection of the fuselage. The primary thrust of the rockets was rearward, but the fighter could move in

every other possible direction, even backwards. That is where similarities of the 14 and 17 ended.

Fighter craft evolved slowly. The first true fighters were seen about thirty-five centuries earlier. By current standards, they were slow and awkward. It had been difficult to convince pilots who flew them to upgrade to better equipment. Most people do not like change, and the fighter pilots were no exception. Many of them had flown the earliest of the ships and had been reluctant to modify what they were used to. The TKR

series had been first designed well over a millennia ago, and the model 14A was already a little over a century old when the Great War started. Yet it was still the primary attack weapon of the Navy.

When Mihai started setting up combat commands prior to the Great War, she felt the need to have a better plane than the 14. Changing the physical structure of the current fighter would be expensive and time-consuming, because most of the Navy’s carriers were designed for optimum space, using the TKR-14 as their primary attack support machine. Time was something Mihai did not have.

The prerequisite physical shape of the new plane was already set. Mihai and her design team, which Terey was part of, chose to confine the changes within the framework of the 14. Two prototypes followed that were eventually produced, but were only special adaptations of the 14 called the ‘TKR-15’ and ‘16’, and only a few were built. After a disappointing start, the team chose to scrap everything about the 14 except the exterior structure, which was outstandingly well designed. The control system, armaments, engines, computer system, even the cockpit were brand-new in concept.

Two of the most noticeable changes were visible. The pilot’s cabin was moved three feet forward, primarily to make room for the additional size of the engines, but also for better visuals. Second, to meet the desired acceleration increase, the twin engines had been made proportionately larger than the 14’s. To properly install them, the belly of the new plane was expanded, creating two slightly bulbous extrusions on the lower right and left sides. The remainder of the changes were unseen, yet were the most evident in combat.

The TKR-17 not only mounted laser cannons and energy burst, rapid-fire guns, along with racks for exterior ordnance, it also had two solid projectile, forward-fixed cannons. High-speed attack ships rarely mounted solid projectile guns, for it was all too easy for the pilot to fly into his or her own fire. Mihai’s team accepted that risk because of the armor-busting effect solid projectiles had over energy blasts.

There was another reason the solid projectiles were desirable. Counter energy beams and fields had been developed that could often neutralize laser, plasma and other energy weapons. This was one reason the sword was still a standard weapon of the infantry; energy side arms might be disabled. Solid projectile guns still used mechanical mechanisms for operation and dry chemical reactions to create energy to propel the bullets, all of which were unaffected by the counter-energy fields.

The other outstanding feature of the 17 was the way it was flown. Hand controls were of similar design to the 14, but had a more sensitive reaction to the neurological impulses contacting them. Located in the pilot’s helmet were probes connected directly to the main computer. These probes would do continual brain scans of the pilot, and then it would respond to the scanned signals. The artificial intelligence level of the computer was almost equal to the pilot’s intelligence in certain respects. It would even react to the

different emotional signals the brain would transmit. An almost symbiotic relationship often developed between a pilot and plane, causing the ship to take on the personality characteristics of the pilot. This was one of the reasons that during the Great War the enemy knew when Mihai had joined the fight. For those able to master the needed thought processes to properly operate the 17, the plane became a beautiful and deadly weapon. But for those unable to do so, it could become their coffin.

Land-based fighter units were later provided with a modified version of the 17, but with controls similar to the 14. These ships were designated ‘TKR-14G’. The greater weight and increased fuel needs limited their use with the Navy. Later, more compact engines were designed with similar power and acceleration of the 17. These and other improvements were incorporated into the 14, the new model being designated ‘ TKR-14H’. By the time of the latest council, it had become the standard Navy fighter.”

This material, taken from the periodical, Ottawa, reveals some interesting details about Terey during the time of events being discussed by the author of this book, it being written shortly after these events occurred. Excerpts are herein quoted.

- “Terey’s skills and courage had been demonstrated on many occasions. During the Great War, she was engaged in every major battle involving the main fleet, often returning to the war while still nursing injuries received in previous encounters. Two of her planes were shot out of the skies, and many times she had brought others home, crippled. If a person flew in Mihai’s squadron, they expected such danger. Captains like Terey fought with the same desperation as their commander in trying to beat the enemy down and drive it out of the Empire. There had been no other squadron that was more often engaged in battle or suffered heavier losses than Mihai’s. Yet it was that determined desperation displayed by so many that finally forced the enemy out and won the war.

The skills of a statesman and counselor were not lost on Terey. She manifested outstanding insight into political, social and military matters. In the early days of the Rebellion, her wisdom was sought from governors and princes. Her voice helped to persuade many who were indecisive to remain loyal to Lowenah. Eventually she became a permanent member of Lowenah’s council. Officially, Terey was still a member of that council, but upon Mihai’s request for assistance, Terey had joined her council and had remained there since.”

-“She sat there, silently contemplating the outcome of changing events. Showing no outward emotion, her smoky, blue-grey eyes revealed a fiery concern burning deeply within her. In Terey’s mind, events of the past and present were one and the same, a continuum of only one much larger event conceived thousands of years before whose labor pains were not yet completed. She saw a universe soaked in blood, rivers overflowing and seas flooding from it, with no end in sight. A new round of slaughter was about to begin. The crown Mihai was wearing had sealed their fate. Asotos’ jealous outrage would explode against all living things when he found out, and Terey knew it.

Thousands of years had passed now, but the memory was still crystal clear. When her rebel brother learned that Mihai received power over the peoples as a chief steward, he reached out to destroy those of the Second Realm who followed her. Failing that, he

influenced those same people to deify and worship her, hoping Mihai would destroy them, herself. Again failing, he raised up another group of worshipers who reveled in holy war. For nearly a thousand years, the Second Realm ran red with the blood of destruction. But he had failed to understand the spirit of these creatures possessing the Realm Below. Even a polluted worship of the real God made them stronger than people who worshipped a make-believe one. Eventually, in the name of their deified messiah, they crushed his grand army of followers, forcing them to flee into the cracks and crevices of the planet to hide, awaiting the day when he would awaken them to again unleash a reign of terror upon the planet.

The victors of these wars lifted high the cross of battle and proceeded to plunder the planet in the name of their god. They eventually returned the breath of life to an ancient beast by restoring its heart to it. The last ruler over that beast had seen its demise coming, and he had created a great religion to preserve its heart alive. While others concluded that it had died, the men in the sacred cathedrals knew better. They were only waiting for the right leader, to give it to a man who would continue to recognize their power and greatness. Eventually one came. They made him king and declared a kingdom of a thousand years had started. But their revelry did not last.

In their newfound power and glory, these people finally crushed the infidels. Shortly thereafter, their grand kingdom fell apart. The Great Rebel tried to destroy them from within by raising up differing sects inside the kingdom. Again, the world ran red with the blood of innocent people. After generations of murder, one kingdom succeeded in wresting the heart of the old beast away from the others. It used that heart to gain control and expand its influence across the planet. When one of its former estates rebelled against it, war erupted between them. When that war ended, there were now two powers sharing the same heart. Down to the day of this council, it had remained the same.”

- “And what about her own part during all this time? Terey thought about the many battles and skirmishes she had survived. Wreckage from countless engagements lay scattered across the galaxy. Many lovers and companions were gone now. People she had shared lifetimes with had become crumbling piles of bones moldering on some desert planet, or had been blasted to dust in cosmic conflagrations.

Most of these battles were defensive actions, done to prevent the Rebellion from progressing too fast, too soon. They fought the enemy for the sake of a timetable, to prevent things from happening too quickly. It wasn’t until the Great War that they had gone on the offensive, and more had perished in that war than all the others combined.

It, too, had only been one more step in the grand picture. The period of time between then and now was only for rest, a breather until the next storm, but they had rested too long. She could now see the storm brewing. Lowenah had waited for her children as long as possible, could wait no longer, and was preparing to hold up the bait to draw Terey’s rebel brother out. He would react quickly to crush it with all his military strength. Terey could see that her people were not prepared for the fight to come. She now also realized that her brother was going to strike first…”

* * *

Section Three

Legend’s Heroes

A happy, crackling fire spewed forth a shower of golden sparks as a hickory log erupted in a blaze of light. Shadows danced to and fro across rough-hewn timber walls leaving much of the room hidden in darkness. The fire was warm and the building sound, creating a comfortable, cozy feeling that all was well even though winter winds should blow. And blow they did.

Driving snow pelted the tiny windows as howling winds battered the door in its angry fury. Yet, for the lone figure slowly rocking back and forth before the glowing hearth, all was at peace, the snapping and popping of a roaring fire and the ‘creak- creak’

of the old wicker chair the only melody falling on the person’s ears.

Hidden within the shadows, two emerald-green eyes peered deeply into the burning light, a sweet, gentle tune hummed by half-closed lips…

“No hurry… No hurry…

Let the night winds cry.

No hurry... No hurry...

For tonight brings on a happy sigh.”

Hands relaxed on the chair’s gnarly arms, fingers curled over and around its knobby ends. Naked feet resting on the hard, oaken floor would slowly push down, sending the person in the chair back into the shadows until, tired of the struggle, they would surrender to the moment, sending chair and rider up into the firelight. Back and forth, back and forth, the musical creaking of the chair blended in melodious harmony with the little humming tune.

“No hurry… No hurry…

The night is young.

No hurry...”

The mellow light of the musical fire revealed a tiny, brown furry creature scurrying across the floor in search of fallen crumbs, also being rewarded with small pieces of cheese scattered among the morsels. Eyes closed as a contented smile grew across the face of the oh so untidy person listening in the shadows. Moments of peace such as this had been all too rare over many centuries. It felt good to have the antics of this little mouse be the biggest intrusion into their cozy dream-world.

In the middle of a bite, the mouse froze. Then, still holding tight its treasure of well-aged cheese, it sniffed the air as if searching for an answer to a disturbance in the cabin’s restful ambiance. For a heartbeat, the creaking of the chair ceased, the person also hearing the harmonic shift in the winter stormwinds. All so soon, the chair began its music again, the shadowed figure displaying no concern. But the furry little creature hurried away, holding fast its trophy of the night. Something approached, its power

great, and the little fellow wished not to be found in such an open, conspicuous place no matter how inviting the banquet.

Above the unyielding pitch of the blizzard, distinct sounds of hard-soled boots on tired, wooden stair treads echoed across the room. The one seated in the rocker appeared to pay no notice, and continued rocking to the little tune being hummed.

“No hurry… No worry now…

The night is young…

The night is very young…”

The heavy iron door handle began its mournful cry as rusty tumblers resisted being awakened by a determined hand seeking the latch’s surrender, allowing the hidden power escape from the fury of the storm. ‘Sha… clack! ’ The ancient bolt broke free of its rusty prison, surrendering up the door to the whims of the night. With glee, the winter winds pummeled the door, seeking to breech the walls of the one unconquered fortress in this vast, desolate world.

Exerting great effort, a hand held fast the tempest, engaging in a contest for the gate.

A struggle ensued, the winds beating relentlessly against flesh and wood, seeking to best the lone sentinel refusing it entry. At length, the battle ended, the warrior taking control of the pass, entering the warm solitude of the comfy cabin, but not before the storm’s flanking guard managed a coup by slipping between the legs of its antagonist, sending a chilling blast into the room.

The fire roared to life, sending a swirl of sparks up through the hewn stone chimney, flames soaring high in defense of the warmth it had birthed, driving down the bitter winds to defeat, consuming any of the chilling breeze that stood defiantly before it. ‘ Slam! ’

went the door, quickly followed by the crack of the bolt being driven home, securing the latch. At that, the winter tempest began a howling of angry frustration that lasted several minutes, but to no avail. The battle was lost.

Nervously peering out from behind an old musty trunk, the mouse, still holding close in tiny paws its cheesy delight, watched closely, eyeing with trepidation the giant standing in the shadows at the edge of the firelight. Nary did this giant move, not until tiny rivers of water and chunks of melting snow falling from cleated boots puddled the floor upon which it stood. Still, the person rocking said nothing, watching intently with sea-green eyes the crimson blaze beyond the hearth. At long last, the tiny furry creature tired the wait and turned its attention to the cheese, keeping a wary eye on possible danger while savoring the feast secured in its grasp.

At length, still tingling from the cold, the newly arrived visitor strode toward the fire, extending chilled hands while stamping frozen boots to free them of any remaining ice.

As the person stood there, rubbing life into numb fingers, a voice quietly asked, “Did you slip away unnoticed?”

There was no immediate reply, just the sound of hands being vigorously rubbed together. In time, with slender fingers now returned to life and feeling, the person at the fire stood erect, pulling back a fur-lined hood. With one graceful movement, the cape, with hood attached, swept from handsome shoulders, revealing the comely form of a woman goddess. Tall, muscular, sensual, the fire could not disguise this woman’s beauty. As young in appearance as a sprite, but with a haunting face and furrowed brow

as ancient as the mountains, this woman was no child, but an ancient of Ancients, a witch from before the dawn of time. Firelight flickered across smoky-grey eyes, revealing a latent power held in check by an iron will whose struggles had weathered such a handsome face into stone-like beauty. But the eyes burned bright, full of spirit, even as the body gradually withered from a cancer slowly consuming its might.

There was no smile in the woman’s reply, no emotion or energy, it having been consumed by the winter storm. “I took the lone night patrol along the Nebulan Cloud Bank. It interrupts our inter-ship communication as well as our scanners. No one is expecting to hear from me for many hours.”

Looking around the room, the woman shook her head, recalling innocent days of long ago. “I have not visited this place since the constellations of the AntonSodoney rose in celebration over the southern hills of EdenEsonbar and Gradian’s Clock chimed the coming hour of rebirth. That is nearly twenty-six thousand years past. Was I the last of my kind to seek the solace of this haven, for I sensed my spirit still lingering upon the handle of the door?”

Green eyes twinkled, recalling fond memories, while a head nodded dreamily. “Yes.

Yes, it is so. Do you not yet know that you, alone, have been my only love to have discovered this place? I built it for you, my dear one, long ago, when the universe beyond EdenEsonbar still belonged to the Ones Who Came Before. It is full of mystery and secrets that only you hold the key to. I had envisioned it as a gift to you when the secret of life was revealed to my children.” The person saddened, shaking her head.

“Alas, it shall never see such innocent mirth as I purposed. This place will, instead, become your sanctuary in future days when the worlds are again at peace. I am but the caretaker of it until that hour arrives.”

The woman nodded but made no reply. She looked around and, spying a stool half hidden in the shadows, pulled it near the hearth, sat down and quietly removed her pilot’s boots. With a grunt, followed by a relaxing sigh, the second boot was pulled off and she busied herself with gently massaging life back into cramped toes.

As practiced hands soothed the flesh, a tired voice went on to speak of other matters.

“The storm is most intense. Had I not felt your presence, I doubt it would have been possible for me to find this place tonight. As it was, I made my way through a mile of frozen drifts, having to abandon my ship in a distant field, fearing the danger of a collision should I pursue further travel with that machine.”

A smile crept across the face of the person in the rocking chair. “Few there are who could have mastered the elements this eve. Do you think it by chance the weather is so outrageous? My Dear One, there are many evil forces who have great power. Spies abound in your world. Only a fool would have dared follow you into this maelstrom…

save only one…and he is far from this place at the moment. I can feel it to be so. It was important for my heart to seek you out in secret tonight. I desired no one, not even an innocent, to interrupt our meeting.”

There was a long silence in the room. The woman sitting on the stool hung her head as if in tired disappointment, her long, flowing, silver hair falling almost to the floor.

Staring at the worn planking, she finally replied, “I am your servant. Please, my Meter, what is it your heart wishes to speak about?”

The person in the chair turned her head, smiling. “Long have your lips been silent with that name, my Tolohe.” She returned her gaze to the fire. “Tolohe? Tolohe…

‘Pillar of the Sun’, ‘StuloHelios’, Tolohe. You do recall it is a name given you by the gods of ages past, when you still suckled at my breasts. Few speak of you by that name anymore. Why do you hate it so?”

Tolohe raised her eyes toward the flames, searching for a reply. “When the world was young, it was so beautiful. There were but the two of you, my Meter and Chrusion, my lover and mentor. Oh yes, I do recall the strange beings that flitted in and out of our lives, sometimes so handsome as to outshine Chrusion, and yet at other times taking on wild shapes that could be laughable or frightening.

“I knew you only by the name I gave you, ‘Meter’… ‘Mother’, until I was well in my teens, when those same gods spoke in secret to me their own fond words for you, and how deeply they cared for the one giving them life so long ago. It was long ago, beyond the ages of time, and yet I feel that I, too, have lived beyond the ages of time. So long my heart has ached over lost love, long before this Rebellion. I have hidden my heart in a shadow-world until it stands alone in a desolate land. Few are my lovers. They fear my sickness lest they may fall prey to a diseased mind. My beauty faded long ago until it is little more than a ghostly ruin of its former self. Chrusion broke my heart before the First Age was passed. When it died, along with it went the beauty of the wondrous name given me in that forgotten time.”

Tolohe looked into her mother’s face. “And should I complain? Has not your heart been ripped from your own bosom, being crushed by the man we both loved for so long?

Does not the very name given you by my young siblings testify to the changed world that exists around us? Yehowah, God of the new age, King of the Throne of Salvation, Bringer of Rage and Storm! I stood beside you the day you declared to the man who was once our lover, ‘ I shall become whatever I need to become in order to crush you… you belly-walking worm! ’ From that day forward, my sweet, innocent Meter has carried the name of war and death, ‘Yehowah’ …a name so unfit for the person I love so dearly.”

Again there was a long silence. “Meter…it is a name that is so comforting to my soul.”

Meter...Lowenah...looked into Tolohe’s eyes. “My Dear, I am no ruler, never have been. The Ones Who Came Before did not see me as a ruler or a god. I was but one with them, they having come from my very essence. I do not like to rule, and that is one secret you know better than all the others except…except we shall not speak anymore of him.”

She reached out, touching Tolohe’s knee with playing fingers. “Tonight, for a few fleeting hours, Tolohe needs to again become the Pillar of the Sun, the pillar for Meter to rest her weary head upon.”

Tolohe gripped Lowenah’s hand, tears filling her eyes. “I am your servant, your lover, your companion. Whatever your slightest wish, I shall move the Heavens to bring to you. You ask so little and deserve so much more than your child can possibly give.”

Lowenah leaned her head back, resting it against the chair. She closed her eyes in silent ponderings, the crackling fire the only sound coming from within the tiny cabin.

Peeking out from its hiding place, the skittish mouse, overcome by hungry desire for more crumbles of cheese, chanced the moment, hurrying forth to abscond with another of the morsels scattered upon the floor. If anyone heard, no one paid heed. Cheeks full of rich reward, the little fellow happily scampered away to its hiding place.

At long last, Lowenah took up the conversation. “I have brought you here tonight for many reasons. Some, as you know, are fraught with personal and selfish desires.

Still, had it not been for other more necessary ones, I would not have troubled a soul

weighed down with the needs of the universe. The future of all living things hinges upon decisions soon to be made. I fear you, alone, will have the power to force those decisions onto the correct path.”

She sat forward, turning her chair so as to face Tolohe. “I’m sorry. Such a rude host, you know. My mind’s been off in a fog. Please, can I offer you something to warm your tired soul and feed a hungry belly?”

Tolohe smiled, nodding. Soon there were hot cakes and jam, along with steaming jasmine sweet tea to tempt the palate. As the newly appeared dishes magically filled with sumptuous delights, the woman wryly commented, “My powers are greatly diminished through this sickness of mine. No longer can I conjure such a repast without the aid of machines made by ageless hands. Little more than that cup could I produce for this meal.

The witchery of my mind, though, is still sharp and I can see deep into the heart of space and time.”

Lowenah grinned reassuringly, “My daughter shall be made new again, that I know.

For now, let us pretend… pretend that things are so different. Now then, tell me of my concoction. Does it titillate the senses as it once did?”

Tolohe took the cup of hot brew, inhaling its delightful fragrance, a smile growing on her face, and then sipped. “Ahhhh…you have outdone even yourself. None better have I ever tasted in all my days. You are the greatest witch of all, making the simplest things treasures to behold.” She looked deeply into Lowenah’s eyes. “You, Mother, make the best tea. I do so miss it when I am away.”

Lowenah grinned again, lifting her own cup. “Then we shall drink it to the day when there will be no need for us to part!”

For a while, the two became lost in innocent chatter, each one outdoing the other with rhyme and song, stories from happy days long forgotten. The little mouse danced with glee at seeing the countless crumbs falling to the floor, a feast in the making.

At length, the hour had come, the food consumed. Lowenah’s face sobered, her dark thoughts harkening other speech. “My dear child, there are many dangerous roads we must travel before innocence will again rule these worlds.” She looked toward the fire, a newly placed log having freshly ignited the sparking flames. “The prisoner exchange is but a few days future. I do so wish your company at that time, but I know it is not possible.”

Tolohe nodded, asking for another cup of tea, stalling for time. As she stirred the fresh, hot brew, she asked, “So, do you intend to continue with your plan, even after the last council?”

Lowenah responded, “I can wait no longer. I have seen into the demon’s mind and watched him stew in his anger. I must force his hand now.” She looked into Tolohe’s face, the age of troubled times reflecting on her own. “It is no longer an issue of ‘are we ready?’ It matters not the cost to us, for it shall be high. Chrusion must be made to move, show his hand in power. He must be goaded into action before he is fully prepared.”

Tolohe studied her tea as if stirring it was most important. After sniffing in the satisfying aroma, she quietly recommended, “May I suggest you take Tizrela and PalaHar with you as standard bearers? Neither fears the Worm, each having contested against him on the field of honor. They also understand the hour and the day, counting no guilt toward you, but hold themselves accountable for the evil that lives among us.” She set

the spoon down, staring again into Lowenah’s green eyes. “It is true, we have become weak and, as at other times in the past, not heeded your counsel or listened to your wisdom, but trust me, there is still a fiery strength hidden within your loyal children. We will weather the coming storm.”

Lowenah slowly shook her head. “Strength like an aged, weathered tree… Your kind will, as you so often have before, take the blow, but that age is passed into meaninglessness. Your kind must become the aggressor, the monster that tears up its prey. I doubt such a feat still exists within them.”

After taking a sip and giving time for her palate to luxuriate in its robust delights, Tolohe replied, “I trust you have a remedy to deliver a cure, for never have I heard you pose such a dilemma without having searched out a solution.”

Lowenah answered, “Oh, yes, but a bitter one it is! A long night is coming, and I fear that the Field of the Minds shall fill to overflowing before the daylight again arrives.

My children…” she was so remorseful, “my children…so many will sleep the long sleep before the evil hour’s hunger is fully satisfied.” Looking down at her hands, she lamented, “I have the power to bring this madness to a finish, but I cannot, for then I, myself, should become the greatest of evil serpents! The blood of freedom of all my children, of all I stand for, cries out from beyond the Abyss, condemning me for even thinking such selfish thoughts. No! The victory must come at the hands of my children even to the destruction of them all.” She began to quietly weep.

Placing the cup down and taking her mother’s hand, Tolohe promised, “My Dearest One, my Love, please do not torment your tender heart. Such calamity will not happen. I will not allow it. Dear one, your children will not fail.”

Lowenah’s pleading eyes peered into Tolohe’s from a tear-stained face. “How can you promise such folly when I have seen your very demise in fire and smoke? How can you know with such confidence that my children will succeed?”

Shocked at first by Lowenah’s revelation, Tolohe quickly recovered, answering,

“The blood of our mother flows in each of my siblings. She is not weak from fear and neither are they. Foolish? Yes, and also dull of senses, drugged by the happy days of ancient bliss.” She squeezed her mother’s hand, leaning close, imploring, “We love you with such intensity that each one of us would eagerly sacrifice all things, forever, rather than see our dear one hurt. We lack wisdom, must learn how to pull victory from longing hearts, but it can…will be accomplished. There is too much love within us to fail. Show us how to love and we shall conquer all that is evil, bringing it down to Gehenna for all time!”

The flow of tears eased and soon stopped, Lowenah watching the fire surge in intensity as the winter winds cried out in empty frustration. The heat of the blaze, along with a sweet scent of flaming apple-wood newly placed on the hearth, refreshed her spirit. A sudden ‘ pop! ’ sent an army of tiny sparks up the chimney. Lowenah watched until the last one disappeared from sight. “You know, I believe I lit a fire under my children at the last council meeting.”

Tolohe silently nodded, not wanting to intrude where uninvited. Mother was oftentimes a secret person, the reason for riddles. So much she kept to herself, always had, feeling she did not have the words to convey the real meaning hiding in her heart.

Tonight was different. Lowenah wanted her daughter to see, to understand all that lay beneath the surface of her outer soul. “I have revealed to my children the third of my

three Swords, TrishaQaShaibjal. I am sorry to have not sought your counsel in this matter, but…but, still, what do you think of my choice?”

Tolohe rubbed her chin in thought while staring into the half-empty cup of tea.

“Well, I detect that not everyone was pleased, including my sister, Mihai. Meter, I trust to your wisdom. As for the woman? I do not know her well. She served under my command for a time, but only as a common officer. When observing her, I unlocked few secrets. She hides herself so well in shadows of mystery, something that I believe has been the doing of your hands.” She frowned, “There exists a power within the woman that troubles my spirit. It is dangerous, barely contained, and smells of evil. Had it not been at your very hand she was delivered here, I would say a demon raised from Hell the woman to be. Yet I know her not to be such, for you have sealed her heart in lasting life.

I trust you.”

Lowenah smiled, nodding, “Others of your kind have not been so generous with my choice. They see her as a bastard child of these realms, an unfit usurper of privileged powers.”

Tolohe picked up her cup of tea, drinking the remainder down, offering, “You have purposes secreted from the wisest of your children. PalaHar has spoken of this to me.

He is both troubled and amused. He and I trust fully in your actions and accept this child of the Earth into our inner circle. My hope…no, I am certain that my brothers and sisters will come around and not only embrace her as our new leader, but become willing to learn at her feet the ways of the North.”

Thanking Tolohe, Lowenah added, “You speak with discernment. The child’s heart is twisted by the very forges of Hell that have engulfed her old world in violence down to this day. But it is by such a twisted heart that salvation shall come to your people in later days and…and at the prisoner exchange.”

Tolohe wondered, “PalaHar says the woman has no feelings, but stands as emotionless as a mountain wall. How will my people trust her if they can see no love or compassion flowing from her?”

Lowenah grinned, “Oh, she has love and passion. And I have already begun the process to reawaken it from within. My little boy is busy at work on her heart. I sent him away on a scent that he will be unable to shake from his nostrils. Soon Trisha’s ardor will grow beyond control for…well, you know how Zadar is.”

Tolohe laughed, “You need not given him the witch’s potion to boot. He has the power to make a woman surrender to his wiles even should she be upon the field of battle. Once the dam has burst, will Trisha have the fortitude remaining to lead your children to war?”

Answering, Lowenah shook her head, “It will take a great deal of witchery to deliver that child to Zadar’s bed. She is a tough case. In the years since her arrival, she has refused every offer of romance, be it dream share or otherwise, she feeling repulsed by even the thought of her sisters’ touch. No, it will be no easy matter for my son to carry the gate to take her heart, but I trust he will…and at the right time, too.”

“Are you sure you sent him?” Tolohe asked, chuckling. “She is quite comely, more so than most, and those stodgy clothes can hide only so much. Zadar would have sought to uncover the woman’s secrets soon enough, if left on his own.”

Lowenah laughed, “True! True! Still, this child is so different, badly damaged, I feel…so much so I fear that Zadar would tire of the chase if left to his own powers. Oh,

he will struggle with her, with his personal feelings…already is. Who knows, he may well fall in love.”

“Zadar fall in love?!” Tolohe laughed. “The world is not prepared to deal with that man captured up in love!”

Lowenah began to laugh with Tolohe. It felt good to laugh and, if someone could bring on her light spirit, it was Tolohe. When the joyous tumult eased, she became serious, resting a hand on Tolohe’s knee. “He loves you. Always has. Why do you dismiss his advances? You know how sweet his kisses are and how they revive your soul.”

Tolohe frowned then smiled. “You’re right. I have been derelict in my duties. I will not refuse the boy his advances the next time he offers. He has a way that can make my heart sing on the dreariest of nights.”

“Good! Good! Please do so, for my sake.” Lowenah went on to other business.

“Mihai also revealed the secret of the other Swords, pointing out that the first was already walking among them, hiding in the shadows.”

A chill swept across Tolohe’s heart. “Meter, this one is very dangerous! Only by your reassurance have I come to trust her. Even I have trouble remembering when she passes. More like the mist is she - an angry mist filled with vengeance. There is good reason she is called the ‘Death Angel’, the ‘Gravemaker’. Hairs rise on the back of my neck when she comes into my presence. Like living death she feels to me. She is there and then gone without a trace. I cannot find a soul within her. Is she truly real, a child from forgotten lands, or is it a machination of your witchery sent to test us out?”

Shaking her head, Lowenah answered, “She is very real, very damaged…far beyond Zadar’s repair. Her owner will one day rescue her heart. A danger? Not to you or your kind, but to those who rebelled she is most deadly. A heart more corrupted than the Stasis is hers, but still filled with a sweet love for all that is good. A formidable force is she against your wicked brother. Even now she haunts his worlds, walking unseen in his holy places. There is an hour coming when a crack will rupture in the wall surrounding her heart…a sad hour, but one that will begin the healing.”

Tolohe was curious. “So you created this being when making her new in these realms or how?”

“No,” Lowenah again shook her head, “Chrusion has created a demented world filled with pain and sorrow. It bends and twists the hearts of many so that even my powers cannot mend the damage. I must trust to Time for the cure. Until that hour, I can use the destructive forces instilled in the Worm’s victims to wreak vengeance upon his world…just reward for what he has committed against these innocents.

“With such a foul-smelling heart, my child can enter in right among those evil miscreants, they sensing no abnormality in their harmonics. For the moment, my Sword’s heart releases a harmonic song that cannot be detected even by Chrusion’s powers. She has even put pig piss in his omen cup!” Lowenah laughed derisively. “She is become a shadow-dancer. The rebels believe a traitor walks in their midst and they know not what to do about it. She is a very trustworthy spy.”

Leaning forward, Tolohe asked, “So she keeps close in touch?”

“Oh, yes!” Lowenah replied. “Your brother’s war councils do not remain secret to my ears. I have learned much about the coming prisoner exchange from my attentive daughter.”

“Meter,” Tolohe asked, “why put her at such risk? She is still mortal and inexperienced. Have you no better way to gather needed information?”

Lowenah pondered aloud, “Risk? Mortal? Inexperienced? Well yes, you might be correct, at least about the mortal part. Inexperienced and at risk? That I must argue.

First, I do not put her in danger. She is a creature of free will and chooses to do as she wants, merely delivering to me information pleasing to her. And” she squinted, searching Tolohe’s eyes, “the only danger is to Chrusion and his people. The child has powers greater than yours…many latent, for sure…but still sufficient to deal with the likes of that rabble. Indeed, there has never been a child with greater glory than her and those others I have delivered to these worlds. But for now, the glory remains to be found in my Swords, new creations of untold strength and might.”

Leaning back in the chair, Lowenah sighed, “Even as a mortal, there is no force to be found among the enemy that can stop my child. Why, she could create heaps upon heaps of bodies should Chrusion’s elite guard attempt her capture. That woman could walk through a company of his best like a whirlwind through a wheat field. Only could Chrusion check her hand.”

Lowenah offered more tea. When the cups were full, she continued, “As for the spying, I refuse to steal freedom even from the wicked. I will not stoop to such loathsome antics as searching hidden rooms with my mind, nor steal another’s thoughts for my purposes, even if they are well intended. The ends do not justify the means. A game is a game and a riddle is a riddle. No matter the cost, rules must be followed. It is the root-law of freedom.” Tolohe agreed.

First taking a sip, Lowenah added, “It is by this fly on the wall I have come to know many secrets and, by law, I can use this information against him. You will see him fail.

This prisoner exchange will not be to his liking. What he learns there will set matters in motion that will force him to act prematurely, leading to his final defeat.”

The two lost themselves in discussion concerning the prisoner exchange, the latest council, the attitude of the children regarding the newcomers from the Lower Realms, and any pertinent gossip relating to current events. Tolohe was not satisfied with the state of preparedness of the military, making recommendations while listening to several suggestions from her mother. She was most attentive to Lowenah’s detailed account of Ardon’s actions regarding Darla, saying nothing for fear of stirring a troubled pot.

Finally, Lowenah revealed the real reasons for requesting Darla’s presence at the prisoner exchange, asking, “Was I remiss in pushing so? Did I do the right thing?”

Tolohe defended her youngest sister. “Darla will cause you no injury, but beware, she may well destroy herself should truth be twisted beyond reason.” She frowned, “The child is a misfit, a queer thing, spooky, but she is not dangerous other than to herself. I believe you have chosen wisely. What this world needs are more like her. Had she been a million, this war would never have begun.

“At Memphis she saved more on that day than perished in fire and torture. She held the gap – how, I do not know. Against odds of a hundred-to-one, her band stole the enemy’s glory, surrendering up to him a hollow victory filled with his own countless dead.” She clasped her hands, remembering, “Twice I have carried her shattered body from the field, thinking the child no more. At Fortress Mordem, we found her nearly frozen, she refusing to abandon Depais’ body to the wolves and vultures. We were forced to promise to gather the dead before she would abandon the field.”

Shaking her clasped hands while nodding, she added, “Darla is an outstanding leader! A shame she has never been recognized as such. She is the bravest soldier I know, and smart. Godenn underestimated her once and nearly lost his head for it. If she survives this coming fury, may she be honored with the glory she deserves.”

Lowenah eyed Tolohe. “She will survive! Must!” then turning away toward the fire, added, “As for the older counselors, Darla is not refined or smooth with diplomatic speech. She speaks her mind when offered the moment. Few of the oldest on the council have seen, firsthand, the horrors of war, nor have they smelled the distress of battle. If they could witness her heroism, they might well feel differently about her.”

Tolohe asked, curious, “So you have chosen to keep the child alive so that she cannot die?”

“Not I!” Lowenah waved a hand. “There are forces at work in this universe that even you have not come to fully understand. You, the child of the Cherubs, should realize that I do not enforce law as some king or dictator would. There are those whose counsel I even pay close heed to.

“No, I fear not the loss of Darla’s body, but that of her mind. The demon grows in might by the day, consuming more of the child’s mind into its own. Already it has done lasting damage. How much, I cannot tell. When rid of that monster, she will be forever changed. How much is for the future to tell. At this time, I must set wheels in motion that will bring to a finish what grows within.”

Concerned, Tolohe asked, “Is there no cure other than a sojourn into damnation?”

“There has ever been only one other, and none of my daughters will release their control over that destiny long enough for me to bring it.” Lowenah sadly shrugged, “So it must be a journey into damnation to receive the cure. But my child does not go alone.

Her friendly host is most caring. Never has she been abandoned to the Darkness, never will she. Trust me, though Heaven and Earth should pass away, my girl’s rescue will arrive in time.”

Lowenah continued, dismayed, “When the evil of Chrusion’s corrupt mind entered the world, I could well see it in Michael’s mind, but I became so preoccupied with her that I abandoned my responsibilities with Darla, my dearest Rachel. When I discovered the demon growing within her, it was far too late to make a cure. I soothed her as best I could, but had to allow the monster its day. And because of it, my child has suffered in so many ways.” She sighed, “Her suckling did save Michael’s mind, though, it slowing the demon’s growth.”

“Meter, is there nothing we can do? What of the powers beyond this universe?”

“No,” Lowenah bemoaned, “only by some great, orgasmic reaction exploding from within her own soul will such a deed be accomplished. It must be so great as to threaten her very existence. It must happen soon or we will lose her anyway, and then I don’t know…I don’t know.”

Tolohe nodded, understanding all too well. If Lowenah failed to deliver the cure, and her child fell into damnation, she would see herself as a mother unfit to even live.

Could she contain those feelings for eternity? She was immortal, having life within her personal being. Death could not come to her, but…but, she feared, would her heart sink to such levels so as to destroy her mind, bringing on an eternal forgetfulness and a ruination to all living things? Long had that possibility troubled her. Only Tolohe understood its depth.

Staring at the floor, Tolohe answered reassuringly, “You will succeed.” Looking up and into Lowenah’s eyes, hers reflecting that same sadness, she promised, “We will succeed. The blood that my brothers and sisters have shed will not be wasted upon some empty victory! We will do whatever is necessary to carry the future to success. You will not falter, cannot. My little sister will win her contest. Mihai will learn wisdom. Meter, there is much more to you than you wish to see. You say you do not want to be ruler. I say there is none better to rule than you. Your strength of will is far greater than even your heart. You can hold all the fires of torment in your bosom for all the ages and never waver in your purposes. There is nothing that is impossible for you. Nothing! When you feel at your weakest, your strength is only then made evident. I have seen it. It burns in your children, in the gods beyond this world, and in you… the Maker of our souls.

Meter…my Love of loves… you will succeed! ”

Lowenah’s fingers gripped the arms of her chair. Little could she hide from this intuitive creature, her troubled heart exposed by distressed words. “Thank you for such kindness, but you know I have failed my children…still do. But you…your leadership is unmatched by anyone living or dead. I wish you to have been my firstborn. You can calm a troubled soul…have. You bring me real refreshment.” She looked sadly into Tolohe’s eyes, confessing, “I have used you up, depended too much on your might, to the point I have kilt your soul by my many demands.”

Tolohe shook her head in denial, but said nothing. The cancer was hers to carry, the stress of the ages having destroyed her immune system. The woman would not charge against another the burden she had chosen to carry so long ago. Still, Tolohe hoped a cure. There was another who might save her, but that request must come at the proper time, for he saw not the ways of mortals and understood little the panderings of a selfish heart.

Silence filled the room, the fire not quite as comforting as before. Lowenah wished to change the mood and bring back the warmth. She spoke of other matters. “Michael Morning Star has rejected the crown.”

Tolohe perked up, smiling, “It is good! Did you succeed with your other offer?”

Lowenah nodded, “The child is now king over a tormented land that she, alone, can secure and return to brightness. I have set in motion the tools necessary for her to accomplish that task.” Looking into Tolohe’s eyes, she asked, “Now that it has come to pass, will you not accept what is - what should have always been yours? You are the second in line to the Firstborn and have proved yourself fit and worthy. Will you take the crown offered Michael and deliver the blessing up to my daughters?”

Laughing, Tolohe answered, “A woman born was I and a woman I shall remain until the breath passes from my lips. This you’ve long known. Besides, you’ve already chosen the king of kings in your heart, did long ago. It should go to the one woven by your magic. He is the one deserving the crown, being so much like you.”

Surprised, Lowenah raised an eyebrow, squinting the other eye, asking, “Why do you speak in such riddles?”

Tolohe cautioned, “Don’t play innocent with me! I know your heart nearly as well as you do. Need I tell you the tale of the world beyond? I will anyway.

“At one time, in the Realms Below, you wanted a nation to be built, made to show the rest of mankind how generous and loving a person you really are. Alas, you put your daughter here to the task, resulting in what I believe to have been disappointment. From

the days of Abram down to glory’s hour, I led them and directed them. What happened?

The world of men came to think of you as a cruel, demanding and aggressive God, one to be worshipped out of fear. To this day, they call down evil on you for the acts of war I delivered upon wicked men.”

She shook her head. “I am a warrior, will die with my hand on the sword before any sickness will take me. Valiant and harsh are my ways. You call me ‘Pillar of the Sun’.

Your own children have named me ‘HierosEchidnaMnema’, ‘The Holy Serpent that brings down to nothing’. No! My ways are harsh, almost evil. You are too pure for me to represent your spirit. I have grossly misrepresented you.”

Staring into the blaze, she continued, “Later you delivered Mihai upon the scene.

Through her love, she has changed the world of men, but not their understanding of you.

For many, Mihai’s God is weak, unable to do anything but love, unwilling to bring justice. May I add there is some just reason for them to think so. When the hour chosen was delayed - as it has been now for so many centuries - the men of that world tired out, feeling your promise only a metaphor, the hope only remaining at some other place after death. For this and other reasons, I do not feel Mihai a truly suitable person to represent you.”

Lowenah disagreed. “It was not the fault of my daughter that the hour of salvation was delayed. I could not risk her demon’s glory over her, and your brother’s treachery with tricksy words fooled even the hearts of many of my loyal children, and…and there were so many other reasons I allowed the universe to wait upon a moment. I still wait…still wait.”

Tolohe leaned forward, resting a hand on Lowenah’s forearm. Her reply was filled with love, but it could not hide bitter disappointment. “My Meter, no matter the reason, the delay has been most costly. Three times we drove the evil of Hormax and his confederates down, bringing devastation upon the lands of Mizraim, Magog, and Javan, desolating those worlds of men. And only then, in the end, as the blood of Haudenosaunez’s kindred and your own loyal children made holy the field of slaughter –

our dead counted by the thousands of thousands - he and I, side by side, felled the last of the Anakim at Camorra Heights, bringing the first breath of freedom since the days of Japheth to those tortured lands of demon possession. My Love, your children cannot survive another delay. I cannot survive another delay. My hour is close, for I have seen its wretched end should time fail me.”

Tolohe sat back, ashamed of her rueful accusations. How well she knew the sacrifices her mother had made, but only here, in this one place, in the company of this one person, could the great Pillar of the Sun become the tired, lonely, disheartened child.

For this reason, Lowenah remained silent, allowing her daughter time to grieve over the loss of her own virginity…her innocence.

Shaking her head to clear troubling memories, Tolohe returned to the subject, a stoic appearance of weathered granite clouding her face. “Neither Mihai nor I are qualified to carry the Horn of Rachel before the universe of men. We are the extremes of your personality. No…no, the king who sits your throne must be just like you. Your blood must flow through his veins.”

Lowenah leaned back, replying in thoughtful consideration, “So, you’ve put me in a pickle. Who is there remaining, fit and qualified to take up the scepter and return to my daughters their youth and dignity?”

Tolohe chided, “Don’t play the part of an innocent waif. You may well have tricked with the foolish, dumb and blind, but your riddles have been secreted by me from this world’s founding, for well I am aware of the unholy union and its offspring. And long have I known that you wove your own blood into the belly of the woman who bore the Son of Salvation, and I do see that that blood still flows rich in the veins of a man born from darkness and light. You have not hidden well your intentions in our dream shares together.”

Cocking her head to the side while shaking a finger, Tolohe postured, “I harbor no ill will concerning these matters. You are the Maker of all things. You are Law. Whatever is your slightest desire is my most impassioned want. So then, I recommend what will satisfy most your heart, a man-child who shares your soul, heart, and yes, even your blood. For the right man, you have held in abeyance the four winds down to this day and he, I believe, you have now discovered. ‘ Yehowahboam’… ‘The Man Who Stands In the Place of God’…Shiloh…‘Sword-King Over Heaven and Hell’.” Tolohe’s eyes wandered as she described the man, her face blushing rose while two lips struggled to hold back a girlish smile.

Patting Tolohe’s leg, Lowenah stared into her eyes, squinting. “The scent of a storm’s coming ever heralds upon the approaching breeze and a maiden swoons at the thoughts of her hero’s embrace. Has my daughter been smitten by the breeze that tells of a coming man who is but still a child? Does her heart yearn for love from a hero yet to prove himself? I detect feelings of love hidden in the music of your words. Love…such a dangerous possession for the heart to contain while the stallion is yet running the plain, unbridled.”

Tipping her head back, Tolohe closed her eyes, sighing sadly, “Oh, but this stallion has the heart of both its mother and father, fire and ice, power and tenderness, rage and compassion, tumult and peace. Hidden in the self-doubt of a frightened sheep there dwells a demon-monster waiting to rise, it awaiting the day its power is unchained.

Dangerous he is, king of the Dragons! Lord of the gods or slave of the Serpent, himself?

We must wait to see. Still, his scent excites me in ways long forgotten. My heart is bound with his to our glory or our ruin.” She leaned forward, clutching Lowenah’s arm, pleading, “The boy must not fail! For shall that happen, then I wish no longer for life itself.”

Lowenah caressed her child’s hand, “Death? Death is not yours to choose, for your fathers have purchased your soul and will do with it as they choose. But this I do know: I, too, trust in his success, but I have seen that in his glory will come your destruction. In his hour of test, in his greatest victory, he will call out to a woman who will not heed your counsel, but will attempt a coup upon her brother. A trap! A trap, I say, has already been laid at his door. Death to her is its intent. You will not let that happen for my sake and the blow will fall upon you.” Lowenah slowly shook her head, tears falling. “To save my Michael, you must die.”

Tolohe bowed her head in silence. At long last, she whispered, “He will succeed.

There is nothing else for it, or all Heaven and Earth shall pass away.”

Lowenah smiled, wiping away tears. She finally asked as though speaking to herself, “So, has it come to this? The future existence of all my worlds depends upon the loyal love of a child not yet grown from his teens? We risk everything on the merits of a

good heart borne along by a free will of a wild stallion let loose upon the torrid field, trusting that he will act in wisdom when his hour of darkness falls instantly upon him?”

Turning to stare into the crackling blaze, Lowenah pondered the coming hour when all of her works hung upon such an uncertain thread. It was all or nothing…always had been…but never violently exposed and violated to be spoken of with such openness.

Still, it was the truth, the only way to bring absolution to the argument that she –

Lowenah – was not wicked in the way she had made her children. Freedom must win!

And she must prove that her way was the solution to bring real freedom. Looking back into Tolohe’s passionate eyes, Lowenah softly pronounced her willingness to stay the course at all cost. “Then so be it! ”

Lowenah quickly changed the subject. “As I have said, Michael has accepted the kingship and will wield the king’s Swords until he arrives. Because of this, I find myself in a most peculiar position in which there is need of your assistance. I have a serious request.”

Tolohe bowed low, looking up into her mother’s eyes. “Why do you need to make request? To my dying breath, all that I have is yours for the taking.”

After showing her gratitude with a kiss, Lowenah asked, “Please sit up and become my steward. The hour of the prophets draws ever closer and battle, this time, shall ruin all my wonderful works. Indeed! My womb shall cry out for its children who lay slain like fallen chaff upon an overripe field of grain. My grand ballrooms will become a lurking place of the dust mite. The spider will weave its tapestry across the doorposts of many great palaces that will echo only the sound of the fruit bat as it seeks refuge from the sun. It is a bitter hour. Who will survive?

“In the middle of this maelstrom I have set my child, Michael. She will gather the storm and set the forest ablaze. Her hand will decide the time that this world shall die.

But I have set up a protection for this child, should she listen to its wise counsel…which I doubt. The girl is reckless, unpredictable…a quality I will soon be using to my advantage. She will little tolerate the back seat when the cry for blood rents the air.

“The crown and kingdom I have saddled her with will force my child to stand the throne while the world goes mad around her. But she is feisty and, if pushed, will enter the battle of warcraft. This is something that must not be allowed, at all costs. I cannot afford her capture and enslavement.”

Tolohe stopped her mother, asking, surprised, “I know you choose your words carefully. Why do you speak of her capture and not her death as being the worst of calamities?”

Lowenah glanced toward the door as though fearing the wind might carry away secrets to listening ears as she softly answered, “She cannot die...”

Aghast, Tolohe asked, “She has not yet passed into the worlds of the Immortals, has she?! It is still for a future day, is it not?!”

Tolohe’s excitement set the mood. Lowenah relaxed. “No. No, she is not yet immortal, but she has been changed as have a few of the others. You see, her spirit cannot escape the girl’s flesh. When Michael first returned from the Realms Below, I created a new body of flesh for her. When she accepted her rightful place in my kingdom by taking the crown, I set it aflame, waking its power. So, until the day she is gifted with immortality and is given authority over the spirit of the flesh, she is locked for good or ill in the body she now possesses. And that body cannot be fully destroyed. Thus is finally

fulfilled the words of my prophets, ‘Death, where is your glory, for you have been made subject even to me.’

“So here is the dilemma: should Michael be captured, or should her body be found as though dead upon the field, your brother will demand it be sent to him, there to be desecrated in horrible ways. Once it is discovered she possesses an indestructible mind and heart, when it is seen that by the very hidden energy of the universe the woman’s body would regenerate back to health, think of the tortures he will heap upon her until her rescue was secured. Then think, also, of the countless numbers of my children who will perish in fire and destruction attempting that rescue.”

A visible shudder ran down Tolohe’s back. “What, then, is my part in securing freedom from such a fate for this child?”

Lowenah’s answer was quick and sharp. “You must stop her from such folly!

Whatever the cost, keep her safe!”

Tolohe shrugged in wonder, her arms outstretched with question. “How?! To her has all authority been given. She rules as king, lord, master over all living things. Yes, I am older than she, and my witching powers are far, far, greater, but what authority do I possess that will make her subject to me?”

Lowenah, too, shrugged but all so casually, “Then I will have to gift you with greater authority . ” A blinding light flashed across the room. Tolohe cried out in surprise and pain as a fire-like ache exploded in her right hand, racing up her arm. When her eyes could again focus, there, shining every color of the gemstone world, rested a signet ring that when the runes were translated, read, ‘Yehowahboam’. Tolohe was stunned, speechless. She struggled for words while fighting back welling emotions growing in her breast.

Lowenah broke the silence, pointing, “That, my Dear, should satisfy your needs.

Being the king’s signet ring, no one will question the steward wielding its power. And power it does have, enough to rule successfully over this universe…all universes.”

Cupping Tolohe’s shaking hand in hers, Lowenah grinned, “It is yours to use as may be, but also a gift that you will bestow upon your king on the Day of Celebration.”

Tolohe burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as she hid her face in her hands.

Lowenah gently squeezed and then rubbed her child’s knee, understanding all so well the emotion of the moment. It was not the power or the authority the ring carried that so moved the woman. Indeed, it was not really the ring, but what her mother had said regarding it, ‘...you will bestow it upon your king on the Day of Celebration.’ Oh, to come of age again! To become a maiden in the arms of a man who would never shun her love, a man so much like her mentor from the Elder Days but always faithful and true to the end of time! Yes, there was to be a rebirth even for her.

When Tolohe had finally composed herself, Lowenah smiled, cautioning, “Keep it hidden well. You do know how to hide it, safe in your mind. Please, for the moment, keep it secret. Use it only when all other hope is lost, when winsome words have fully waked the demon’s pride in my child, not before. This ring is very dangerous, made for an immortal’s hand to wield its power, and you, my Dear One, are not yet immortal!”

Nodding as final tears fell from her eyes, Tolohe promised to be oh, so careful with such a precious treasure. She leaned close and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I love you too much, my Meter, too much for my heart to bear. Should I fail you, how could I survive another day?”

Lowenah grinned, getting up to stretch as she did. “You fail me?! Child, more like your father are you than you do know. I should have delivered you up to immortality long ago, but…well, you know what I mean.”

Yawning loud, Lowenah lifted her arms toward the ceiling while standing high on tippy-toe. She was tired, and the ebbing flames reflected her mood. Walking across the room to the window beside the door, she stared into the wild and confused storm outside.

“You know, it still looks mighty angry out there, an unpleasant night to forge through frozen drifts to find a half-buried ship.” She tapped the windowsill. “Now, if I were one to forecast the weather, I’d say that the morning will bring a break to this madness, but the clouds should still cover us with enough gloom to get you away unseen.” She began to hum a pleasant little tune.

Tolohe looked up to see not her mother but a tiny sprite of a woman-child, someone little more than in her teens. How beautiful this woman was when the weight of the universe lifted itself from her shoulders! Tonight was such a night. For a few fleeting hours, the troubles of the ages might be forgotten. Tonight…tonight sweet memories of forgotten days, when the world was filled with innocence and wonder, might fill this cabin with the music long unsung in Lowenah’s heart. Here stood the Maker of Worlds so longing to be a flirting maiden in a land of bliss.

Lowenah turned to Tolohe, firelight dancing off enchanting eyes. “Must you brave the cold outside so soon and leave go the warmth of this humble abode? Can you wait upon the day and hold close these fleeting hours in the quiet of this room?”

Tolohe laughed, “Did you really believe I journeyed these many miles only to fend my way off into this storm after such short counsel, one storm, I may add, that appears to be assisted by tampering hands? No. I could not depart at this hour should the Lords of Lagandow call out my name. Tonight is our night, yours and mine. We shall share it as we once did in days long ago when, as a much younger and innocent woman-child, I first unlatched that very door.”

Two lips touched, two souls embraced as the fire peacefully fell to slumbering. In but a short while, the tiny cabin was filled with the sweet music of hearts reunited. To lands long abandoned but not forgotten journeyed the souls of Time fulfilled. For the hour, for the moment, Time was but the boatman ferrying lovers upon an endless river to which the further shore could not be seen.

Soon all fell into silence, other than the sounds of gentle breathing while stormwinds tired of their fury and… and a little mouse sat back on its haunches, happily munching on the feast of crumbs and cheese that had been so carelessly scattered upon the floor.

* * *

An ear-splitting scream tore into Paul’s quiet dreams like a savage beast ripping at his soul. In a panic, he leaped to his feet, eyes bulging with terror of the unknown, wondering what had ever perpetrated such a heart-stopping sound. Instantly there crashed upon his ears another even more diabolical screech of terror, this one coming from the bed where he had been sleeping.

Spinning around, hands raised in preparation to battle with some monstrous evil, Paul stared in shock to see Mihai thrashing about, crying out in agony, all the while

tearing at her face and hair. “Mihai! Mihai!” he shouted, plunging toward her in an attempt to prevent her added injury.

It was the man who suffered wounds, as Mihai slashed out at him with long fingernails, cleaving crimson trails of destruction as they cut across his chest. The moonlight betrayed a story of anguish being fought out within the woman’s mind. To her, all things this night were evil and, if she were to survive, she must fight with all her strength.

“Mihai! Mihai, wake up!” Paul’s tearful pleadings went unheeded.

Into a void of long-forgotten nightmares Mihai fell…fell until she crashed into the one time and space the woman wished most to forget, yet journeyed there often when the moon was full and the night refreshingly sweet. And this night? It was the worst night of the year…the worst so far, for it was a reminder night, a precursor of the moment yet to arrive, a troubadour heralding her new birth to come…her birth into Hell.

Deep into the vortex of sordid memories of long years gone by Mihai tumbled, crashing through one horrid nightmare after another, her demon struggling to drive all remaining sanity from her mind. Smashing hard upon her shoulders in a thorny brier patch, the woman found herself at a long ago time and place, the putrid smell of death filling her nostrils to a nauseating extreme.

Wild laughter and foul curses erupted in her ears as violent hands tore at her flesh.

All the while, beasts violated the woman’s body in most obscene ways as her lover…

yes, lovers tormented her with the every kind of debased and lurid act. Then, if these attacks were not enough, there comes to her the one man…her mentor and god…the man who delivered her into womanhood. He seeks not only to release his unholy passion upon an innocent heart but with it deliver a horde of unspeakable demons to rule over her withering soul.

And then the monsters within... With the unleashing of his power, Mihai’s mind reels as an army of unspeakable, filthy things crawl into her secret worlds to forever seek control of the girl’s inner peace, to eventually possess even her waking thoughts until she becomes little more than the walking dead, knowing but unable to prevent any act committed by her debased body of flesh.

Another scream shatters the night as Mihai refuses to go quietly into tormenting depths. With all her strength, she fights back as the fire-blackened monsters bore into brain and muscle, their fangs and claws shredding breast and bone. She watches, helpless, as two thumbs bore deep into eye sockets, crushing sight from her world, hears the curses regarding the child’s birth, the chants singing the uselessness of her life.

Finally, as the last of her power wanes, the woman cries out, begging, “Oh, let me die!

Oh, my God, please let me die!” But the child’s heart refuses to surrender, screaming out, “Damn you! Damn you all to Hell! I shall take the river and bring all the world to ruin! I shall bring you down! I shall bring you all down to nothing! ”

As she continues to struggle against the monster within, there comes a cry of reinforcements upon the quiet breeze, a voice calling out her name, seeking her return from the worlds of the damned. “Mihai! Mihai, my love, wake up! Come back to me!

Come back to me!” Though it sounded so distant to Mihai, Paul was in reality screaming in her ear, “Mihai! Mihai! Wake up! Wake up! It’s a dream! It’s a dream!” He began to violently shake her as he continued to call out her name.

Gradually, as if rising from beyond the Silent Tombs, Mihai nodded the dream away, hearing more clearly her lover’s words. She took up the battle cry and stood fast her ground upon the sordid field. Eventually, the demon hordes were pushed back into the darkness as she gained control over her mind. As the moon’s glory waned, giving it up to the power of coming morning light, Mihai came to sense the growing day, a harbinger of hope and life. With one final cry of defiance, the woman collapsed into a deep, deathlike sleep.

Mihai opened her eyes as the first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains and across the bed. Paul was gently rocking her, giving her tired body an occasional shake. Still groggy, she beseeched him through tired lips, “Oh please, Love, it’s quite enough. You’re shaking me to jelly. I’ll live! I promise…promise I’ll live another day.”

Worry lines cut deep into Paul’s face, his frustration through the night showing in troubled eyes. The man’s concerned smile and shaking hands puzzled Mihai, wondering why he seemed so unnerved. Paul said nothing, soaking in Mihai’s complaints as though life-giving air to starving lungs. Finally, with tears in his eyes, he cried, “Oh, my Love!

My dear, sweet Mihai returned from the dead! My Love…!”

“Oh, what’s the fuss?!” Mihai sputtered as she struggled to sit. “A bad dream is all it was. One little…” She gasped aloud, looking at the surrounding destruction. The bed was red from her bloody sweat. Littered about, like chaff in a field after a storm, countless golden strands of her hair clung to the wet sheets. “Up! Help me up, ple…”

Mihai let out another gasp as her eyes focused on Paul. It was now her turn to carry a worried question. “What beast has haunted these rooms this night?! You look no better for wear than I feel. Tell me, please, what has come of us?”

Paul shook his head, somewhat relieved at hearing the old Mihai speaking. “It was the demon of love, my Dear, the monster who strikes out blindly when all hope is lost.

But you have returned to me! I remember no struggle, only hope restored to my heart.”

Paul had been a good boy as Lowenah had requested, and stayed with Mihai throughout her ordeal, Lowenah having told him that his presence, alone, should such an event occur, would do wonders at warding off the demon attacks. ‘The time is close for the haunting hour when darkness shall rule for but a moment. It is your duty not to leave my child’s side until that time has passed into nothingness. Do not leave the girl’s side until the witching hour is gone.”

“Help me up, please,” Mihai again asked, almost pleading. With Paul’s assistance, she managed her way from the bed to the mirror at the far end of the room. Mihai leaned close and, peering out through bloodshot eyes, studied the tortured creature staring back at her, groaning in disquiet. Standing there was the most pitiable of living things, a face scratched and puffy gray from the bruising struggle, a head of hair disheveled and torn, a bloodied scalp where clumps of golden tresses had been violently yanked from their nests. Mihai looked a mess. To top this off was a bleeding wound that oozed crimson from the corner of a blackened, swollen lip.

She turned around and, catching Paul’s worried gaze, sputtered, “I look like shit!

Draw me, please, a bath and fill it, please, adding those mineral salts I keep in the cupboard.” Turning back to the mirror while touching a finger to her lip, she fussed,

“This is great! Just great! We leave today and I look like the losing hen in a fight over an old cock rooster! Shit! ”

Paul stood back, aghast. “Here I thought you were about to die! In fact, I thought you already so! And all you’re worried about is how comely your appearance?! What is it with your kind anyway? Is the whole world crazy?!”

Mihai continued to study her wounds in the mirror, saying nothing. At length, she turned, replying through a painful smile, “It’s about time you noticed one of my better qualities. Yes, we are all quite mad here. How else do you think we could tolerate your kind at all? Always so quick to jump into the pot your kind, not testing the waters first and, speaking of water, will you be kind enough to fix me that bath?”

Reaching up to examine Paul’s injuries, Mihai put on a pout, cooing her remorse that her gallant hero had suffered so this last night. Tilting her head so flirtingly to the side, she kissed him, whispering, “Come, my warrior saint, and assist me with my bath. You, too, should be refreshed in the healing waters of the sacred springs of Diamond Ridge.

There’s plenty of room in the golden tub for us both. Come, my Dear, I shall heal your soul while you also do mine.”

Throwing his hands up in confusion, Paul exclaimed, “I don’t understand! After all this you seek love’s cure? What…”

Mihai silenced him, taking his hand. “How little one understands. Come refresh your soul and spirit. A hot bath of mineral delights helps to heal the flesh. A potion of male delights helps to heal my spirit. Come and I shall seek ways to heal your flesh and spirit as well. We both need a bath.”

Oh, a soak in the tub, what a cure for sore muscles and tired flesh! And the songs of love, what a cure for weary hearts that needed reassurance and healing as well. Closing her eyes after passion’s glory had swept away the night’s troubling dreams, Mihai drifted into a swaddling sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to look into Paul’s concerned face. She squeezed his hand, offering a sleepy, toothy grin. “Give me a moment, Love. I rest in a world of lilacs and apple blossoms and wish not to be waked until the morning high.”

Mihai closed her eyes again, falling into an enchanted sleep. All the while Paul stood guard, holding her hand and softly singing little ditties of love.

* * *

With a snap! and a whir, the two ornately engraved doors of a tramwaiter opened onto a courtyard filled with the early morning noise of a hurried spring day. The sun had just peeked its head over the eastern garden wall, waking insects that droned happy tunes to the golden rays of light. Bees of every sort made melodious love to the colorful spring flowers decorating the deep, rich, jungle-like greenery in this secluded enclave of beauty.

Out from the tramwaiter and into this joyous symphony of sensual delights jumped a handsome man, seeking the company of a most elusive lady friend. His feet merrily tapping a happy beat upon the cobblestone path, Zadar hurried his step toward a humble door still hidden in morning shadows. Unable to hold his excitement in check as he neared, Zadar broke into a little song while his feet skipped along, keeping up the beat.

Oh, how his world had changed in the past few days, the man filled with emotions never before experienced.

Stepping up to a door, the fellow patted his new, smoky-gray blouse and trousers, and then tilted his officer’s kepi, its waxed bill and wide black band glistening bright even in the shadows, until it was just right. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward and gave an ever so soft rap on the door.

“Who is it?! ” a sharp, almost annoyed voice on the other side of that door snapped.

Surprised but alert, Zadar made a quick reply. “It’s Leften… er… Lieutenant Zadar, reporting as requested!” He reached for the door handle.

The same curt voice shouted through the closed door, “You wait there! I’ll be out in a minute.”

Scratching his head while screwing his face up in questioning wonder, Zadar pondered the moment. He did not understand this Trisha creature at all. For nine carefree days, they had wandered the wilderness of Diamond, carrying only the packs on their backs. Trisha was more like a child on holiday than a new commanding officer in charge of the Empire’s army. She and Zadar spent endless hours splashing in the mineral pools, spelunking in hidden caves, and just frolicking in the high desert thickets and canyons.

He smiled to think of the time that Trisha, refusing to listen to his mentoring ways, attempted the crossing of a theoxified streambed, a mineral brook formed deep underground when its waters pass through a substance the children called ‘theoxian’.

When diluted with water, it lowers the temperature of the resulting liquid far below freezing, taking several hours to detoxify after exiting the depths below. The woman had fallen into the chill waters, being swept along by the torrent, becoming totally soaked. A warm fire, comfy woolen blankets, and a few loving hugs…to chase away the cold, of course…and Trisha was fully recovered, ready to take on other adventures.

Like two children on a quest, two peas in a pod, that was how Zadar felt about his relationship with Trisha. Anytime there was a break in the schedule of meetings and official procedures, she and Zadar were off on a run to explore this exciting new land.

Trisha was more childlike than even she could remember. Life was fresh and fun, a joy to be alive. For Zadar this was a most intriguing time, filled with new and unexplained emotions. He smiled to himself. So, this was Heaven, or what it was meant to be? If so, might it never end…

Then there was the journey to Pyre Mountain. Time afforded the duo opportunity to pay a visit upon one of the Diamond’s most outstanding residents, Pyre Mountain, an ever-erupting volcano far to the north of the wilderness’ bubbling springs, nearly a day’s journey by pack animals, but well worth the effort. Beneath the glowing summit, Sulfur Lake lay nestled between two high bluffs, its many boiling springs and excitable geysers creating a wonderland of delights. It was a matter of folklore that one who spent a night resting upon the lake’s misty shores or swam in its deep, iridescent pools was forever changed. Zadar contended the folktales to be more truth than fiction.

It was a long, tiring day making their way to the lake and, after setting up camp for the night, the couple did little other than stroll the shore searching the many steaming pools for sand nuggets, tiny crustaceans said to thrive in the lake’s tepid estuaries. Not only were their shells of beautiful hues, but also it was rumored they were to be savored for their excellent flavor when steamed. Eventually returning to camp with rich rewards for diligent efforts, Zadar had cooked up a feast. They ate until bursting to satisfaction and then reclined in the warm sands near the southern end of the lake.

Long after the sun set and the golden mist was gathering to shroud the shore in its foggy embrace, the two sat, staring at the glowing reflection of Pyre Mountain in the shimmering stillness of Sulfur Lake. Finally, Zadar broke the silence. “I puzzle at my feelings. It is said that this place forever changes people, and the feelings I am now experiencing are definitely strange to me, but I don’t believe them caused by my presence here.” Trisha leaned close until her shoulder touched his, asking him to explain. “Well, I feel strange, like part of me is missing. Yet when you’re near me, the feeling subsides.

My heart hurts, too. Never have I felt it so. Do you know what might be?” Trisha only smiled, offering no hint for a solution.

The following evening, when the sun escaped behind the cliffs, Zadar and Trisha took a long, swimming soak in the frothy waters near a hot spring. Trisha dared the darkness to be seen as she truly was made, enjoying the bubbly foam in the way Lowenah intended for her children. The night was warm, the air sharp and sweet. Saying not a word, she took Zadar’s hand and then tenderly kissed him on the lips. That night they shared their first romance on a moss-laden beach, resting in each other’s arms well into the night. Then, just as silently, Trisha rose, bathed in the nearby cove and, alone, returned to camp.

In the morning, Zadar found Trisha to be distant almost to the point of being rude.

She spoke few words and then only of business yet to be finished and the anticipated journey back. After their return, Trisha was off on official matters, ignoring Zadar until later in the evening, even then, at dinner, speaking to him only in formal conversation.

When the meal was finished and the other officers and guests were retiring for the night, a very nervous Trisha asked Zadar for counsel. They strolled along a grassy path that led down past a peach grove and far from the lights of the lodge.

At length, they came to a parting in the path, an obelisk long fallen at the center of the fork. Taking Zadar’s hand, Trisha asked him to sit. She searched her thoughts for just the right words. “Zadar, this is such a strange world for me, for should we have loved in my old world like we did just yester-eve, my people would have condemned me a harlot. It is so troubling for my heart to relearn that what is really such a beautiful thing between a man and woman is treated with such disgust in my world of old.”

She began to nervously rub her knees. “I love and fear your world…love it for it allows me breath and the freedom…freedom to think without guilt. I fear it because I am confused…confused into believing that I live but a dream and shall awake to the accusations of angry men, cursing me for enjoying life. Is this life real, or will I awake only to find I, too, dreamed here only to have any honest hope for love dashed and ever destroyed?

“Zadar, I have watched the pleasure your people find being lost in acts of love that would be considered lurid and obscene by my people of old, even of those in these current days. And yet your kind practice for others to see the very acts my kind hide in the darkness, behind thick curtains. And to speak of such sensual acts aloud? Why a woman could get her tongue removed for merely whispering such things in secret. And yet here I sit, I, too, at a crossroads, deciding my future fate.”

She took Zadar’s hand, wrapping it up in hers. “I am very fond of you. I dare not say it any other way for now. My eyes have watched. I’ve studied your love-making with the ladies, and many there are. They stand in line as if waiting turn, caring not whose bed you have recently departed, desirous only to be next in sharing your love.

Your passion is unbridled with them, yet you were so gentle with me. In my old world, few men cared for my pleasure, even the best being demanding and harsh. To them, a woman’s body was little more than a warm piece of meat to be skewered upon their manliness.

“Still, old feelings die hard. The thought of one man and woman among my kind was absolute, at least only one man for a woman, she being his property. It is such a strange feeling to overcome, to see and feel love that is based upon what is found in the heart and not in an act of intercourse. So strange to have many lovers, but to be in love with but one, or hold just one so close while sharing the bed with many. It hurts my mind.”

Zadar nodded his understanding. “I was born into a world forlorn and dismayed.

The carefree days of romantic bliss were long trampled in the sands of lies and betrayal.

For me, my coming of age days were filled with explosive sensual desire for the satisfaction of my flesh, I learning not to love a woman as she needed until long into my adulthood. But the women of my early days were patient with me, pandering to my prurient desires until my flesh became filled to satisfaction. Then I began to learn how to love, sensing what my lover wanted without speaking a word to me.

“As I grew, I learned reasons for the laws Mother made to protect your kind in the worlds below. Little more than slaves your kind became, and so badly treated, may I add.

If it had not been for such taboos, what would have been the fate of womankind? Slave pens and brothels, at best, would have been your fate. Anyway, I do see what needs you have and I so much wish to make you happy. I will try to adjust to your feelings, just as my sisters did to mine. I…”

“No! No!” Trisha shook her head. “That is not what I want from you! You must understand that it is I who must rethink my life and this new and strange world that I now live in. Someday I may have many lovers, though the thought of it troubles my heart for the moment. But I do want you to care for your sisters. I see the way they look at you. I would be worse than a thief should I steal you away from them. No, better is a sip of brandy than an empty cask full of dreams. You create much joy in the hearts of many.

Desert your sisters and I will be shamed into deserting you.”

Trisha spoke not another word. She took Zadar’s hand, they slowly journeying back to the lodge, saying their good nights outside her stateroom door. At parting, she kissed her young on the lips, thanking him for a wonderful few days, and then quickly slipped through the door into the darkness within.

Zadar stood stunned, an ever-growing ache only increasing in strength. He departed in a tizzy, his heart floundering between explosive happiness and burning sadness. For several days hence, he found no room for passion with his sisters, feeling the witch’s touch had already condemned him to both their loss and the loss of this new, strange creature his soul found so entrancing. What spell had this woman cast over him and…and why did Mother take so long to give a woman such wonderful powers? May he die happy if he never awoke from such dreamy thoughts.

It was in this trance-like state that Trisha found her new lieutenant before her door.

“Well, who are you?!” she scolded, he not having noticed the door opening.

Zadar jumped to attention, almost hitting Trisha in saluting.

Trisha dodged a flying hand, laughing a reply. “I think you’ll do!” Putting hands on hips, she scrutinized her new officer. Zadar’s uniform of smoky gray was most

becoming, and the long-sleeved, double-breasted blouse and green shell jacket helped him cut quite the picture. Topped off with knee-high riding boots into which his pants were neatly tucked, an ornate kepi, neatly trimmed beard and insignia of adjutant lieutenant, Trisha felt he made quite a good-looking officer. Zadar’s uniform was new standard issue for the field marshal’s staff and other non-field officers.

After some refitting done to Trisha’s uniform at Mihai’s request…Trisha said

‘orders’…the field marshal’s comely appearance was much more evident, something that met Zadar’s full approval. In fact, he was about to comment on its sensual comeliness when Trisha caught him up short.

“Lieutenant,” Trisha’s voice fell stern on Zadar’s ears, her eyes having turned cold, her face sober, “I want you to understand me clearly. It was not by my request that you were chosen to be one of my staff officers. Of course, I accepted the recommendation, the ones making such reassuring me of your fitness as to loyalty and duty. Let me set this straight. There are no favorites in my command. I’ll place you on the skewer as soon as may be if it is your turn to die. As a junior officer on my staff, I expect you to play the part of one.

“You, I have been told, have built up quite a record for military prowess and heroism. I tell you, that is behind you for the moment. A go-fer you are, little errand boy, ‘do this, get me that, another cup of tea, please’, and you will smartly reply, saluting,

‘Yes, General’, ‘Right away, Captain’, ‘Whatever you wish, my Lord’ and so forth. I will show no favoritism to anyone, especially you. I expect you to act in accordance with all the rules of protocol your position calls for, setting an example for all the other junior officers.”

She looked down, rubbing her chin as though in thought. “Of course, a good staff officer…” she stared Zadar in the face, hers betraying a new softness, “a good staff officer should feel free to offer opinion, at the proper time, of course. But still, if that officer were discerning as to when and how it was expressed, that officer would be quite valuable.” She smiled and then quickly frowned.

Quite flippantly, Trisha flatly stated, she waving her hand as though the outcome of her comment was of little concern, “You are a volunteer, as are all officers. As such, you may choose to resign your commission under my command at any time, and may do so now if you wish. Until such time, I am your supreme commander. You are to obey my orders, whatever they may be! Does this junior officer understand clearly?”

Zadar had remained motionless, unable to gather what this woman was all about. He stared down into stern eyes watching his for any visible betrayal of the man’s inner emotions. The fellow was very much upside-down in his feelings. Studying Trisha’s face revealed nothing other than sheer determination to contest anyone who questioned her authority. What was she about? This was truly a strange and dangerous creation, a woman Zadar could neither read nor understand. Not since his younger years had he experienced such opaque emotional feedback from his feminine companions. What was really going on in this person’s mind at the moment?

Zadar thought he was prepared to face whatever his new friend might deliver, despite Mother’s warning, ‘Son, you may one day well regret the assignment I’ve offered you.

Trust me, it will make you grow, if you survive the ordeal.’ She had laughed and then became serious. ‘There are black secrets that you do not know. Even you will be tested to the limit, for the Age of Darkness is much closer to you than you possibly may realize.

Truth revealed - and it all will be - may well destroy a soul, untaught and un-pummeled in every emotional way. This woman may well save your mind and soul when that evil seeks even your heart.’

He swallowed hard. Well, if he were to be pummeled, at least it would be by the one he had come to be so fond of. A lash on the back by a person so cared for was better than a glass of wine given by one hating you. And he knew that Trisha did not hate him. He suddenly came to the realization that this woman was not ordinary for her gender. She had come into this world changed, made into a great weapon, forged while she slept those many years in the Field of the Minds. Her heart was still that of a tender maiden, but her mind? It was hardened into that of a destroyer with a purpose: to bring to nothing all that was become evil in this world at whatever cost to friend or foe alike.

Trisha’s eyes bored into Zadar’s as he contemplated all these things. Finally, after fully accepting the consequences, he smartly saluted, replying, “Lieutenant ZadarFahyVel reporting…your dutiful servant!”

“Good!” Trisha snapped as she frowned again, attempting to hide a smile creeping from the corner of her mouth. Staring into Zadar’s eyes, Trisha’s face took on a reddened hue and she turned to look away, commenting, “Of course, I do not require my officers to be so in their off-duty hours. You, like the others, have freedom to choose how to occupy your time in whatever idle pursuits your heart desires when not on call.”

Suddenly, taking hold of Zadar’s arms, Trisha whirled him around, pushing him against the apartment wall. Pressing her body against his, she snuggled her head on his chest. At length, she peered up and into Zadar’s surprised face, her eyes twinkling while half pleading, “I do so hope you will take notice of me in your spare hours. I do need to be loved and want your soul to refresh mine. I have an ache within me that you have ignited and I hope that you will satisfy it until the fire dies.” Her face flushing red, having not believed the secrets her heart betrayed to this…this man who was still such a stranger to her, Trisha pushed herself away, patting his uniform smooth. Embarrassed, she stared at her feet. “We are expected at breakfast very soon. Will you honor me with your company?”

Zadar nodded, smiling, “My Lady, I will honor you in whatever way you desire.”

Placing her hands on his shoulders and pulling herself up on her toes, Trisha gave Zadar an impassioned kiss, she not caring if anyone saw. No one did. Standing down, she took his hands. “We must take our leave, though I wish it not be so. Tonight I ask your company so that we may discuss what you should do in you off-duty hours.” She winked, and sought out another flirting kiss. Finally, after lingering in each other’s arms, hand in hand, the two departed for the tramwaiter, seeking the company of friends and officers who were patiently waiting them.

(Author’s note: Excerpted from Tabitha Copeland’s work, Dogs of War.