

### The Chronicles of

### Heaven's War:

### Book II

### Burning Phoenix

Published by Ava D. Dohn at Smashwords

Ava D. Dohn

Copyright 2015

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

* * *

Table of Contents **:**

**Section Six:** Hour of the Crow

**Section Seven:** Uncertain Morning

**Section Eight:** Of Trolls and Fated Roads

**Section Nine:** Children of the Tempest

**Section Ten:** Whispers of the Kriggerman

### Section Six:

Hour of the Crow

'My dearest TereoAprupneo,

The universe is changing and will never again be the same. A new day is dawning that both excites me and fills me with trepidation. We are no longer the masters of our destiny, but merely soldiers who will carry the banners of coming warlords. They are new and strange, having minds different from ours. They not only hate the enemy, mind I say, an enemy whose names and faces they have never known or loved, they also have a righteous indignation against that foe burning in their souls. Our old ways mean nothing to them. Indeed, I believe they view our old ways as useless baggage carried by romantic fools who desire to live in the past.

My Terey, you once lamented that our voices no longer roll with fear-inspiring thunder. I believe these people will return that thunder to us, but at a cost that causes me to shudder with unease. The heavens will be soaked with the blood of our brothers and sisters before the thunder quiets, and our old ways will lie trampled in the dust forever. They will redefine the meaning of war and will carry to new heights the arts and designs of slaughter.

To us, Lowenah is our mother. To these newcomers, she is their God. Their former mindset of worshipful devotion was not left behind when they entered our realm. A zealotry born out of that worship drives them in ways unknown to us. It gives them an energy that does not rest, that does not sleep. It envelops them with an all-consuming fire that will not be extinguished, but that will set this entire universe ablaze. They have become an inferno that will not die down until all of the enemies of their God are burned to forgotten cinders.

This fire begets fire. I watched at the council meeting. The younger ones among our kind are being caught up in this blaze for war. A hatred and bloodlust is growing in them. I fear what I see, and yet I know I must allow it to grow and develop. We, my dear Terey, are the Old Guard. We must become young again. We must support the changes taking place. What we are seeing arise is a new creation - a creation that will save us from ourselves and will finish, in its way, what was started so long ago. I believe we are witnessing the birth of the new Dragons.

With the deepest of affection,

Your sister and loving companion,

MihaiProiosAstron'

Lovingly folding her letter written on the finest of linen paper and slipping it into an envelope made from that same paper, her hands having carefully crafted it, Mihai sat back, sighing. Now for the wax seal... Everything must be perfect for a most cherished companion. Lifting a burning, flaxen candle made from the comb of the hoarfrost bee, Mihai tilted it so that several drops of the melted wax fell upon the envelope's closed leaf, instantly beginning to congeal. Quickly placing the candle back on her writing desk, she took her signet ring and pressed it into the hardening crimson wax, securing her seal upon it.

Blowing out the candle and picking up the letter, Mihai stepped from her tiny officer's cabin into the long, shadowy companionway of the imperial frigate, DishonPele. All navy ships ran on Palace Time. It now being late evening according to that time, the ship was darkened as though it were traveling in the blackness of night. The woman laughed to herself. Here she was hundreds or possibly thousands of light years from EdenEsonbar, on course for a distant star system in the neutral zone far beyond the eastern territories that, itself, was many light years yet away, and she was walking toward the baggage room to hand deliver a letter that was to be transported by fast packet and then hand delivered to her dear companion, Terey, when, instead, she could go to the communications room to send her message out, it being received possibly in a day or even less.

(Author's note: _'Light year' was a terminology used once by the Ancients long before Mihai's birth, and now only spoken about in the books of adventure and tales. The study of what is now referred to as 'neutrino transfusing cyclotronics', the first fundamental building block of mathematical theory known as 'EbenCeruboam NTC', as neutrino transfusing cyclotronics was often referenced, proposed that since matter and energy were one and the same, then energy and energy were one and the same. Thus all things pertaining to energy – gravity, time, space, and location (distance) were also one and the same, given that all things came from one unified source energy (oneness) and had been split – as though through a spectrum – to become many different things. So, one need only transfuse the desired thing back through the spectrum, returning it to its_ _true being and then convert it again into something different by passing it back through that spectrum at a different moment of angle and poof! the laws surrounding that particular form of energy could be circumvented to achieve the intended goal._

The practiced study of NTC led to the development of navigation systems able to read the stars, i.e. change the energy fields surrounding a space transport into non-readable forms of energy, thus allowing the transport to operate outside common universal laws. With implementation of this theory, jumping nearby star systems soon became practical. Later, with the discovery of jump portals, along with advanced NTC technology, distant ranges within the galaxy also became reachable, opening up the universe to Lowenah's ever-inquisitive children.

This was ancient history by Mihai's day, being part of the discoveries made by the children early in the First Age.)

Mihai shrugged. This seemed to be the way with everything. Her people just could not let go of the old to embrace the new. Well, why should they? For example, the horse had become not only one of the children's most precious tools, but also closest of animal companions. Long-lived hybrids of seventy or eighty years were now common, they being used to this day in every form of service from giant draft animals to fine, prancing, riding mounts. Even now, nearly every navy ship, be it cutter to carrier, was equipped with stables for the safe transportation of horses.

Regarding crafts of war, her people were no different. Solid projectile and energy weapons abounded, with even more advanced designs awaiting life, sitting upon the draftsmen's tables. Still the children charged into battle with sword and axe and, oh yes, bow and arrow. While scientific application had lifted many of these weapons such as the derker blade and jillson bolt up to the status of technical marvels, even those inventions were ancient long before the Great War. The lanner, a contrivance of villainy born in Mihai's mind, was only a more efficient and compact version of handheld energy weapons in use for many millennia.

Mihai puzzled over why her people were so absorbed in such foolishness. It had cost them battles at times and so many squandered lives. She shuddered as a chill ran down her back, thinking of countless, fruitless assaults made by brave warriors charging into the jaws of certain death, wielding little more than sword and shield. Why did they do it, yet do it?

Glancing down at her hand holding the letter, Mihai sadly smiled, remembering. Food, clothing, and shelter were necessities needed to keep the flesh alive. All other things were to sustain soul and spirit. Acquiring needs for the flesh was animalistic, all creatures seeking such a reward. But for the children of the Maker of Worlds, the human heart must be satisfied above all other desires. Without that desire fulfilled, life of the flesh would have no meaning.

The letter Mihai was delivering to her sister and companion was not merely some compressed flaxen fiber sprinkled with a little ink. No, it was a small piece of her soul being delivered to someone she loved dearly, a gift that could be held close to the heart on those lonely nights when little hope remained in a dark and troublesome world. It was spirit food, something as important to the survival of her people as were all the grain fields and orchards within the universe. It was this longing for the spirit foods that made them human, but it also threatened their very existence.

The enemy long ago threw away this nostalgic spirit of the heart, replacing it with a vision of a new world ruled over by their supreme god, Asotos. His promise was one of deliverance into a future of increased enlightenment and understanding, one where 'all people could attain to the immortality denied them by the wicked usurper holding captive the secret powers hidden deep within the confines of the Palace'. First must come success in war - the defeat of the Witch Mother and her misguided urchins, then would come the revival of the spirit to a new and unimagined level of theosophical glory.

Privations forced upon the people of Asotos' kingdom did not weaken their resolve, at least for those who accepted as truth the religion preached by the Worm and his priests. The future! The future! Their reward was always in the future. The spirit would be made fat with satisfaction sometime in the future, but first must come sacrifice to attain that future. For the enemy, the coming reward replaced the spirit food from the past that was still so cherished by the loyal children of Lowenah, she who had not offered empty promises, saying instead there were no guarantees, and that their destiny rested upon choices made.

Mihai pondered these two opposing ideologies as she slowly made her way toward the baggage room. Who really were the children of these Upper Realms? For countless ages, the children lavished upon themselves every form of selfish pleasure imagined, having no guilt, not fearing any divine retribution other than say a dizzying, sickly hangover, or possible bruise or broken bone. Life had been delivered up as each one chose it, without consideration of the future or consequences. At least that was the way Mihai saw it in her heart.

Now her world was filled with loss and guilt \- loss of innocence, of companions, of beauty and art, of certainty, of everything that made up what her life had always been about. From that fateful day Asotos tore her body and soul asunder down to this hour, Mihai's world was filled with uncertainty, doubt and guilt. Yes, guilt...guilt for allowing the evil man into her heart, guilt for living while so many of her lovers and companions had not, guilt for wishing for the pleasantries of the past while not wanting the hidden realities of the future. She fought these wars, led Lowenah's children into the depths of Hell, indeed, sacrificed all things in her life, not for a new future, but for a hopeful return to the past. Oh, to forget all the evil and return to the days of innocence!

And yes, as the woman sighed, there was also this guilt for a growing numbness of feeling nothing... pain, love, hate, passion...whatever feeling that made her human. The war, the war...it had drained her strength and her peoples'. Six millennia of rape, wanton murder and torture had changed them...her. Drinking to forget was common, many of the army's best having resigned themselves to the bottle for courage and valor, and no one seemed to care, other than a few stuffed shirts at the Councils. Even Mihai managed to turn a blind eye to the suffering, at times finding herself surrounded by the gore and misery of battle, thinking only of the temporal victory won and not the destruction of so many of her companions.

Mihai shook away her bad visions, lamenting silently. If this warring lasted much longer, would her soul even continue to exist? Or might she, too, become little more than the animalistic creatures that seek at all cost only the protection of the flesh, hiding from the day to utter in the darkness amoral platitudes of hunger and desire without having care for even like of kind, to preserve her flesh alive to satisfy only her prurient desires, giving no consideration to the welfare of friend or lover?

A barely noticeable shudder ran along the companionway of DishonPele. The pulsing vibrations of the ship's two massive engines slowed and then picked up again. Mihai stopped, listening.

"We must be nearing the Milentian Nebula and correcting course to line up on the Lenexion star systems." The woman muttered, sadly remembering thousands of broken hulks from the Day of Tears still haunting that region. She attempted to push away sordid visions of fire and death, of invasion plans gone awry, mistakes made, foolish blunders. Twenty thousand souls slaughtered in one hour... one hour, because she misdirected a communiqué.

Mihai swore, disgruntled, "Fuck it!" and stormed off.

The woman swore a lot more these days, didn't like it, but did it anyway. Took the pressure off, she guessed. Didn't drink though, well, like the others did to forget, or just not feel maybe. She felt, all too painfully felt. Swearing made her feel more like she was in control, put things in perspective, in charge and less the victim. It was better than drinking to forget the memories always lurking in the shadows of her mind.

Stepping from the companionway through a narrow door, Mihai took the boson's stairs that spiraled downward into the bowels of the ship, exiting two levels below onto the colonnade deck. The colonnade ran two-thirds the length of DishonPele, was two full spans of a man's outstretched arms wide, and the ceiling as high as a man's reach. Well lit, with six movable double bulkheads sunken into the walls, a person got the feeling of expanse when standing in this long, wide corridor, unlike claustrophobic intrusions forced upon their senses elsewhere in the confines of this frigate of war.

(Author's note: _DishonPele, formerly known as 'Omri' before the end of the Great War, was built during a temporary interlude of peace some time before that war began. It was an evolutionary machine, caught somewhere between the demise of the dreadnaught and the birth of the modern ship of war, being somewhat a misfit child of both concepts. So it was that many spaces aboard the ship were narrow and cramped, while a portion was built to create the feeling of terrestrial living, thus the colonnade deck with its intruding half-columns along the colonnade and many double-door galleries off it. It was believed this approach to internal ship architecture might well ease the cabin fever often experienced during deep space travel._

_This idea did not prove itself but, by its very nature of design, weakened the integrity of the ship when confronted with the ravages of battle. By the time of this prisoner exchange, DishonPele had received many a rebuild, the only thing remaining of the original colonnade deck being the long, opened passage of the colonnade, minus the contrived pillars. The expansive galleries were cut down in size to make room for additional storage and a new, reinforced double hull, leaving smaller, single-door wardrooms exiting onto the slightly altered colonnade. Still, the colonnade was the fastest and most efficient way to gain access to other parts of the ship. Even with refits, DishonPele was relegated primarily to backwater and livery duties during the Great War, Command believing it unfit for frontline service._ )

Mihai liked DishonPele, meaning 'Mother's little love', a name she had requested it be given when she booked its passage to EremiaPikros for the signing of the armistice at the end of the Great War, which was also its current destination, for this prisoner exchange. The ship suited her needs well for such journeys, plenty of conference rooms, private nooks, several rooms for conversion to sleeping cabins, and lots of places to hide when the child within wished to be alone.

Quiet, late night sounds of a sleeping ship echoed in Mihai's ears. The 'click, click, click' of the duty officer's hard-soled boots as they paced the deck reverberated along the passageway, keeping mystical tempo with the hum and whirr of distant motors and servos. Combining with these sounds was the steady pulsing of the ship's mighty engines, singing out in all their majestic power - a pleasant symphony of reassurance that all was well. Sensing the melody, Mihai stepped up the pace until the heels of her boots clicked in happy harmony with the music of the ship.

As she passed a small officers' canteen, its warm, beckoning, golden lights standing out in sharp contrast to the many closed doors or cold, darkened rooms along the colonnade, Mihai chanced a glance inside. Instantly she stopped, spying Zadar sitting silently at one of the eatery's little tables.

"Hello!" Mihai offered, a hint of surprise in her voice. She leaned forward, grasping the side of the doorway. "What are you doing up at this late hour? Have you lost your comforter so quickly?"

Zadar snapped to, as if being waked from a dream. He had not heard Mihai's questions, but did return a toothy smile while motioning to a nearby chair. "Oh...Mihai, it's always so good to see you, and I must say you look enchanting tonight. Where's your fellow, and shouldn't he be concerned you might find another suitor should he allow you to wander these halls alone?"

Mihai replied that Paul had little to fear, and shared the reason for her journey into the heart of the sleeping ship. "I so wanted to send this letter by Postal today. When I discovered the early hour of the packet's arrival, I forced the moment and abandoned my fellow to the loneliness of a quiet room, to first write this love letter and then deliver it to the post. I did, then, promise to make a return and give him a worthy reward for his longsuffering patience."

Still extending a hand, encouraging Mihai to sit awhile, Zadar asked, "I know the hour is late, but the packet will not arrive until the morning watch. And I also do believe that your fellow will continue to persevere should you fail to deliver yourself until the dawning light. Will you please take your leave to sit with me for a bit? I have need of my sister's counsel, for I am at a total loss."

Mihai would have laughed, Zadar usually being such a tease, but she saw in his eyes that the man was deeply troubled. Stepping into the room and sliding into the chair across the tiny table, she cooed, "Always for you, dear little brother." She then asked if something was amiss.

"I thought..." Zadar frowned staring down at his cup, finally picking it up and aimlessly swirling the remaining contents round and round. "I mean... well..." He set the cup back down and took Mihai's hand, his eyes searching hers. "I love you... At least I think I love you. I hurt over you, fear for you, even pine at times for you. You're special to me, but so is Darla and...and so many, many, of my sisters. I ache over the loss of Sirion, wishing that she is soon returned to us alive and well."

Quiet frustration grew in his voice. "I thought I was in love. It is love, isn't it? I can be in love with many women, can I not? This I have always believed. I mean, if something bad happens to one of my sisters, I weep from the burning ache within my heart. And...and I do care for my sisters' well-being, desiring to be close to them, and not just in our lovemaking."

He clenched a fist. "I thought I understood love, I mean real love, lasting love. But this woman has screwed up my head, turned me upside-down. When I'm close to her, all the universe is at peace, time does not exist, my heart sings drunk with merry tunes. And when she's away... well, I have trouble thinking about other things when she's not near."

Squeezing her companion's hand, Mihai drew close until her face was only inches from his. "Sweet One, I have shared my dreams with more lovers than days you have lived. Each one I loved, pined for, wished the moment would never end when in that person's wonderful arms. I have wept, seeing former lovers dead upon the field of battle, even when they had joined the enemy camp. Love is such a queer thing, a kaleidoscope of emotion that is too scattered to understand. One can only learn to ride those reckless beams of emotion, trying not to understand what they're all about."

Mihai cooed, "No one has ever questioned your love, your romance. Few are the men I have impassioned my heart over who can love as deeply as you. Your dreams are honest and real. You have the most sincere heart of any man I know."

Zadar leaned forward, softly kissing Mihai on her lips. "Other than the Lady, there is no one like you who can lift my spirits, arouse my passions as you can. This woman I speak of has not done such a thing, she not being learned in the ways of lovemaking. She screws up my heart, not my passions. That is also a puzzle to me, for she has made it clear that I should not forsake loving my sisters or I would offend her."

Puzzled, Mihai asked, "Do you think she cares not for your love, and is trying to be polite? You know, the ways of our people are so different from the ways of her world. Maybe she doesn't under..."

"Oh, no," Zadar answered emphatically, "the woman has confessed to me that no other man has stolen her heart as I have done. She cries when she speaks of her love for me." He shook his head. "But she's so strange, mystical - fire and ice. I ache with a fear that our love will pass away and I will not desire love again."

He gathered Mihai's other hand up and held them both tightly in his. "You understand the mind-share so well, knowing it is a release for the heart, in times both good and bad. In times of trouble, a mind-share is comforting and consoling. Many times my sisters have sought me out to dream with them after they have lost a close companion, it letting them ease the pain of death that weighs so heavily on their hearts. Dear sister, how many dreams have you and I shared? Hundreds? Many more, I do believe." Mihai smiled, nodding.

Zadar waxed, frustrated, "The first time we shared each other's love at Sulfur Lake, I could not see into Trisha's mind, couldn't find a way to get in. All the while I felt a raging inferno boiling within her breast, secrets so vile they tortured her mind and soul, but she refused my succor. Then, last night we shared passionate love, but again she sealed her soul from me, and when I probed to find a way into her heart, the wrath of her angry resistance was fierce and condemning.

"Yet later, in the quiet morning hours, she confessed that never had she been loved by a man as she had by me. So confusing... Even more confusing, when we waked, she quickly dressed in the darkness and scooted from our cabin. She then filled the day with tiresome activities until well after the dinner hour, the woman being in a sour mood all that time. When we had finally dined, she feigned need for late night business, telling me not to wait up. When she did not return at all, only a little while ago I came here to seek out a companion." He glanced into his cup, admitting sadly, "but I think it, too, has grown cold."

"Well..." Mihai pondered what she was hearing. "It might just be a simple case of bashful guilt. You know, the people of Trisha's world are the queerest of creatures when it comes to dealing with feelings. Your lady may well have enjoyed delicious interludes with you so much that it made her heart feel that something that good must certainly be wicked. Now she's off a' hiding, trying to wrap her mind around the conflict of emotions racing about inside her.

"Look, Love..." Mihai released Zadar's hold and took one of his hands, pulling it down to the table, cupped in one of hers. Stroking his opened palm with the fingers of her other hand, she mused, "Rules, yes, rules and laws, especially made up by a bunch of religious fools – and believe me when I say the spiritual leaders of Trisha's world are all a bunch of arrogant fools – they make up all kinds of stupid rules that suit their fancy. Pulls 'em out of their a... Well, you know what I mean.

"These rules all made are divine, of course, directly from God. To them, perfection is all based on control, a perfect person having perfect control. That's one reason they rejected me when I visited that world. Those fools say that if it feels good, it must be evil, must be controlled. They say that God only made us feel good things to test us out to fitness. We must control those feelings because they are really evil...from God, but evil. Then, after their dogma of control has been fully established, they shove it down the throats of the common people, causing those common folk to feel guilty about everything they feel that's good."

She looked up into Zadar's face, the man hanging on her every word. "It screws up the brain, makes people live by law instead of love and moral responsibility. Takes a long time to get it out of the head. I was only there for three years or so, knowing who I really was for that little while, and I still had my mind screwed up after returning here." She pointed toward her head. "It screws you up, really screws you up..."

Raising an eyebrow, she explained, "The more wonderful the emotion, the more evil it must be, thus the great need to control, and the greater the sin if broken. The most powerfully enjoyable of these prurient acts, I believe, is that of lovemaking, it bringing two people into the state of truly becoming one, thus into a divine body. Yet, by the rules of arrogant men, it has become unholy to share that gift with someone not delivered up to the other by law. Screw love! The people of that world sell sex, steal sex, barter sex, and pervert sex but, by the strictest of laws, it must never be shared freely without the approval of law."

Scowling, Mihai looked down at Zadar's hand. "The very people who profess me as their god...the fools would stone me and you and all the other angels for whom they express respect and devotion should they know how we share our love. Mother made us able to enjoy romance with many lovers – one size fits all, you might say – but, in Trisha's world, it's ever-always one man for the woman, or it will be eternal damnation for her.

"Your girl painfully remembers the penalty for breaking those stupid laws. She lives in our world now, but her spirit still lingers in her old one, wondering at times if unbridled love is truly a reality here or but a dream. Trisha might well be afraid that one day she will wake from that dream and find out it was all a heart-breaking mistake. It is also a possibility that the Trisha's heart is not yet convinced this is its new reality, and is fighting the illusion by flooding the woman's soul with feelings of guilt."

Zadar agreed. "The things you say are not new to me, but you do manage to weave your thoughts into a tapestry of understanding that my mind and heart have not yet knitted together. The evil past of her world has certainly ruined so much of her carefree innocence. I have felt that evil lurking behind her shrouded veil of secret thoughts, but I do believe there's even more to her disquieting moods."

Mihai squeezed Zadar's hand, waiting upon him to explain.

"My dearest sister," Zadar looked into Mihai's eyes, concerned, "this is not an ordinary prisoner exchange. No one says it's so, but there's a disturbing undercurrent that flows deep within the hearts of those who understand it to be, and so it is with this woman troubling my heart. She's been agitated over coming events since the last council, her anxiety only growing in intensity since our departure.

"Mihai, I think the woman is on a mission of sorts, feeling the weight of the universe pressing down on her. She does not speak of it, brushes if off when I have mentioned it, but the woman comports herself as one does when mentally preparing for an upcoming battle. My Love, tell me, what lies down this road we are on? Whispers I've heard spoken in the dark hint that we possibly walk into a world of hopelessness and damnation, that the future of the universe hangs upon a thread, and we walk on a knife's edge of uncertainty - the reason, some believe, for Mother's presence."

Mihai offered a toothy smile of reassurance that not to be the case, hiding her private trepidation over the coming hour of darkness. "I'm sure it will be little different than past exchanges. You know, the Worm's haggling over the value of the goods delivered for swap, his accusations of how badly his people were mistreated, his attempts at goading us into doing something so that he can cry 'insult' or 'indiscretion' thus depriving us of a few more of our trade goods to gain his succor. Mother only comes along because the Wastepipe has requested she be there."

While Zadar contemplated her lengthy answer, Mihai silently pondered what she was told about Trisha. It had been decided by the council that the new field marshal was to act as herald, official voice of the council, Mihai being the chiliarchos, or commanding chief, remaining silent, as was the custom, unless taking private counsel with her herald. A hopeless feeling swept her heart. Oh, how much she missed Gabrielle, the person who had been chiliarchos until Mihai became field marshal, Gabrielle then taking over title as Mihai's herald.

What was TrishaQaShaibJal up to anyway? Mother had appointed the woman field marshal against Mihai's wishes, but Mother was not to be denied when the mood was on her. Maybe Trisha was a good military strategist and leader. Still, being good at war did not necessarily make one competent with political intrigues, and this prisoner exchange would be filled with them. And it was not Mother who requested Trisha stand in for Mihai as herald at the upcoming negotiations. The council, by a majority vote of the twenty-four, decided that by a small margin.

This Trisha was a sly fox, at least when Mother was dabbling in her head. There would be no dabbling at the prisoner exchange, could not. Mother promised she would not interfere with her magic - that was at least what Asotos called it. Trisha would be on her own, all her inexperience revealed for the whole world to see. Mihai could only imagine what disasters awaited them once Asotos started toying with the woman.

Maybe this was one of Mother's tests. She was quite fond of them, especially when her children were unsuspecting. Why, Mihai had been tested just the other day regarding the kingship. Possibly Mother was again testing her out concerning the new royal position she now possessed. Could be... Whatever, she must prepare just in case she was called upon to pull this prisoner exchange out of the fire. Mother would be watching closely. She would be expecting her new king to rescue the moment and save the day.

Mihai finally offered, "Why don't I, on the morrow, seek out this lady of yours and have a personal, private conversation with her. Maybe she will confess to me what's troubling her heart so. I might even be able to draw her feelings out so that we... you will better understand what's going on with her. I'll be happy to help."

Zadar grinned, squeezing Mihai's hand. "You are so kind to me!" He sadly shook his head. "The men of her world, even Paul, make light of my feelings, at times thinking they are somewhat humorous. To them, my trials are commonplace, part of growing into manhood. I am long since grown into manhood, and I have already loved to the full some of the women of that world and been loved by them, satisfying their spirits in every way. Commodore CythereaNoah'ha will attest to that fact, she and I sharing love's intimacies from before the demise of Atlanticia down to this final age."

He stared down at his cold cup of brew. "No, they just don't understand, can't relate." Then he looked deeply into Mihai's eyes. "But you do, always have. Thank you. Thank you for taking time with me tonight, and for your offer to talk with Trisha. It's deeply appreciated. If there's something I can do for you, sister...Love...let me know and I will see it done."

At that moment there was a quiet commotion at the door. A midshipman recently reunited with her fellow duty officer who had just come off watch. The two were in the doorway, sensually assisting each other out of uniform, so absorbed in their romantic interlude they failed to notice Mihai and Zadar. As the swooning midshipman rolled her head back while her lover tenderly played his lips up and down her neck, she spied the two sitting at the table.

"Dear...Dear," the woman lovingly cooed, as she gently pushed the man away, "we have company. It's not polite to ignore their presence, you know."

The man stood back, his smile growing when seeing who was at the table. After his hellos, he took the woman's hand and entered the room. In a few minutes, with their arms full of culinary delights, they departed, offering friendly goodbyes, the woman's sensuous laughter echoing back through the doorway until they exited the Colonnade.

The two sat there in silence for some time, Zadar choosing to drink up the cold brew, not wanting to waste it. At length, Mihai broke the silence. "Zadar...Love, is it true you will do anything for me?"

Zadar grinned. "For you, my dear one, my death itself would be a reward if that was what you desired of me."

Mihai shuddered. "Please, Love, let us not think of death this day. Still, my request may be quite dangerous and troublesome."

"Anything...anything at all for you," he laughed. "Name it, just name it."

Mihai's smile disappeared, her face clouding with gloom and dread as she spoke in little above a whisper, "My dreams are getting bad, real bad. I am losing my control over them, they even sneaking into my waking hours. I gave my dreams to Tabitha the first night of our journey, that quieting my demon a bit. I believe it was curious, knowing little about the newly arrived creature from another world.

"I have hidden my soul in Paul's strength these nights since, but the demon cares not, fears not the man...one day, but not yet. For two nights I have not slept well. I ache from fatigue and stress that attacks my constitution. I cannot afford to be lacking sharp thought and prowess at this coming exchange. I need a man with great strength and the wiles to use it."

She leaned close, her eager eyes hungrily searching his. "I sent Paul away to Tabitha's arms this night, feigning her need for his attention, but truth be told, I did not know what to do. You have arrived as my hero, for I know that you have mastery over the beast that plays inside my head. Will you journey with me into Damnation to fight my demon and its evil horde?"

A look of eager anticipation grew on Zadar's face. Like a warrior preparing for the contest he became, laughing, "You ask so little. I've desired a good fight for some time. Let's have at it. You and me together? Who can stand against us?"

Mihai sighed, relieved, her shoulders slumping as she relaxed to think she might gain a little peaceful sleep. "Thank you, my dearest love. Be patient. You have a way with the women. Trisha will one day come to understand the true value of the dream share."

"One day..." Zadar said wistfully, holding Mihai's hand. "But I must also gain mastery over my own understanding and her...and her ways. Not tonight, though. I will be thinking only of you and our mission together. Let's be off to conquer the demon's house."

"First I must deliver this." Mihai took up the letter. "Come, my hero, let me deliver this to its owner, and then you, I request, deliver me up to your passionate dreams."

Laughing, the two stood, Zadar starting to assist Mihai out of her uniform, the woman rolling her head with delight as he tenderly kissed her neck. Then it was quickly down the hall to the baggage room and up another set of stairs to Mihai's sequestered cabin.

* * *

Lowenah's repeated rapping on the stateroom door elicited no response. She was not in the mood to be ignored and her patience was wearing thin. "Ardon, dear, it's Mother. Please allow me your indulgence. The morning has long passed by the waking hour and I have not seen my little darling this day or any since beginning our adventure, though I've requested his company to breakfast with me many times now. Please allow me entrance, dear one."

No answer was returned.

Lowenah's sufferance of Ardon's self-imposed exile was about run out. "You may secret your heart from me, child, but you cannot hide from the one giving you life!" She swept her hand across the face of the locked panel door. Instantly there was a whirr and _snap!_ as tiny gears and tumblers sprang into action, freeing the door's restraints.

Slowly sliding the panel back, Lowenah peeked her head into the little cabin. Ardon did not look up, but sat on the narrow cot next to a tiny table, pretending to be absorbed in some important paperwork. Silently stepping through the doorway and quietly closing the panel, Lowenah stood there studying her son. After some little time passed, Ardon continuing to ignore her, she stepped over and sat down beside him on the cot.

Ardon still did not respond, only feigning to concentrate all the more on his papers. Lowenah tenderly placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Resting her head on him, she waxed lonely, "Please, my lovely darling, speak to the one who loves you so much. Did I not create the very moons of Chrusion just to satisfy the wandering heart of my son? You know there is nothing I would not do for you. Please, do not make me pine for your love and attention."

There was little response from Ardon, other than his shoulders slumped some, involuntarily welcoming Lowenah's gentle touch. She ever so tenderly began to massage Ardon's tense muscles, playing her silent, hypnotic songs with musical fingers as her breathing kept tempo with the soft strokes and caresses. Few could resist Mother's gentle persuasions. The fellow would have to come around soon. Just be patient and wait upon the moment.

It was not long before Lowenah's magic gradually took effect. Eventually, Ardon set down his quill, sighing long and sad as he turned his lonely eyes away from the papers. Staring across the room, he asked, "Mother, do you recall the day when my brother attempted my murder while I blocked his path to get at my sister, Mihai?"

Lowenah cuddled close, rubbing her cheek on Ardon's arm, quietly answering, "Yes... yes, I do. You were such a brave man that day, standing up to all those evil villains who had come to harm my little girl."

Ardon's head sank, hiding his face from Lowenah. "I was brave maybe, but very foolhardy. If it weren't for Chisamore's sudden appearance, I doubt I would have survived. He saved me that day."

"Yes." Lowenah closed her eyes, remembering. "Yes, dear, it was just outside the palace wall. They wanted Mihai, you know. It's true that Chisamore and his company saved the day, but if you had not been there to hold them up awhile, well, I don't know if he would have arrived in time to save my little girl."

Ardon rested his hand on Lowenah's knee, sadness growing in his heart. "I miss him, you know, miss him so much. Chisamore understood me. I think he was the only one who ever did." He wiped away a tear. "He and Mihai, do you remember how they used to play at the councils, especially at the festivities after, and how they always made sure I was included in the party-making, seeking out my company for no other reason than to be with me?"

Reaching down and placing her hand over Ardon's, Lowenah whispered, "Those were good times, my lovely one. I had almost forgotten those good times."

Nodding, Ardon lamented, "Now I have lost Mihai. She hates me, wants nothing to do with me again, ever."

"Mihai? No, son, that's not true." Lowenah replied reassuringly.

He turned toward her, tears streaming down his face. "Yes, she does! And it's all over that Darla creature! I understand now that I was out of line with proper protocol, but such an indiscretion should be understood by these...these military people. I'm not a military person. I don't know these things."

Lowenah inquired, "But what of Rachel? I have heard that you assaulted the child when she was only doing her duty."

Ardon vehemently disagreed. "I did not assault her! She had that nasty weapon and pointed it at me! Oh, yes, I did overreact a bit, but the creature needed to understand that I am unfamiliar with procedures regarding ships and captains and all that military stuff. I had the welfare of my people in mind, no more than that."

In anguished remorse, he cried, "I have pondered that morning these several days since and I still do not understand all the fuss. How could a trivial event become so blown out of proportion? No one told me you had assigned that person to captain Shikkeron, only to tidy it up a bit. I didn't even know Bedan wasn't on board yet. I believe that Euroaquilo and Mihai are so smitten with their little darling that they don't see the possible danger that exists within. It's there! I've witnessed it! Even at the space port, I witnessed it!"

Lowenah leaned back, gently rubbing Ardon's shoulders as he slumped forward with folded arms resting on his legs. "Hmmm... My, my, it does sound so, so wearisome." After some reflection, she kindly offered, "My wonderful little child, it is not the helmsman, alone, who safely navigates murky shoals on a dark and moonless night, but the sounder who casts for deep waters, and the lookout high on the mast who ever searches the horizon for hints of shadow or light. The mind, my dear, always pilots our ship of understanding however dark the night might be, but without the heart sounding the true depth of matters, and our eyes perceiving those same matters with great insight, we may never reach our goal, but flounder upon the rocky shoals of life's misfortunes."

Not understanding Lowenah's little proverb, Ardon fussed, defensive. "It is all well and good to wrap oneself in the guidance of many counselors when issues complex and ominous lurk in the surging tempest, but those counselors must be wise to the dangers hiding beneath. A person must use intellect with wisdom gained to see beyond the surface to find the deeper things. A good counselor will not allow blind emotions to muddy the waters further."

Lowenah kindly chided Ardon, "Listen and learn something. I do not speak of many counselors, but of one body using all that it possesses - a heart, mind, and soul...love, knowledge, and wisdom. There is but one ship, one person, but many are the crew, and many are the parts making up the person. All the crew is necessary for the survival of the ship, and all the parts of the person are essential should that person desire to avoid calamity. Wise intellect alone will lead to disaster when strange waters and fearsome winds seek the vessel's destruction."

She looked Ardon in the face, explaining, "A blind man may hear the sound of roaring winds, but not understand that it is a twisting tempest bearing down on him. A man knowing deep matters may well come to ruin, because he has not seen the raging storm on the horizon. And an insightful man may well rent his ship asunder, because the rip current throws his ship upon the rocks."

Waving a finger as she spoke, Lowenah admonished, "You must learn to use a reasoning heart and insightful eyes along with all your knowledge and intellect if you wish to see success and gain understanding into why Euroaquilo and Mihai protect your sister - yes, your little sister. She is not a creature to be pitied like a sick puppy. Empathy is found in an understanding heart, something, my lovely one, I do not think you have yet chosen to discover within yourself."

Ardon answered, confused, "I do not know what to look for within myself, for I have lacked for nothing all these many days from the founding of my time. Discoveries, I find, must be searched for, anticipated by applying knowledge with the spirit of sound reasoning that something more must also exist. Otherwise, one merely stumbles aimlessly through life, crashing into every little obstacle that comes along, never discovering the meaning of the universe."

"My dear child," Lowenah raised an eyebrow "when a captain sees only the mystic light on the horizon, believing that to be the sole point of discovery, his ship may well sail headlong into a hidden obstacle that will bring him and his ship ruin. Constantly must he be searching for what he does not know exists. Often it will be those unknowns that will determine a person's fate, for good or ill."

Ardon smiled, approvingly, "All the better to be focused on what one is searching for!"

Lowenah fumed, "Child, don't tell me you're that daft! Do not counsel me according to my wisdom! I do not speak with empty prattle, but seek the level of understanding of the one I am talking to. You may think yourself a great and wise counselor, but far greater was AsreHalom's knowledge and insight, to the point of achieving the immortal realms through self-induced visions and dreams. Yet he fell into eternal darkness for refusing to see hidden realities. Little difference do I see between him and you, except your heart is innocent and true to me. Do not think, though, that your logic has preserved your soul alive down to this day. If logic and understanding gave life, then AsreHalom and Chrusion would long ago have gained, in reality, to the worlds of the Immortals. Now listen and learn!"

Lowenah leaned back, frowning. "I will now speak to you at your level of understanding. You do not know a thing about the heart! You are stubbornly resistant to believing in or, at best, indifferent to its power and strength, not understanding that the universe itself is built upon the outpourings of the heart...my heart. Yes, it was through my tears and desire for love that I built these worlds that you search for your understanding. I wanted someone to love and to love me...not someone built by nature to love me, but to love me by one's own will after discovering that part of my soul within them."

Lowenah's mood was up now. She was not going to allow Ardon to escape, thinking he knew all about himself. "Yes, I tore from my very soul the power of life and cast it to the winds, having faith that I could create others like myself who would gather the power of that essence to themselves and return it to me through their like love. Sadly, there were none, not even my darling Tolohe or my child PalaHar, they both understanding the depth of the Universal Web, who chose to understand me. You I loved, but out of dismay, for you could see only the power of my glory as seen through simple eyes."

She cast her gaze toward the floor. "It was not until my very own daughter, Michael, gave to me her love that I was rewarded with a child who understood me, could feel my soul with hers. That child has set the universe ablaze, changing it for good or ill forever. I say 'for good or ill' because in those who resist its power there eventually arises a hatred for it within their hearts until they cast away its very essence, becoming little better than beasts for the slaughter, using up what precious life they possess until Fate's arrow extinguishes their flame."

Ardon piped in, "Well have I witnessed the child's love and affection, and hold it very dear to my heart. That's why I am so saddened over her severe anger regarding such a little issue. If it pleases her, I will go to this Darla creature and make public apology for my seeming improprieties."

Lowenah's anger rose up in her heart, indignant, her nostrils flaring. Just as quickly, she forced those feelings back down, knowing it does no good to punish a dog when it cannot understand the bad it has done. She sighed, repressing her lingering frustration. Ardon was a good man, as good leastwise as most of her children. Darla was silently viewed by so many of them as little more than a deformed, twisted creature to be pitied, yet to also be politely avoided.

Ardon was just more outspoken than the others, being one of the standing council members of the twenty-four, and having, long ago, taken upon himself to be the protector of the Empire. Another fault that left the man stunted to understanding his own heart and that of others was his arrogance concerning things he did not know about. Of what importance must it really be if he didn't know about it or hadn't thought about it?

Lowenah sighed again, resting a hand on Ardon's shoulder, looking him in the face, cautioning, "Do not underestimate the danger you are in! A tricksy heart will deceive itself into believing wrong and crooked things. Many are the sons of Damnation who once showed more wisdom and understood better the power of a heart's love, yet the spirit of life has already fled their souls, and Fate's archer awaits at their door to send them to the Abyss of Nothingness.

"Now listen and learn so that you may live! Do not ever demean my Rachel by calling her a 'creature' again, or I will give you a thrashing you will long remember! For I will humiliate you in the public square and throw you out of my house, giving your high position to the child you hate! Do you understand me?"

Ardon was taken aback, but he knew well enough to leave Mother be when her dander was up, even if he did not understand why. He nodded, saying he would try.

"Good!" Lowenah exclaimed. "I will tell you this, if you had residing within you the monsters that dwell in my little child, you would have long ago turned to the world of evil, becoming far worse in wicked deeds than the acts committed by AsreHalom! Even Michael does not comprehend the evil my Rachel carries within her breast, for, as a babe, my little child was cast into the furnaces of Hell, and I, the only one capable of stopping the scourge tearing her mind apart, did nothing because my own selfish heart pined for its love lost.

"All alone my child suffered the demons as they sought to consume her soul, but she did not let them, has not! It, Son, was not, is not willpower and strength of mind that saved my child from such a terrible fate. No! It is the love welling up in her heart that saved her, save all of my children from the damnation that may yet consume your worlds should my purpose fail me at this upcoming prisoner exchange."

Ardon began to interrupt.

Lowenah hushed him. "I will tell you, my little child, Rachel, has within her heart gathered more of the power of my love than all my other children put together! By her selfless acts of courage and devotion, she has saved more of my children than have all our foolish councils from the beginning of this rebellion! Deformed and twisted my child is. Should all my children be so blessed as she, for her love preserves her very being, protected by the powers that are keeping her alive until a cure is manifested."

Again taking Ardon's hand, looking down, while playing her fingers upon it, Lowenah counseled, "It was not out of pity or delight that I have delivered Rachel up to this prisoner exchange. The future of the universe rests upon decisions made there, and my little child must stand beside me at that fateful time. I must cast her soul into the fires of the damned, for I have been challenged by the Demon Host, himself, to deliver to him the greatest of all my warriors to do battle with him."

Ardon frowned, shaking his head. "She has not the might to do contest with that monster! Why, he has power over even the elements! Gabrielle, alone, might possibly have the strength, possibly..."

"Son," Lowenah looked into Ardon's eyes, "war is waged on many levels. This battle is not one of flesh against flesh, but spirit against spirit. I believe Rachel is the greatest of my warriors. I believe this so much that I have put the future hope of all my children upon Fate's table and across that table I have cast the dice. I now wait upon the numbers revealed."

Ardon was shocked. He now realized his mother was serious. She was playing a very deadly game, and she trusted the future of the universe to a broken, deranged urchin who was most unpredictable. But the look on Mother's face convinced him that the matter was settled and there was nothing he could do to change her mind, that it would be showing wisdom to remain silent about his feelings.

Lowenah patted Ardon's hand. "Now please speak to no one about this. I warn you to keep this secret, for there are other ears that would find this too great a treasure to carry alone within their bosom! Your brother believes I am delivering Michael up to him for this contest, thinking her to be my valiant warrior. I will fool him completely. I tell you this, my darling son, Michael will fail me at this upcoming prisoner exchange because she does not accept my counsel, but chooses a more dangerous path. Her soul will not come to ruin, though, because I have given her a savior who will pull her from the flames just in the nick of time."

She then further warned, "Do not interfere at this upcoming prisoner exchange! Leave my Rachel be to the Fates. Watch yourself that day, or I shall feed your flesh to the crow and the snake if that needs be done to save my Rachel alive! You I allowed to speak up at the council because secrets I did not want revealed, but to you I say 'leave matters be.' The fate of the universe rests upon the outcome, and I will put you down if you become a risk! I trust Rachel, but I don't trust you...not in this matter."

Lowenah paused, looking deeply into Ardon's troubled eyes, his heart. She was dismayed. Ardon would obey her. He was such a loyal son, but he still did not understand at all why Darla must be included on this mission, or even why he had been so chastised regarding his actions toward her. Lowenah could see all these things.

This had been a most wearisome conversation. Lowenah was tired. She finally concluded, "Son, the day may well come that the one you hate so will rescue your heart, for I do not believe the power resides within you to gain its deliverance."

She sadly smiled, "You have never desired the company of others...you accepting your being lonely as normal." Looking toward the door, she exclaimed, "Well, it's not good to be lonely, even when a person cannot feel he is lonely, especially when we journey far into the unknown. I want you to gather Tashi up in your arms and spend the remainder of this journey together, you know, doing things she wants to do for a change."

Ardon smiled, it quickly fleeing his face. "I don't know. Something's got Tashi out of sorts this trip. She has acted nervously busy all the time, returning here to only gather a few things and then running off again. I feel the room..."

Lowenah hushed him. "Do as you're told. Tashi and I had a little chat earlier and she waits even now in the officers' mess for you. I promised her you'd give her a good time and that you would do whatever she wanted. Don't disappoint me now. Tashi has waited a long time to share with you little treasures that are on her mind. Now be a good boy and take the girl into your arms and do for her as she wishes."

Ardon grinned, hugging Lowenah tight. "I promise, Mother, I promise to do just as you have requested."

* * *

Screams hit Captain Asarel in the back of his head like a sledgehammer, making him bolt upright, spilling some of his hot brew. "Damn!" he fumed, setting down the cup, reaching for a towel to clean up the spilled mess. As he wiped off his uniform, the captain wondered how his other officers were managing. Every evening since beginning this voyage had been filled with torturous cries and whimpers of a distraught woman being pummeled by incessant visions of unspeakable terrors, each night getting worse, with tonight's the greatest so far.

No one in the officers' quarters could sleep, all trying to privately manage as best they could. The captain had taken to squirreling himself away in the quiet of the officers' mess to find relief. It had worked reasonably well until now. Another bloodcurdling screech reverberated off the bulkheads, sending a chill up Asarel's spine that almost made him cry out in fear.

"How does he do it?" Asarel asked himself aloud, wondering at Euroaquilo.

Every night the man entered into a world of darkness and evil that the captain could only imagine, battling demonic forces so vile that Euroaquilo dared not speak about the sordid events when asked concerning them.

It was taking its toll, too. Euroaquilo looked haggard and tired...well, everyone looked tired, but Euroaquilo more so. He had also gone to wearing long-sleeved shirts to hide bloody scratches and bite marks on his arms and back. And what of the woman, Leftenant Darla? Asarel dared not tender a guess. She and Euroaquilo would quietly arrive at morning mess, silently breakfast and quickly go about their duties, the woman burying herself in her work.

The good leftenant's face was ghostly pale, with dark rings surrounding sunken, colorless eyes. She spoke little if at all and, when she did, it was with a great deal of pain. Yet the woman always remained so polite and courteous, smiling her hellos to the others when meeting at mess or in the hallways. No complaint, not a word. What kind of a person was this Darla anyway?

Another wailing scream caught Asarel by surprise, jumping up and knocking over his cup, spilling remaining brew across the table. He cussed again, glancing out the door of the mess and down the companionway. "Enough! Enough!" Abandoning the spilt drink and broken cup to the cleaning crew, he made his way from the mess and down the passageway. The engines were running hot, meaning they must be quite noisy. Maybe if he secluded himself in the boson's wardroom behind the engine room he could find a little peace and quiet. With desperate anticipation, Captain Asarel hurried away to make his escape.

Not everyone aboard DusmeAstron was able or willing to make escape.

"Die, you bastard!" Euroaquilo's giant hands squeezed around the neck of the squirming, black demon until he heard a loud crunch, the demon's head falling away from its shoulders. Casting the little monster away, he hurried forward, chasing down several more as they sought to flee with Darla's torn and bloody body.

Catching up with them, Euroaquilo roared, "You shall not have the child! Go back to Hell or I shall give it to you here!" He dove forward, his fist smashing into the face of one demon while his other hand clutched hold of a second, crushing it in his mighty grip.

The horned demons squealed in fright, letting go of Darla, jumping back to get away from Euroaquilo. Standing over his companion, the man reached down to grasp Darla's outstretched hand.

"Help me, my Lord! Please help me!" Darla begged, "I cannot do this alone! They are tearing my mind from me, filling it with the most vile, sick visions!"

One of the hideous little demons stepped forward, threatening, "Fool! How can you destroy us all? Leave this abomination or we shall also feast upon your flesh as we will do to it!" The deformed monster lunged forward, calling others to join the attack.

Standing over Darla, Euroaquilo took the first blow, catching the demon in his hands, twisting its head and breaking its neck. Grabbing the next assailant in an iron grip, he shoved the fanged mouth of the first into the face of the second demon. The evil monster screeched in pain and went limp. Throwing them down, he drew his blade and spread his arms wide, preparing for the growing onslaught.

The battle for Darla's temple lasted long into the night, Euroaquilo piling up heaps upon heaps of bodies, the demons gathering in greater strength with each passing hour. Still the man refused to tire out, protecting his companion against all odds. At times, the demons would make a breakthrough, taking hold of the bruised and bleeding woman in an attempt to drag her away to their abyss and Euroaquilo would summon up his inner strength, driving them back, recapturing the girl.

Eventually the torn and shattered wasted landscape slowly took on the garish, red glow of morning's coming glory. In a last desperate charge, the demons gathered their strength for one more attempt to steal the woman away. It was a ferocious fight, the monsters tearing at Darla's flesh as they fought to gain a firm hold on her, all the while Euroaquilo's blade singing a deadly song, cleaving heads and arms at blinding speed.

And then it was over, distant volcanoes' violent eruptions signaling the surviving demons to seek their holes and crevices, else face a fate worse than delivered by Euroaquilo. Soon the plain was void of all life other than his dear companion - torn and battered, but still very much alive - and him.

Bending down on one knee, Euroaquilo swept Darla up in his arms, helping her to sit as she leaned upon his breast. Looking into the gathering morning fire, he knew the worst was yet to come. It had come first two nights before, and last night's was far more damning. He dreaded what might arrive out of the burning darkness this morning.

As he waited, cradling his ward, Euroaquilo pondered these terrible wars of the mind. Oh yes, he knew the battle plain was a vision, the execution of electrical and chemical reactions in the brain, but these battles were no less deadly than any he had faced upon the open fields in the outside world. The demons, these abominations of life were real, leeches living off the energy of his darling girl, their intelligence nearly as great as his. They sought not the demise of Darla, but possession of her spirit, enslaving it to their will, condemning her to a living death under their insidious control.

The tortured ground began to shake from violent, distant eruptions, the sky filling with noxious, choking smoke. As lightning ripped across the ragged sky, Euroaquilo chanced a glance toward the burning mountains, his heart sinking. A thundering, black, heaving mass of advancing demons filled the plain. There would be no winning this day unless, unless... He had only one chance to save his girl and the timing of his play meant everything.

Slowly Euroaquilo stood to face the approaching horde, stretching to his full height of seventy-two plus six inches, glistening sweat dripping from rippling muscles, hands clenched. With feet spread, protecting the woman who lay curled up on the blistered field, cowering in rabid fear, the man prepared for this day's one final contest.

Out of the blazing darkness charged an army of hideous, half-man, half-beast demons riding upon the backs of howling, giant wormlike, fanged monsters, breathing acidic fire, their shrieking able peel the skin off a weak or cowardly man. Euroaquilo was no such man. He stood proud, defiant, showing no hint of fear.

The driving horde stopped up short, question and caution growing on the faces of this most unholy host. The demon-king had summoned his entire army this night, seeing it had been bested the preceding night by this very same fomenter of ruin. Not alone would it risk another encounter with this vile intruder, but with all its armies would the battle be charged. Now even the demon-king's army held back, waiting upon their leader, uncertain about the moment.

Euroaquilo said nothing, his glaring, piercing eyes roving, searching out those who dared stare into his. Few did. There came a sudden shout, and the masses wiggled and pushed their way clear to allow their god-king passage.

Out of the gloom of savage darkness strode a giant beast-man. Tall it was, half again as Euroaquilo, cloaked so that only its grotesque head was to be seen with two long, curved horns protruding from the sides, angling out and downward, its fiery-red, flaming eyes able to burn the flesh off cowards. In its talons, the beast-man held a long, flaming whip.

This demon-king stopped mere feet from Euroaquilo, pointing at Darla, demanding in a deafening roar, "Give over the creature or suffer her fate!"

Crimson lightning bolts exploded from a gathering tempest, reverberating thunder shaking the sky, paining the ears. And just as the night before, the fires of Hell broke open - the energy upon which these monsters fed to gain strength, that power not yet gathered to them. Still, Euroaquilo could do little more than wait. Their numbers were too great for him, alone. Timing was everything.

In a blinding flash, Euroaquilo pulled from a sheath upon his back a large, double-bladed axe with a head of forged chrysolite and a handle of burnished bronze. He roared with the venom of a man on a vengeful hunt, his voice shattering the night. "I am EuroaquiloIllyricum, god over this underworld and master of your fate! Be off or I shall send you all into the Pit of Nothingness, the place where many of your kindred have already gone this night!"

The demon-king stared down at this puny intruder, uncertain. Why so brave? Where was its power? What was in its hand? The beast paused, lifting its nose as if to smell the storm on the breeze. Then, just as it felt the static crackle of nearing lightning, it began to lift its whip toward the storm, laughing.

"To me!" Euroaquilo shouted, hefting the axe high into the night's sky.

The erupting firestorm intended for the demon-king's whip instead flew toward the raised axe, consuming the raging blaze. Into the radiant head and through the handle, the power of the flames raced into the man defiant. A collective gasp of terror rent the air as the beast-men stared in horror at the flaming monster confronting them.

"I am EuroaquiloIllyricum, god of the underworld! Be off with you into Damnation! Die!" He flung the axe into the face of the now terrified demon-king. An explosion of fire and smoke filled the sky, accompanied by a pain-filled scream as he watched the demon-king's head disintegrate into flaming ash as its body burned to cinders. Shrieks of dismay and terror echoed across the plain, the horde collectively crying out at seeing their hero destroyed.

Suddenly, the dark tempest burst upon them, adding its convulsive voice to the tumultuous riot. With one great, final display of power, it shook the heavens. Then the world fell dark and silent.

Euroaquilo did not hear Darla's heartbreaking screams that coincided with the sky's orgasmic explosions, nor did he feel the wounds caused by the woman's fingernails as they sank deep into his flesh. What he did feel were the convulsions and violent, uncontrolled spasms that shook the bunk, threatening to tear it from the wall.

Darla let out a sudden gasp, her eyes flying open in a terrified stare, her body going rigid as her breathing stopped as though she were dead. Euroaquilo lay there looking down into the woman's pallid face, his lips quivering in dread. Had he been too late? Was the child given into his care truly dead, her soul consumed by the ravages of the night's battle, or worse, had her soul and mind been given up to the beast-men, he being too late to save her?

A long, deep, sighing sound struck Euroaquilo's ears, his heart pounding in anxious anticipation. Darla's breath slowly escaped her lips while her muscles gradually relaxed, her body growing limp as though passing into death. The girl's bruised hands released their hold on Euroaquilo's arms, falling flat upon the white coverlets, staining them with the bloody ooze seeping from her pores. Indeed, Darla's entire being began a crimson sweating that soaked the sheets red while filling the room with the stench of death.

Euroaquilo sucked in a breath, holding it. The man's ears ached for want of a sound while a hand rested itself upon Darla's chest in hopes of feeling a heartbeat. It was as if all eternity was waiting upon the following, fleeting moments, seeking to offer either reward or condemnation.

"Such a little thing she asked," it chided him. "The child gave you her soul to assist her in such a little thing. Have you kilt her with your foolishness, or does she live with a soul torn and broken? Some hero you've been, allowing the child to be so ravaged and tortured. What good is the mighty Euroaquilo when he cannot save this little maiden?"

All of the man's recent visions flooded his mind. Were they gone from hope now, just dreams to be cast into a pit of despair, without want or care? Was there any future at all for the universe should he have failed this night and caused her death, the possibility of Darla's body being too weak in power to withstand the onslaught of those countless demons renting her mind?

Had it been seconds or hours since the battle in the dark abyss, since he had first placed his hand upon the girl's heart? Euroaquilo did not know, and with each passing of his own breath, he feared all the more the loss of tonight's contest. He was about to surrender to his worst fears when his hand felt the faintest of beats from a struggling heart. Then there was another and then another, weak and erratic, but real. Hope began to grow in Euroaquilo. The child might yet live.

There was a sudden rush of air being sucked into empty lungs. Darla's eyes flew open again, but this time in recognition of the man looking down into her face. Though her breathing was shallow and irregular, the woman forced a tempered smile of appreciation and thanks. Then, just as quickly, she closed her eyes and faded into a quiet sleep.

Euroaquilo slowly pulled himself from atop his most cherished ward and snuggled up close beside her on the narrow cot. While he laid his head on his arm, the man rested a hand on Darla's chest, cherishing the now constant quiet thump, thump, thump of her heart and the slight heave of her breast caused by the rhythmic breathing of a deep sleep. Yes, Darla had been severely tormented this night, her body driven to its limits, but she lived in both soul and mind.

Pondering this and the previous nights' battles fought, Euroaquilo hoped that Darla would little remember the evil of this past evening as she had the others. Maybe with a few fleeting hours of sleep and a warm shower in the morning, she might be little worse for wear.

Euroaquilo frowned. What if he had not bested the demon this night? What if the demon came in greater might on the morrow, gathering even a larger more powerful horde of hideous devils from the black and twisted abyss? How much more power could it gather the nearer to its creator that it came? And Euroaquilo, how much strength did he have remaining within himself to protect the girl?

Of all of Mother's children, other than save Mihai, Euroaquilo understood the ugly evil residing within his woman-child, his lover, his maiden divine. What the man had not learned from the millennia-long contest he fought along with Darla in their dream shares, he had received from Lowenah, and all his knowledge only filled him with dread. Time was running out for the child. Was it days or weeks? He did not know and if Mother did, she would not say. Oh, yes, Mother had been so optimistic when telling him the importance of remaining with Darla after the last council, but that was often the way Mother was.

Euroaquilo pondered Mihai's demon or possibly many demons. The woman was strong, tough, and she bested them often by her own self-will. Darla was different. Was there was but one demon? Euroaquilo believed there might be many, or one whose mind was fragmented to the point of macro-schizophrenia, projecting a divided mind into many individual personalities to the point that each obtained a separate identity, that demon maintaining far greater influence over Darla than the one in Mihai. If it was not for Darla's self-made monster of the battlefield along with a mysterious, hidden power buried deep within her mind, the girl might well have fallen hopelessly under the demon's control long ago.

Euroaquilo believed Darla's resistance was weakening. This night there would have been only despair should she have been cast into that abyss alone. The woman was crippled so with fear she could not even chase off the little demon spirits. Tonight, as with previous ones, Euroaquilo was forced to stand the battle line alone, something he never before experienced when contending with Darla's demons. He dreaded the coming eve should the demon increase its power and bring more numbers to the contest. Could Euroaquilo stem the evil tide if that became the case? The man did not know.

Euroaquilo closed his eyes, listening to Darla's gentle, deep breathing while he took count of each beat of her heart. 'It rests in your hands. It rests upon your shoulders.' The warning of earlier visions echoed in the man's head. What a fool he had been then, thinking it might only apply to the way Darla felt concerning Ardon. As he lay there, it became clearer that the visions were not singing their warning song regarding Darla, but about the universe and Time, itself. Whatever adventurous road his feet now trod, Darla played only a part, she being the catalyst that might set the universe ablaze, but still only a part, nonetheless, and now Ardon, too. Yes, for some inexplicable reason, the Fates had swept that odd fellow up into the coming maelstrom. For good or ill, the three were bound upon a fated road.

This was all too overwhelming for Euroaquilo. He called out to Mother through his mind for help, something he rarely did anymore. 'I am only a man, powerful in the flesh maybe, but only a child weak and of little knowledge in the mind. How do I do this thing demanded of me? I see no success on this path, for the Spirits ask too much from such a frail child. Look! I can barely hold back the demon hordes that threaten my darling love. How can I save the universe? It is too much for me to do alone. Too much...'

Suddenly, a dark cloud filled the man's mind, blinding his eyes with forgetful dreams. Without warning, Euroaquilo drifted into a deep, sound sleep that he did not revive from until Darla lovingly nudged him in the late morning hours.

Lowenah smiled and spoke aloud as if hosting company in her quiet, unlit room. "My boy grows in wisdom. He learns. Little Rachel shall not be visited this coming night by her demon, but hiding far down in hard to reach places shall it remain for some time. It hurts like a puppy beaten and wishes for no more contest against the new god who journeys into his world."

She rolled onto her side, thinking about the coming prisoner exchange and the future beyond that. A tear ran down her cheek. "We have chosen well. He will play this to the limit, but at what a cost? Oh my, at what a cost..."

A gentle breeze swaddled Lowenah in its loving embrace as a whisper on that breeze called out to her reassuringly, "Such a little price to pay for the rich reward received. You will see. You will see..."

* * *

"Welcome to the cooler!" A man with a big toothy grin waved his arm high as he gracefully backed away from the door. "We have your little girl on ice as I speak."

Symeon grumped sour-faced hellos as he passed through the copper-plated metal door, Hanna following close behind. While the man closed and sealed the door, Symeon turned and addressed the fellow, a sour look still on his face. "Drorli, must you continue plaguing me with such morbid dialog? If you had any feelings at all, you would show the dead a little more respect."

Hanna smiled, slipping a hand around Drorli's arm, softly cooing, "The poor fellow's been eating sour pills ever since you and Chess stopped by at breakfast the other morning. He's been in a fidget to be delivered here."

Lowering a jealous eyebrow, Symeon coldly responded, "I am not sour, just concerned for my little girl!" He reached out, pulling Hanna away from Drorli's side. "You, my fine gentleman, remember your manners this day. We are not at one of your festivals, and I have no intention of losing this woman up to your arms again as happened the last time we were visited by your enchanting company."

Drorli shrugged innocently, winking at Hanna. "Well, as I recall that evening hour..." He tapped his head as if searching to remember the moment. "As I recall that evening hour, you appeared to be quite taken with my sweet companion, Chasileah. Or was it the wine you so generously consumed that forced you to gather her up to the darkness and dance to love's music until your girl and I found you embraced in deep slumber under a nearby mulberry tree?"

Symeon's face reddened, the man embarrassed, feigning excuse. "I may have had a little too much of the brandy-wine, but it was for want of the company of my girl who you had secretly whisked away. Chasileah was understandingly sympathetic to my situation, seeing you had run off on her, too, and... and..."

"And what, my dear friend?" Drorli laughed, "And what...?"

Symeon swallowed hard, chancing a glance at Hanna who stood there smirking. "I... well..."

"Speak up, my friend, or has the tongue of truth gone to hiding?" Drorli laughed again. "Or was your evening spent with my companion a wasted one?"

Poor Symeon was in a spot. What could he say? Chasileah was a most beautiful woman, with her smooth, flawless brown skin and winter-white hair, laughing green eyes and a smile that could warm the coldest dawn, and she was truly a gentle and caring person. Nothing inappropriate could he say about such a wonderful woman.

Finally Symeon sputtered, disgusted, "I've not the mood to discuss such trivia on this most important day! I am here on official business that has kept me from the upcoming prisoner exchange. Now then, let us be about that business."

Hanna laughed, sliding an arm around Symeon's back. "The poor fellow has been in such a tizzy since he was told about his child that he's been impossible to live with! I'm surprised he even remembers Chasileah what with all that's been spinning about in his mind. He won't be himself again until this is all settled out and he's seen his girl." She then tenderly kissed Symeon on the cheek.

Waving his hand high, Drorli invited Symeon and Hanna to follow along, describing some of the particulars as they journeyed through the temple, in reality, a laboratory.

"Long ago, when my world was full of innocence and excitement, many days before I suckled upon my mother's breasts, these chambers were part of one of the greatest temple complexes in the universe. It has been rumored that strange, fiery, manlike creatures worked these bellows and gages to bring life to every sort of winged and creeping beast that the mind could imagine."

As they walked, Drorli pointed up toward a shining, metallic, sealed cauldron some forty cubits high and three times in length. "From the largest to the smallest of life forms, it is said these manlike creatures...some of the oldest story-tellers call them 'Cherubs'...a fanciful name I guess, but one that works for now...these Cherubs toiled day and night for countless millennia to create the marvelous animals invented in the mind of the Maker of Worlds."

Pointing toward the distant, arched ceiling, Drorli exclaimed, "This is truly the cathedral of the gods! It has been told by some of the Ancients that this place was directly connected to the seven palace gardens of EdenEsonbar, the most wondrous of building marvels to have ever existed."

He stopped and faced Hanna and Symeon, wearing a proud smile. "It has been whispered by some of the old and wise that the runes inscribed above the gated doors you passed through to enter here when translated say 'Belly of the Universe' or 'Womb of all life'.

His eyes gleaming like a child holding back the greatest of secrets, Drorli went on in a hushed voice to explain, "It has been rumored that this place is the greatest of all portals, connecting to all the hidden temples within all the universes of all the realms, the place where everything began, that even your Eden was... is... part of this same complex. It is also rumored that the door of the portal was long ago shut when the Lady stole from Asotos the Key of Understanding and, along with her own key, torn from her very breast, cast them into the Sea of the Deepening Pits, there to forever remain until a holy knight who has the power and strength of heart and mind to take up the quest into that horrid world will retrieve them from unseen eyes and return them to mortal lands. A most dangerous place it is, to be sure."

He placed a finger to his lips and spoke in a whisper, "The Aged Ones have hinted that those very same unseen eyes protect this secret world down to this day."

He cast his gaze about the chamber. "You know how rumors are, bedtime stories to titillate a child's heart maybe. Many are the stories told by the Ancients. Oh well. What I can tell you for a certainty is this: the day Michael was tormented near to death, the sky grew ominously red and the ground began to tremble in a most fearsome way. Buildings, towers and walls built in the ages before time tumbled down to ruin, and the spirit of light retreated from this world. Gradian's Clock struck a foreboding chiming that refused to quiet for seven days and nights. Its radiant glow faded in that hour, too, and has not returned since. I know, for I was there."

Hanna stepped forward, smiling with sly understanding. "My dear friend, short are my years of living, but wisdom and understanding need not always belong to long life and many years. You gave away too many of your secrets when you allowed me entry into your mind. You speak in whispers and as if with hinted rumors. Maybe so, maybe so...but you are also an Ancient and a healer, and a very wise man. I feel you couch truth in children's tales, as does PalaHar, but he controlled his dreams better when with me."

Drorli grinned. "I gave to my wonderful mistress exactly what I wanted to share with her. Still, much of the universe abounds with rumor, for Mother is tight-lipped and full of riddles. She makes her children guess at many things. Countless are the theories about love and life that pervade these worlds. Truth is not fact. As long as fact remains secreted in mystery and rumor, then truth is little more than educated faith. Mother likes it that way. Says it keeps her children on their toes, likes them to figure it out on their own."

Symeon stepped forward, asking, "Who's the Lady?"

Drorli frowned, saddened, "The Lady died that day, at least her heart and soul died that day. She now resides in darkness and gloom, seeking a rescuer who will return her soul to her, but she languishes in doubt and despair. The ruin of Michael was but one of Asotos' many victories that day. Our age of innocence perished in fire and smoke at that time too, destroying so many hearts. It was said by the Ancients that countless years past, at the beginning of life, the Lady and Chrusion – Asotos - were of only one mind, heart, and soul, at least in spirit, Mother making it so when the two first shared their dreams. But that all changed long ago when Lagandow was consumed in flaming storm, bringing a demise to the only truly innocent age for our kind. Chrusion brought about that end by destroying the Lady's heart with the lifting up of another to replace her. For countless millennia, the Lady clung to a wistful hope for a returning to the old ways, that is until the day that monster ruined Michael."

He sadly shook his head. "Then all hope she lost, along with her will to live. If not for her love for Mother, she would have cast her own flesh into the Deepening Pits to be consumed by the forces of that universe."

Symeon asked again. "So who is the Lady, and what are the Deepening Pits?"

Drorli glanced up at a giant timepiece hanging on a distant wall, and then turned away, motioning Symeon and Hanna to follow. "We must hurry along, we've a ways to go and the hour is getting late. There are still many wonderful things I wish to show and tell you about."

Journeying along the grand cathedral hall of this immense temple complex, the trio passed countless darkened, quiet chambers. They finally exited the hall and turned left, entering a wide gallery filled with numerous buzzing and clicking machines scattered about the room with seemingly endless banks of lights, an array of gages radiating a rainbow of colors and dials strewn along the walls.

Drorli rattled off names and operating properties of one machine after another while Symeon and Hanna dumbly nodded as if understanding the things he was saying. Finally he stopped, sweeping his hand wide. "You see how all the levers and buttons are designed to be worked by human hands? These machines existed long before Chrusion's birthing, though he did idle away many an hour here.

"Well," he revealed, putting his hands on his hips, "It has been said by the Ancients that the Maker of Worlds chose to walk these rooms in a body of flesh such as that of her coming children. She designed this place so that she could share with her children the joy of creation, a gift she gave first to Chrusion. Sadly, Chrusion eventually turned the knowledge gained within these chambers into making creations for the control of his siblings - creations he used to infect Michael."

He interrupted himself, quickly changing the subject. "Here...come over here and see some of the marvelous secrets of creation! Take a look-see through these lenses."

Pressing their eyes against padded lens tubes, Symeon and Hanna peered down upon the strangest of wiggling and jumping animals they had ever seen. After listening awhile to their excited remarks, Drorli explained, "This is the secret of secrets to the power of life! What you are observing are not animals, but the very essence of life that comes from the Web of the Minds."

"No!" Symeon exclaimed, looking up from the lenses and at Drorli.

"Yes!" answered Drorli. "Only through these lenses built by the Ones who Came Before can we, the children of this universe, see into the world of the Web of the Minds." Waving his hands about in gesture, he added, "It is this essence that binds all life together. All life, from the smallest of invisible, tiny creatures to the greatest of sea monsters, depends on this material to exist."

He stepped back, pointing toward himself. "For you and me, Mother bonded this essence with our other genetic structure and then, through her magic, forged them together as one so, should any of her children suffer a fate that delivered death to the flesh, the essence of the Web would continue to live, it eventually returning to the Source of Life to awaken to a future rebirth in a body of flesh or spirit."

Not all of what Drorli was speaking about was unknown to the others. Symeon asked, "So that is how Hanna, I and the others were able to be delivered here, to the World of Spirits?"

Drorli smiled. "To here, this place, yes, but this is not the World of Spirits. My friend, you and I are still both men of flesh, only now you reside in my mortal world, but it's still a mortal world. The World of Spirits that I mention is the world in which our Mother resided before gathering her spirit to us here. It is in the World of the Immortals, the Spirits, that some of us have been promised a home, you two included. That is yet for a future day, but by means of the essence shall we travel in soul and heart to that place."

Hanna was bewildered. "If this essence ever bonds with ours, is there really such a thing as death and should that be the case, how do the wicked ones ever come to their end? Is their living essence only locked away somewhere for all eternity?"

Drorli grinned. "You open many doors that we, too, asked our Mother after the Rebellion began. Her answer was so simple that a child could understand it. For that reason, so many of our wise ones have never grasped its reality. Even Asotos, the greatest mortal mind of the ages, cannot understand this simple truth. Without the bonding agent, the essence will not remain intact, but will dissipate back to its original, misty composition. For that reason, even your own prophets spoke of the spirit of man and beast being the same, for a man without the bonding agent, should he die, he will be no more."

"So, what is this bonding agent?" Symeon asked.

Drorli smiled. "My friend, the hour is close and I have need for haste. Allow this to suffice: when your precious, darling girl died in the flesh so long ago – for you, at least – her essence passed off into a deep sleep, it having no interconnections to create feeling, emotion, or thought, all those things being located within her body of flesh. So sleep your little child did in what Mother calls the 'Web of the Minds'. As I speak, some of these wonderful machines made so long ago are gathering the needed materials to rebuild those interconnections so that our girl will wake up again."

He departed for another room hidden away behind a closed panel. "Follow along and you shall see what I am talking about."

The three now picked up their pace. Symeon and Hanna were only beginning to realize the immensity of this most magnificent of laboratories, and the amazing secrets contained within. Rooms filled with 'parts and pieces'- Drorli's term for them - of every form of living creature were to be found behind sealed crystal.

"This place was not only a laboratory for making life," Drorli explained, "but it was also the most outstanding of libraries or universities, as some of your kind might call it."

He motioned them onward. "Long ago, our people came to understand that the properties of nature... physics, harmonics, and psycho-anatomy... were but an amalgam of all the sciences, and that all sciences are built upon the core of true mathematics. By the thousands, we children would gather ourselves to this greatest of universities to study and expound these theories, which we eventually came to call 'EbenCeruboam', the 'Cherubs' Greatest Stone'.

"In time, our studies led to the discovery of portals in our universe and development of machines capable of traversing those portals into the Middle and Lower Realms. Oh, and that was only the beginning. It seemed the more we discovered in our exploration of EbenCeruboam, the more expansive our universe became, and... and the less, we realized, we really understood regarding it. The incomprehensible depth of Mother's wisdom and knowledge gradually revealed itself to the point that even the most ancient of my kindred admitted they were unable to fathom her knowledge."

Drorli raised a hand in gesture. "This did not stop us from attempting to learn all of Mother's secrets, and she, being the tease that she is, continued to encourage us forward. I believe that Mother wants us to learn all her secrets, but she expects us to do it on our own... with just a little help from her."

He stopped, looking at the others. "Sorry, I do get carried away at times. Now back to my point. We shall soon be leaving these chambers and entering the Court Colossus, one of seven concourses that lead to the heart of the center of learning, the Rotunda."

In a few minutes, the three passed through two ornately carved winged doors and into a vaulted court nearly half a furlong from wall to wall, it being as tall as wide, and its distance in either direction nearly a mile.

Symeon exclaimed in wonder, "How magnificent! What a grand convention of people this palace could hold!"

Shaking his head, Drorli informed him, "No, my friend, this is not the palace, or as we children call it, the 'Rotunda'. This is the Court Colossus, one of seven concourses that open onto the main level of the Rotunda. Follow me and we shall soon enter that wondrous chamber."

Turning to the right, the trio walked toward a large, dark opening in the far distance, a quiet stillness adding to the concourse's immensity.

At length, they came to a high, arched antechamber that narrowed their passage to about a hundred cubits. Exiting on the other side delivered them to a domed, circular theater nearly a mile across, the dome's center rising over eight hundred cubits above the floor. While marvelous to behold, the true grandeur of the place was hidden in shadows, the lighting dimmed like evening, as was the Court Colossus.

Drorli stepped forward, extending his arms as he turned to face the others. "Welcome to the Rotunda. I know, I know, such a simple name for such an immense structure. It sleeps at the moment, has since the beginning of this current age. But allow my words to awake it for you the way it used to be."

Drorli commenced a recital of melodious stories describing the tapestry, carvings, and ornamentation surrounding them. Symeon and Hanna followed Drorli toward the center of the Rotunda listening to his whimsical tales, the sharp sounds of hard soles on a pink, crystal floor sinking away into nothingness as if there were no steps taken at all. Even Drorli's voice was heard as if in a hush, his words falling away in silence.

Glancing back at his companions from time to time, Drorli also told a little of the history of the theater complex. "I can liken this place somewhat to your Greek Acropolis, a gathering center for the great minds of your day. Mother delights in learned knowledge, and realizes that in the multitude of counselors one may gain wisdom quickly. She wanted all her children to grow in wisdom, so she constructed this splendid learning institution."

He pointed toward the circular outer walls of the Rotunda. "Besides the seven spoke-like concourses that extend out from here, there are many hundreds of chambers and auditoriums to be found hiding beyond those walls. Why, some of those theaters alone have seating for thousands. During the Second Age, the numbers of children filling these chambers at times could number millions, the Rotunda able to hold as many as one million alone. We would gather here to listen to our wisest and most knowledgeable philosophers and teachers as they shared new theories and discoveries with the multitudes assembled.

"Opportunity was offered to any child who desired an audience concerning a new theory or discovery he or she wished to present. Oh, it might take years upon years to attain the ProsPhoneo, the center podium of the Rotunda, but every thought and idea could find a listening ear somewhere in one of the countless auditoriums surrounding it. There were times, I remember, when I might spend several months squirreled away here, it being a place that never slept, always astir with excitement."

His face saddened. "The Unseen Eyes cast darkness on this cathedral the day Asotos lifted his hand up against all things good. Few now are the children who dare passage into this world, the Unseen Eyes resentful at being disturbed by inquisitive sojourners."

"Do you mean to say these Unseen Eyes are to be feared by the very children of Lowenah?" Symeon asked, puzzled.

"Well," Drorli sighed, "it is said by the Ancients that those who came before are very protective of Mother. Many believe that those same ones who came before feel that the children failed their mother and, until we redeem ourselves, the gifts they built for our enjoyment are not deserved to be used. It has been said if not for the delivery of your kind and the healing of our brave warriors, we would not be permitted access to these chambers at all."

He looked at Hanna, smiling. "There are those in unseen places who have taken a shine to you, my dear one. For you, they opened the doors wide this day so that you might see into their world. In time you, too, will walk among those Unseen Ones, they waiting to reveal many of their secrets to you."

Peering into Hanna's eyes, his revealing more than what his words expressed, Drorli explained, "Yes, though numberless the people who will one day attain the World of the Immortals are, for you my visions have spoken of a special place reserved for you there and many eager hearts awaiting to be made one with yours."

Hanna could only nod, her head spinning, recalling so many of the visions that had poured into her mind during her dream share with Drorli. Symeon, though, was becoming anxious. He was not happy to think they had only been on a tour of an empty building.

Looking around dismayed, he sputtered, "You mean to say that we have been dragged all over this hopeless place just to be shown a few lonesome chambers and forgotten rooms? I thought we were supposed to see the returning of my little girl."

Drorli frowned, but well understood Symeon's impatience. "My friend, many are the roads that lead the aimless sojourners to journey's end, but only one will carry the penitent onward into absolution."

He stopped and faced Symeon. "My kind seeks absolution, for we allowed wickedness to enter this world when power had long ago been delivered into our hands to prevent it. Your kind shall lead us upon the road to absolution, but through fire and blood must we travel to attain it."

Drorli pointed at an astonished Hanna, addressing Symeon, "And this holy child has delivered up to us the hope for our salvation, for by her seed does the coming of all things happen. She will pronounce upon us the blessing or the malediction, the gift or the curse. And she, herself, shall in the ending hour lift up the stone to bring life or death to us. It has been for this reason that we have journeyed here this day. This woman must find the road for us all, or my kind shall come to nothing in our shame."

He apologized to Symeon for taking him down a winding path. "My friend, my brother, I have not led you in a roundabout this day for no good reason, but delivered you two here early in order to show to you and speak to you about these wondrous things secreted in these chambers. Few of your kind have ever visited these Realms of the Gods that have been hidden away from even my kind since the Rebellion began. There has been an awakening in this universe that my bones have not felt since before the burning of Lagandow. It both refreshes and chills my soul, for I know only the road it places us upon and not its final destination.

"By my own hands have I delivered so many of your kind into this world. Your Garlocks, Copelands, and Trishas I have watched turn from the elements of this planet into houses of flesh for their minds to reside in. With the excitement of a father watching his child born, I have witnessed the spirit of rebirth take hold of that flesh and return a living being to us."

He pointed a finger in the air, slowly shaking it. "Yet I have known that to return life to these people only hastens our own demise, our way of life, culture and very souls. This child whom you call 'daughter' is a most dangerous person! Her sword will make these holy lands run red with the blood of both the wicked and innocent. I fear her, for the girl will deliver us all to the very gates of Hell. She is a monster divine, as are her two sister swords."

He sighed. "My very own hands have cursed my people. I am the bringer of destruction, for I have delivered these Sister Dragons to us. My heart wishes only to destroy the flesh of your kindred so that their minds cannot gather their power to our world, but my mind knows it must be done. Those who dwell in unseen places desire your kind to gather to us, and I will obey them."

Drorli placed a hand on Symeon's shoulder. "I celebrate when one of your kind is reborn here, but I do not rejoice. I both love my new brethren and hate them - love them because I know they will bring us to victory, hate them because they will rip away our masks of false piety and will destroy everything we hold so dear. The flesh of your girl is of greater beauty than even many of my sister kindred. She is a wonder to behold, a goddess, yet to me her flesh is an abhorrent sight, for I have seen the destruction she and all her kind will bring upon us."

Turning to a very confused Hanna, Drorli took one of her hands, holding it so tenderly and looked back at Symeon. "This woman is a healer - a healer of hearts and souls. She and those like her shall save us from the malediction we so much deserve. Holy angels be damned! Those stories told to you about us by Mother were given to encourage you and give you hope. We failed our mother in her darkest hour, when hope for our world still remained. No, we failed and our mother's heart broke. Now your kind must fix it no matter the cost to us."

Drorli turned away, staring off into the darkness. "There!" he spoke as his voice cracked in sadness. "My reason for bringing you here has been accomplished. These things I have told you must remain here in the land of the Watchers. They will protect them from other ears. Hanna, my dear love, you needed to know - they wanted you to know. Do not ask me to explain, because I do not have words to do so."

After wiping a hand across his face, Drorli turned around, forcing a smile. "I have done what I could to prepare you for the coming days. A gray mist hides from me what the future will be, and I do not see what part I shall play in it. So take my counsel and do what you will with it. I will do all that is in my power to assist your girl's safe delivery into our world, and then my work here will be done. She is the last to come for many days, the gates through which you passed to be sealed closed until the Watchers choose to open them again."

Sucking in a breath, Drorli composed himself and then laughed. "Well, well, I so much want you to see the magnificence of the ProsPhoneo. It is a wonder of technological achievement. Come along, we still have some time before we visit your little one."

Symeon and Hanna silently obeyed, following Drorli. They were both too deeply absorbed in thought concerning his troubling revelations to do otherwise.

The ProsPhoneo was a marvelous place, located on a raised, circular platform at the very center of the Rotunda, commanding a three hundred and sixty degree view of the entire theater. Control panels allowed use of special lighting and projection systems that could turn the entire domed area into one gigantic motion picture screen. Drorli lit up the dome with images of the starry night sky as it appeared over Palace City throughout its four-season progression. He also explained that through the marvel of design, a speaker on the ProsPhoneo could easily be heard in the farthest reaches of the auditorium without the use of mechanical amplifying equipment, and do this without creating any echo.

At length, they left the Rotunda, exiting onto a different concourse that Drorli did not name, gradually making their way back to the gated door where Symeon and Hanna originally met up with him earlier that day. By that time, they were all in a cheery mood, Drorli entertaining them with humorous tales of his life growing up in the old days of Palace City long ago. After enjoying some refreshments that had been prepared for them, they were off to pay a visit upon the soon to arrive child.

In a series of small side chambers leading to the main temple where the girl was being prepared, many hands were busy turning dials and operating strange-looking machines of sorts. Drorli explained, "I assume that Mother could have made things much easier for her children had she wanted to, but she is known to make us work hard for our reward. The reason, I believe, is that she feels we will appreciate the end result more if we have struggled a bit to make it succeed. So it is with these rejuvenating machines. Many are the helpers needed to maintain a constant vigil over the operation or things may go awry, and we would have to start over again."

He grinned, watching a troubled frown grow on Symeon's face. "Don't worry, my friend. Your little girl is in right fine shape... well, at least this time round." He chuckled at seeing Symeon wince at this last statement.

Over a dozen temple assistants busied themselves with various duties. Symeon was overwhelmed with wonder. "Why all these machines to rebuild such a small body?" he asked Drorli. "When I walked in the world of men, the miracles I witnessed were instantaneous. Why all the people and machines?"

Drorli smiled, "A reasonable question, my friend, and there are several reasonable answers. When the repairs or what you call 'miracles' were made to your kind, often Mother and the Lady were directing them, and with our Mihai, the very powers of the Immortals were funneled through her, so that even a touch of Mihai's clothing was enough to heal some people. Plus, in most cases, the mind need not have been returned to the dead flesh, it not yet being truly dead, so there was merely the rebuilding of the body that was done.

"You see," Drorli went on to explain, "the mind that is beyond the flesh gathers around itself some of the hidden energy of the universe. That energy becomes what some call the person's 'aura', meaning 'invisible self'. This aura slowly ebbs and flows in power and force. The more content and comfortable we are, the weaker the force, thus allowing or even desiring the aura of a trusted companion to draw nearer to it, to us. When someone willingly shares his or her dreams, it is the energy of the auras that create the feeling of being drawn into each other. Without the power of the aura, there could be no dream share."

Drorli stepped back, looking around the room. "There is so much more I could tell you about this energy or aura, but time does not permit. There are entire volumes of our scientific journals filled with aura theory and study. There have been millennia of research and philosophical thought given to the subject, and still much of what we believe concerning it is conjecture and assumption on our part.

"We do understand a few things about it, though. This energy field or aura dissipates gradually in death. We feel it is designed in this way to prevent the mind from escaping prematurely should someone become severely damaged in the flesh, thus giving the powers of the body time to correctly communicate with the mind as to its fate, helping the mind decide whether it should remain and wait to see if the body of the person will survive."

An attendant called out to Drorli with a question. He excused himself to check on the person's needs. In a moment the man returned, making brief comment concerning what was currently happening, and then he continued.

"Depending upon the circumstances...and there are too many to discuss here...the aura may encourage the mind to linger long after the body has given up on life, many hours possibly, or even a day or two under extreme conditions. We, the children don't consider a person truly deceased until we feel his mind completely departed the flesh, until we feel it gone from the body.

"It is for this reason, we believe, that the aura may long hold the mind to a nonliving body. That you witnessed with your teacher's decisive actions regarding Lazarus' death and return to life. By waiting three days, time for the man's body to be stinking, it could be proved to all in the Realms Above and Below that Mother could return life to the truly dead. Though Asotos chose to at first publicly deny that event, charging it to be a mere trick, he was later forced to recant his accusation because so many of his followers did accept the event as fact, he then changing his story to claim that power to return life lay hidden within the Palace, the man unwilling to give any of that credit to Mother.

"It is for the reason that the aura is a power of energy unto itself, drawing its strength from other sources beyond this universe, so that it may long linger even after the flesh has been removed to another place. If a person's death is unexpected - violent, let's say - life being ripped from the flesh, possibly thus shocking the entire energy system, the aura may long hold the mind in suspension for some time... possibly years, wrapping its energy force around the mind and retarding its return to the Web." Drorli raised a finger, gesturing. "This may also happen at times with animals... in a little different way, but that is another theorem for another time.

"So it may be, when someone dies unexpectedly, violently, or when the flesh surrenders itself of the mind too quickly, the mind and aura may linger in the vicinity for some time before the aura's energy weakens and dissipates. Those who are sensitive to their own auras may well feel the presence of the lingering minds, thus come to believe that the person still lives in some way. This feeling is common on the old battlefields, even in this world, and it is often the reason why so many soldiers desire to return to their old haunts."

Symeon interrupted, "This is interesting information, and happy will I be to sit in rapt silence beside a warm fire while you're contented to spend the evening extolling these secrets to me. But I would like to know what this has to do at all with my little girl?"

Drorli smiled, apologizing, "I am very good at explaining in many words what could be said in a few. I didn't intend to turn this into a dissertation. My reason for discussing this was to answer your former question, 'why all the attendants and machines to bring back only one person?'

"You see, to repair the flesh is a relatively easy matter, that is, with the proper machinery of course. We have copied the designs of these machines found here to create the healing machines we use to assist our wounded soldiers to recuperate and heal more quickly. Still, it is mostly by the manipulation of the surrounding harmonics that the physical process is accomplished. When one plays in the lands of the Web and the energy fields of the auras, one must play by different rules. We are only the apprentices wielding the tools belonging to master-craftsmen whose powers and wisdom we can only assume. We are at the mercy of their designs and must play by their rules, or we shall not succeed at all."

Drorli waved his hand about while pointing toward various machines. "It takes us many days of preparation and process to return one of your kind to life. It is the way the makers of this temple chose it to be. We have been working on your girl for weeks now, making her body just so, making it as perfect as we possibly can. She is a marvel of engineering, one of our best creations."

He grinned, "Notice I said one of our best," then looked at Hanna, searching her form with his eyes. "I was so proud when your soul was delivered back to life. You were already so beautiful by nature that it was simple to adjust the mathematics of the machines to finish you up just so. And when you first awoke in that tiny room we had prepared for you, and as I watched your eyes flutter awake...seeing you through secret windows in a hidden room...I fell in love with you at that moment. It was such an easy thing to do."

Hanna blushed, unable to make reply.

"So," Drorli looked back at Symeon, "we have been diligent in reinventing the flesh of your girl, but the returning of her spirit and all that goes with the process has been time-consuming. Her mind must learn to accept its new home, for the body it remembers was not only imperfect, but was also made from the elements born of your universe. Though the elements here appear to you to be the same, their nature is different, they designed that way... or so the Ancients have said... permitting many universes to exist together without interfering with the laws of the others. Now that's a different theorem study of scientific thought, one that I will not attempt today.

"My friend," Drorli patted Symeon on the shoulder, "we put your little girl back together just so, making her one of the most beautiful creatures we have delivered to this place." He paused, looking at Hanna.

Hanna blushed again.

"That..." he grinned, "the flesh was our creation! Now we have become the faithful workers for the Caretakers of these worlds, carefully gathering the hidden elements of their universes so that life can reawake again in the child's mind, and she can be returned safely to you. It is an arduous, painstaking process, and one we dare not rush. It must be timed perfectly or your girl might either linger in a coma, awaiting the mind's waking to its senses, or she may be traumatized and suffer torrid dreams and unpleasant headaches for a long time. We must do things just right."

The _hiss!_ and _clack!_ of a sealed door opening suddenly fell upon the trio's ears. A suited woman with long, golden tresses done up tight about her head, carrying a clear crystal helmet, passed through the doorway, quickly closing the door behind her. She hurried over to Drorli, offering salutations to the others as she neared.

With a smile, the woman recommended, "I believe it's time for you three to suit up. We finished the thro-bissea-dashon process and are beginning the blood flow. I believe the heart will begin pumping momentarily. If you'll all follow me, I'll assist you with the preparations that will permit you entry into the clean room."

In a short while the four had managed to suit up and had exited the cleansing chambers. Now they stood before the sealed, domed crystal sarcophagus that contained the body of Symeon's child. Murky fluid that had been used during the process where inert elements in the genetic strands of DNA were replaced with the actual Web particles of the girl's mind was slowly draining away, exposing the naked flesh of the girl reborn.

Symeon fussed a little when the girl's natural beauty was revealed, but quickly forgot that when he witnessed her lungs take their first gasp of air and heard, through special listening devices inside the sarcophagus, the quiet _thump, thump, thump_ of the child's beating heart.

"She's alive!" Symeon shouted through the speaking tube inside his helmet, jumping up and down in excitement. "She's alive! My little girl lives!"

Hanna took Symeon's hand, smiling, while Drorli grinned, replying, "Well, she almost lives. Right now you are watching the mechanics of her body coming to life, actually much in the same way your first ancestor did. It will still take some time, a day or two, for the Web particles of the mind to fully attach themselves to the flesh and wake."

He rested his hand on the crystal cover, looking down upon the girl, adding, "Our child will not be officially alive until this ongoing process reaches completion. This interlude between life and... and however you wish to describe it is called the 'vision hour'. The very process of the mind's reintegration will cause profound dreams and visions, some being remembered into revived consciousness. It is also a time when Mother might play in the person's mind, filling the head with all kinds of wonderful visions and prophecies."

Drorli looked up at Symeon. "I believe that Mother will do a lot of that with the child. Already she has played with her while our girl slept in the Field of the Minds. I doubt Mother will stop now - not now when she is so close to having her little darling near to completion."

Hanna laughed, "You speak as though our girl is but a toy of Lowenah's."

It was Drorli's turn to laugh. "Why should you think I meant anything different? Mother never toils. She plays at everything she does. Everything... All of her creations are her playthings. Oh yes, the Rebellion has hurt her, almost destroyed her heart, but it is still a game to her. Everything has always been a game."

"How can that be so?" Hanna asked, confused. "How can she view all this terrible wickedness and destruction as a game? It makes no sense to me."

"That's because..." Drorli gently poked Hanna on the arm, "that's because you view playing through the mind of a child. What you do not see is that Mother never expected that inner child in us to ever go away. She made us to always be busy at play. Work and toil are inventions of an evil age. Mother refuses to gather her heart up into that mindset, so she continues to play at everything she does."

The girl suddenly let out a howling cry, quickly followed by some rambling mumbles as her eyes fluttered open and then closed. Symeon cried out in despair and then joy as tears streamed down his face. "She spoke! My little child spoke! She spoke to me!"

Drorli attempted to explain to him that it was only the mechanics of the body responding to electrochemical charges surging through an awakening brain. Symeon would have none of it. The girl had spoken to him. He knew it and would believe nothing else. Drorli silently smiled, letting Symeon have it his way.

For the better part of two hours, the four remained beside the crystal sarcophagus. Symeon and Hanna learned the attendant's name was 'EurwhaNeehaa', that the woman was a child born in the latter part of the First Age, and that she and Drorli had a very close relationship that went back before the age of their own star system. Eurwha was a pleasant, patient-natured person much like Drorli, but she was more serious in disposition.

Finally it was time to depart, Eurwha urging Symeon on with encouragement. Gently taking his arm, she slowly led him toward the exit chamber. "Possibly on the morrow we will be delivering your girl to her new home. We are depending on you and dear Hanna to have everything ready for the child's awakening. Remember, the less the shock to her senses, the faster she will gather her wits to this place, which means the sooner she will be ready for your company."

Symeon longingly looked back over his shoulder, nodding dreamily. "Yes, I have much to do, and there is so much I wish to tell her, so many things from that day long ago."

Eurwha took Symeon's arm, gently moving him along. "It will come. It will come. Much sooner than you realize, it will come."

Later, when alone with the two, Drorli spoke about Eurwha. "War is so destructive, ruins so many wonderful things. Eurwha was such a carefree, happy person when the world was innocent." He sadly frowned. "The woman was badly broken when a flaming wall collapsed on her during a bombing raid at our outpost on Stargaton. When we dug her out of the rubble, I could not believe her still alive. Along with so many bleeding fractures and severe burns, Eurwha's skull was nearly crushed. She eventually healed, but something inside her head changed. It was many years before I saw a smile cross her lips again, and not a laugh have I heard from her since that day over a thousand years ago."

He grinned, winsome. "Eurwha's a good, dear, lovely companion. I personally requested her company on my team when the offer was made me to set up the rejuvenation machines for the delivery of your kind to this place. She has assisted me with the arrival of every one of your kind, her pleasant face often the first of my kind that your people see after waking into this world. If your kind carries a single vision of angels in their heads, I assume it should be that of Eurwha's soft, smiling face as she welcomes them into our world."

The late afternoon sun found Hanna and Symeon making their way along the narrow street that led toward the railstage that would take them to a tiny village some miles east of Palace City. It was the location where all those who arrived from the Lower Realms first awoke. Although most of the work was now finished, Hanna wanted to make sure every detail was just perfect for their girl's returning. They also needed to prepare for the roles they were to play assisting Ishtar.

As they passed out through the gate leading to the street, Symeon spied an acquaintance sitting on a bench near a tiny fountain beside the ancient wall that ran from the gate off into the distance, enclosing a beautiful garden park. He waved his hellos, being in too much of a hurry to stop and chat. As he neared the exit, he shouted over to his acquaintance, "She's here! Our girl's come back to us!"

The man sitting on the bench waved and nodded, smiling grimly. For Symeon this was a day of joy. For that fellow, it was a day of dread. The man looked down at the flowers in his hands, flowers intended for some of those who rested in the Silent Tombs. Sirion would like it that way, to know that her companions had not been forgotten since her departure. The man hoped his business this day would conclude soon enough for him to make that promised delivery.

Why now? Why him? Could not the gods have picked a better candidate for this mission? He was no hero, did not deserve this place for any reason, especially to assist this wonderful goddess about to be reborn. So worthless the man felt, so miserably worthless...

Drorli arrived when the man was at his gloomiest and quietly sat down on the bench beside him. "Well..." Drorli grinned, "She's here...will be up and about in a day or two."

The man continued to stare down at his flowers, tears welling up in his eyes and running down his cheeks. Finally he looked over and into Drorli's face. "Why me? I am a most abhorrent person, the worst of all mankind! I murdered the girl, wished to satisfy my passion with her and then handed her up to murder. A vile man am I, not deserving a thing. I don't even deserve life, and look, here I am in this world, a place so pure and holy. I deserve not even a place to rest my foot. Why me?"

Drorli patted the man's shoulder. "Why you? Well, I only deliver your kind here. Someone with a lot more authority than I have decided your arrival. You're here now, so you better make the best of it. I'm going to..." He leaned forward, looking intently at the man. "I think I will have need of your services... maybe. I've studied this girl's history. She was a bit feisty back then, and I'm afraid she might become a little bit more so before she settles down here."

The fellow slumped forward. "A fate worse than death I feel is upon me! She will hate me forever...despise me! I deserve it...deserve it and a whole lot more." He looked over at Drorli. "And there's no place for me to run away to. Not here. Not in this world."

Drorli looked at the flowers the man was holding, knowing their purpose. "Come," he stood, "let me go with you this evening. I also wish to give honor to my little sister. I, too, love Sirion and hurt over her capture. Come and we can talk along the way. A livery coach is soon to arrive. We shall commandeer it to deliver us to the Silent Tombs."

Slowly the man nodded. "All right, I will go with you, but don't expect me to be a cheerful companion. Too much is on my mind and heart this night for me to be offering up pleasantries."

Drorli grinned, "The better for it, it is then. You tell me of your gloom and I shall listen to your masterful tale. Let's be on our way."

In a short while the two were on the coach headed for the Silent Tombs, leaving the garden park alone to itself. A gentle evening breeze arrived at dusk, carrying upon it a lilting melody filled with joy and anticipation, announcing that a world was ending and another was about to begin.

Unseen eyes watched from behind the ancient walls as the motor coach scurried away into the gathering darkness, contented and pleased. Yes, a new age was about to begin, and the Fates had chosen these two men to help welcome its arrival.

* * *

Darla gracefully pirouetted about the floor on tiptoes, arms spread wide and fingers gently holding high the flowing ends of her sheer silk cape. Once more she slowly pivoted before turning to stop, facing Lowenah, dropping her arms to her sides. She stood there, an absolute vision of mesmerizing beauty except for the sour look on her face.

That look only soured the more when she watched the dancing twinkle and growing toothy smile on Lowenah's face. "Beautiful! Oh, so beautiful!" Lowenah exclaimed, clasping her hands together in pleasure as she spoke.

Lowenah's excited compliments did nothing to soften Darla's expression. She turned her head to study the person standing there in the mirror, sputtering, "I look like a whore...some Canaanite whore!" As she continued to examine the woman in the mirror who was also examining her, she felt a strange, erotic sensation growing within her breast, soon followed by a troubling ache in her groin. The woman in the mirror was seducing her. Wait! She was that woman!

Darla quickly broke her hypnotic gaze and stared at Lowenah, crying out in a pouting whine, "My heart burns to have relations with the woman in the mirror. Mother, I want to make love to me! Mother, what are you doing? What have you done to me?"

Before Lowenah could reply, Darla's eyes were drawn back to the erotically stunning woman standing before her. The visual image alone was making the girl's heart race with desire. Suddenly, without warning, Darla began groaning with delight as one orgasmic spasm after another rushed through her. How long she lingered there surrendering to her lustful desires before forcing her eyes away from the bewitching woman in the mirror, she did not know. On wobbly legs, she made her way to the bunk and sat down beside Lowenah, exhausted.

Lowenah's laughing eyes looked deep into Darla's. "Did my child have a good time? Isn't it amazing what a few little baubles and some paint can do?"

Darla did not immediately reply. Though embarrassed over her reaction to viewing herself in the mirror, she desired to linger in the sensual embrace of such a profound experience, wishing not to hurry those feelings into haunted memories. Still, she was uncomfortable with what happened.

Darla was not one to practice self-arousal. Only when the wine was on her or when in a deep melancholy mood did she surrender to her inner cravings. To her mind, such feelings were to be reserved for when she was wrapped in the arms of another lover, a rather rare occurrence for the girl. Other than Euroaquilo, who was away most of the time, and the occasional impassioned interlude with Zadar or Mihai, lovers were few and far between. Now, just an image - and of herself - and her body revolted to indulge in primal desires. And she had consummated that visual union with such ardent intensity that her legs could barely carry her weight to the bunk. This was unsettling.

Lowenah rested her hand on Darla's knee, patiently allowing the woman time to bask in the afterglow.

Finally Darla broke the silence, speaking up, confused and a little dismayed. "For what purpose, Mother, have you done this to me, to make me so abhorrently seductive that I cannot gaze upon my own image without wetting myself in excitement?"

Wearing her motherly grin, Lowenah replied, "Why not become excited over your beauty? You do not see your true nature, but there it is in the mirror, seducing even you."

Darla shook her head, denying it. "That is not me, not in my true nature. Look, I was not born bedecked with jewels and ornaments, with painted eyes and toenails, and my skin tone is milky white. You have made me burn my flesh with those tanning machines until dark like ochre I have become, looking little different than those temple prostitutes who sold their flesh for the honor of their gods."

Lowenah frowned, putting on a little pout. "They did it to honor their gods, maybe. You honor me, and never once have I asked you to sell your flesh to do so. Yet, if they so willingly gave of themselves to honor wicked and evil gods, am I demanding so much to ask you to attire your body in these trappings for me?"

It was Darla's turn to frown. "You know that for you I would cut out my beating heart if it so much as pleasured your soul for me to do it! Everything I have is yours to do with as you please, even if it be only on a whim. This, though, I do not understand." She pointed at her clothing and jewelry. "Why now, at this prisoner exchange...and why me?"

Lowenah looked her child up and down, musing. Darla certainly was an erotic sight to behold. She was adorned with baubles and bangles galore, from her bejeweled, braided gold headband and ruby-inlaid chrysolite ear bobs to the ivory pearl necklaces and tinkling bells on her anklets, along with the bracelets, armlets, nose pins, and several other and, at times, provocative piercing pins. And, oh yes, Darla's rich, thick, long, dark brunette tresses were tied into a thousand finely woven braids that swaddled her body half way down the girl's back, each braid supporting dozens of sparkling jewels that glistened bright when the light shone upon them.

These things alone made Darla very alluring, but Lowenah had done so much more to prepare her darling for the upcoming exchange. A red, tooled, diamond-studded leather belt, a handbreadth in width, rested snuggly on the woman's curvaceous hips, supporting an elegant short sword dagger encased in a black diamond and red ruby sheath. "It is better for them to see deadly beauty than a helpless maiden," Lowenah had said when asked about it.

Also hanging from the belt was a highly decorated sporran, placed there in a halfhearted attempt to cover Darla's womanly beauty, its very iridescent design made to captivate the searching eye, encouraging it to seek a peek at the hidden treasures beneath. Other than her flowing, sheer silken cape, the sporran and belt were all that covered the woman's naked flesh. There was also a pair of red, open, high-laced sandals of the finest snakeskin for Darla to wear, Lowenah saying it would help protect her feet from the blistering sands.

Oh yes, there was one more item of jewelry that Lowenah so much desired her girl to wear, an item that troubled Darla - a golden chain consisting of thousands of minuscule bells hanging from two clasps, one each piercing a nipple on Darla's voluptuous, spherical breasts. When she moved, the bells would explode in whimsical, rhythmic melody, unheard by the ear but stirring any heart attuned to their harmonic music. The chain was not heavy and did not tug uncomfortably when she moved, but the silent music deeply troubled the woman with a pining ache, the tinkling bells being so close to her heart.

Lowenah offered her toothy smile, one that could melt away the foulest of troubling moods. "You are so beautiful, my child! Dear one, you bring back memories from so long ago."

Darla did not smile, asking, "But why now? Why me? I am your horse maiden at this upcoming affair. As I have asked before, why do I need to appear as some forgotten Canaanite dancer who sold her flesh to the demon gods?"

Lowenah sighed, looking down at the floor. "Long ago, long before you were born, long before Michael, Euroaquilo...why, long before most of my children were born, my darling Tolohe and my oldest son, Chrusion, led my other children in all the grand festivals. There were seasonal festivals, harvest festivals, birthing festivals, singing, merrymaking, going and coming, and... and I guess we had a festival for just about anything we could think of.

"Those were truly grand times back then. At first I hosted the festivals, sharing in the closing evening celebration myself. Chrusion and I made such a wonderful couple, you know. There were times I became so wrapped up in my feelings for him that I secretly desired to hurry time along and carry him away into my immortal worlds, to have him just to myself. Oh yes, that was so selfish of me, but so what, it was how I felt about matters."

Lowenah took Darla's hand, squeezing it. "Rachel, my little ewe, back in those times, life was so innocent and carefree. My son was a very loving man to me, caring and gentle. I was his favorite love for many eons, for ages upon ages. I gave to him the dream shares that he gave to Tolohe and others. I shared with him so many secrets from my immortal worlds, wanting him to desire those worlds, for I planned to take him away to them eventually, intent on giving into his hand everything I had made."

A dark shadow crossed Lowenah's face, it disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Lowenah cleared her throat. "Back to my subject... Tolohe and Chrusion would often dress up in gaily-colored costumes that represented animals, birds, clouds, what have you, and feelings, emotions, too. They would then dance and sing tales to match the costumes they wore, always ending their stories by falling into each other's arms and making the sweetest, most beautiful love one could imagine.

"In time, Tolohe's dancing became most seductive, sending the gathered throngs into a heated frenzy. I must tell you, along with the sweet wine flowing freely, Tolohe's sensuous moves and romantic love songs she cried out to the night as she and Chrusion made their love set the crowds ablaze with a fever of passionate interludes, winsome songs in romantic dream shares."

She looked into Darla's eyes, the excitement of those times dancing in hers. "Visualize in your mind's eye the Valley of HausterZion filled to overflowing with millions of my children all singing sweet love songs to one another, all at the same time. The musical refrains of my children's unleashed passions, and later the joys of their dream shares calling out to the immortal worlds..." She rolled her eyes back in fond remembrance. "It was enough to fill the heart with boundless delight."

Casting her gaze toward the closed panel door, Lowenah peered off into the past, recalling with wistful melancholy those happy times. "The merrymaking and feasting might last for days. The Grand Festivals, during the time of the Great Junctures, went on for months. The sensuous dance and song was only outdone by the feasting and flow of intoxicating wine." She looked at Darla, her eyes sparkling with delightful memories. "The blood grape grew heavy in the mountains preceding those wonderful festivals. Love's madness consumed us all, we burning up our energy with laughter and wild romance."

Tipping her head back, Lowenah sighed winsomely, "We would eventually wake in the afterglow of our fervid exuberance and, in ones and twos, gather in the morning quiet to reflect on the good times that were had. As the sun would rise into the sky, the Consort Divine would begin singing the Parting Song, soon to be followed by another voice and then another, until the entire throng had lifted their voices in chorus. When finished, a haunting silence would fill the entire valley. Gradually, the children would quietly depart, leaving the valley empty until the time of the next festival."

Darla squeezed Lowenah's hand. "Those must have been beautiful times, Mother. I missed so much by being born so late. Tell me, please, how those magic days portend the future days at this prisoner exchange."

Lowenah smiled sadly, her dreamy visions of past fantasies clouding over with regrettable memories as she looked down at Darla's hand. "That was the way it used to be, back in the days of my naivety, when all the universe was innocent."

She sat upright, her eyes staring into Darla's. "My little Rachel, I am sorry for the things I have done to you, must do. I do not do things on a whim, but pain I cause when necessary. Please forgive me."

Darla did not understand, but nodded. "Mother, there's..."

Interrupting, Lowenah patted Darla's hand. "Thank you. Now allow me to go on."

Lowenah sat back, pulling a leg up until her foot rested on the bunk. Wrapping her arms around her knee, she leaned forward, staring aimlessly toward the door panel. "Winds changed, sending a subtle chill through our worlds. It was so small a change, so small that I could not, would not...mmm...refused to acknowledge it. But there were other hearts that felt the whispers portending hidden dangers. Those hearts spoke to me and I, even though I would not accept their warnings, was persuaded to listen and accept their recommendations. Thus the legends of Lagandow with its wizards and witches and sorcerers and magicians were born."

Darla watched an aching frown drift across Lowenah's face. She sat, silent, as her mother closed her eyes remembering, remembering times and seasons, might-have-beens that were too painful to recount. During those moments, her mother's face aged, weathered, you might say, like an old tree that leans with the wind because it is too tired to stand tall. Mother was a good actor, but Darla could tell that this was real, no act here. Even for Mother, there were some things just too evil for her heart to recount.

Lowenah slowly opened hers eyes, offering a weak smile. "My dear Tolohe was the first of all my children to gather her spirit to those Voices. In time, many thousands of years... longer than have been the ages of your life... my little girl returned to me, changed by the visions and dreams of possible future days. I was not pleased with what the Voices had done to her, but I continued allowing it until many of my children had followed my daughter's footsteps into the dark abyss."

She began to slowly rock back and forth on the bunk. "My oldest child, Chrusion, made a half-hearted attempt to journey into those other worlds, but in the end refused to go, eventually even questioning the legitimacy of those who placed their feet upon that path.

"Imperceptible at first, at least to my blinded heart, a rift began to grow between my favorite son and daughter. In time, the festivals became little more than a practiced ritual for Chrusion, playing the part of the prince because his brothers and sisters demanded it. I guess Tolohe's heart broke way back then, but I was unwilling to accept it, wishing to keep the wonderful world of my invention just the way it was supposed to be... just perfect. There was no place for unhappiness. I refused to allow its existence! I would not accept that my daughter could be anything less than happy. I did not give an audience for her heart's anguished release. I would not contend with her tears, would not permit them."

Lowenah stopped, sadly staring down at the floor. "I made my little child suffer silently in dreadful agony all those countless ages from that time forward, denying there being anything at all wrong in my perfect little universe. Everything must remain as I had made it, as I had dreamed it, as I must have it. Perfect! It had to be perfect! Everything must remain dreamily perfect. After all, that had been my design from the very beginning. It was my world, my dream, my vision. No one had a right to spoil it, even my cherished, little child."

In silence the two sat there, Lowenah gently stroking Darla's upper leg while looking down at her other hand that was wrapped around her knee, pulling it close to her breast. Darla stared deeply into Lowenah's face, pondering, wondering. Who was this person sitting next to her, the one giving her birth? Was she really her mother? Had Darla truly been born?

Darla was the youngest of all of Mother's daughters, having only been told stories about her birth. For her, those stories were all based on faith. She did not remember her birthing, or the day of rage and rebellion, nor did she remember Chrusion, the kind and gentle lover, the festivals, Tolohe's anguish, or even Mihai's attempted murder. All these were little more than tales spoken softly in her ears at times in her life when she was expected to make important decisions. For all the years of this wicked age, Darla had accepted, through faith, all these tales as though they were truth. She had accepted them all, unquestioned, as though they were fact, and she lived her life according to those facts.

Now, at this turbulent moment, newm disturbing revelations were being poured out upon her in a flood, too many revelations at once, and for what purpose? Was it true that she accepted them all with mere faith, and was it with possible credulity she was expected to accept these newly revealed truths, too? A shadowy foreboding crept out from behind long-secreted doors of doubt, making her troubled heart jump in a confused beat.

It was at that instant that Lowenah glanced over into Darla's face, the girl's disquiet and uncertainty apparent. 'So it is. So it shall be. Yes, so it must be,' Lowenah sadly mused in silence. The hour was soon coming where faith could not win the day. The child must choose to battle using forces other than faith. A silent war waged between mind and heart would decide the fate of all mortal things in that hour. Another eagle flew in the skies of hope, must fly, for the bird of faith would fail the day. 'Yes,' Lowenah thought, 'another bird must win it.'

Lowenah was playing it close to the edge. The fate of the universe rested on the decisions of one person, and that was cloaked behind the facade of a prisoner exchange. All life hung in the balance on that decision made, as it had so many times before, yet her children did not know, had not known, and would not know of even this coming day's uncertainties, would not know until...until all the links in a very uncertain, fated chain were forged into one unbreakable mass, the last of those links welded in when Michael would finally unleash her demons to the eternal abyss.

Lowenah allowed her foot to drop to the floor as she leaned close to Darla and began playing with the girl's fingers. Looking down at Darla's hands, Lowenah quietly continued, "Then, one day, a woman, my daughter Anna – she was called 'Krystolenia' by her lovers in those days, meaning 'Solar Spirit' – my beautiful daughter, Anna, came forth to dance before the crowds at the Great Juncture Festival of Lauaninue. Yes, back in those early times we gifted names upon all our important festivals. My daughter's dancing was so alluring and sensual that, from that day forward, all of those great events were called the 'Festival of Krystolenia'.

"Anna was dressed much the way you are this day. Why, even the bells that dance upon your breasts are closely fashioned after the ones she wore at that time. Well, I must tell you, for centuries my child had secretly practiced the rhythmic, erotic moves she flawlessly performed that day. Men and women alike swooned and passed out in a faint from the intoxicatingly mesmerizing dance and crying prose presented by my daughter. Chrusion was so smitten by her performance that he found his thoughts taken up by only her enchanting memory, so much so that he was unable to consummate the final love dance with Tolohe, his ardor refusing to rise to the woman's sensuous advances."

Lowenah frowned. "I thought little of it at the time, just how devastated my darling Tolohe must have been to be so publicly humiliated for failing to raise the ardor of her lover for the consummating dance at the end of the festival. She finally, most graciously, called out for her younger sister to gather her charms to the Host of the Festival in order to complete the ritual. Never again was she invited by Chrusion to conclude the consummating dance in front of their brothers and sisters. And never a word in revolt did she utter, but silently she stepped aside, giving that honor to her younger sister."

Shaking her head, Lowenah lamented, "Not a word did I speak about this matter either, not wishing to see the real trouble brewing between Chrusion and Tolohe. Tolohe was a woman in question in Chrusion's mind, he not even desiring a dream share with her any longer. On the other hand, Anna was new and fresh, open to his suggestive reasoning, willing to perform every act of emotional, mental and physical desire that Chrusion's heart could imagine.

"One of the many things I refused to see at that time was Chrusion's growing selfishness, although signs of it were so evident. One was his refusal to allow Anna to ever publicly perform that deliciously provocative dance again. Even her accompanying music and sensual lyrics were forbidden at the festivals, he saving all of those things for his private viewing. It finally reached the point where Anna would seek out her lord's approval before she surrendered to the request from another of her brothers for a dream share. I said nothing, did nothing, living in my looking-glass world of make believe, seeing only what I wanted to see."

She sat back quickly, patting Darla's leg. "Well, I may have paid no attention to my little girl's torments, but other eyes were watching. They looked with disapproval upon my wanton acts of parsimonious desires, but said naught to me at the time, tired, I suppose, of the unhearing ear that had greeted their many whispers so often in the past.

"They are also the Protectors of my heart's carefree abandon, always seeking ways to relieve my soul of troubling thoughts. So, again those Whispering Voices rose to the occasion and gave to my heart the very things it wanted, they realizing the price must one day be paid for such foolishness. But, until that day came, I would be allowed the happy fool's dance - the only thing I wanted at the time.

"Still, a warning they shouted out to the universe, to me. A chill swept through my heart the day that Lagandow exploded in fire and rage. I knew deep inside those voices were angry - angry because they saw the dream I was living might ruin me and destroy everything I had created, and angry because they knew my heart must break before I would listen to their pleas concerning the growing discord in my perfect universe. To regain Heaven, I must cast all my children into Hell, and then follow them in. All good things must burn to nothing if we were to see good things again. This is why they became angry.

"So the sands of forgetful sleepiness they cast upon my world, giving to me the blissful, innocent existence I desired. But, alas, to bring that they placed a shadowy pall over the watchful eyes of those appointed to protect my world from the coming storms of dismay. My little child, Tolohe, was swaddled in the arms of those Whispering Voices, they easing the girl's heartbreaking agony so that she could survive the ages until her hero would arrive to give her a rebirth. They did what I should have done, but refused to do because it would have forced me to admit to things too abhorrent for me to see."

Lowenah's head sank, her shoulders slumping in forlorn guilt. "So we slept, I slept, playing in my make-believe world of dreamy bliss until... until the reality of my favorite son's discord forced me to wake. But even then I did little other than to warn him of the danger through simile, afraid of hurting his feelings. Until my daughter's attempted murder, I didn't little more. That day, my lovely little world crashed and burned to ashes in its Armageddon, I almost destroying you in the process."

She looked into Darla's face through tear-filled eyes. "There is no absolution for me, I too wanton in my evil to deserve any. But I must go on in order to return to my children the things they deserve. So I play a dangerous game on the very edge of extinction, consuming the lives of my children to return to them a hope for an end to the evil I created. I am Rhiannon, having chosen that fate to buy time for the ending hour's arrival. I must destroy my very children to give them hope. This I have been doing for so long now, and must continue to do."

She squeezed Darla's hand, tears flowing freely. "So, too, my darling little one, must I do with you. Please forgive me for this wickedness, but there is nothing else for it. I must find succor for this internal ache of a foolish heart. You are the cure, but the price is very high and, in my selfishness, I am demanding it of you. This coming day you will die or will live but, for you, will it even matter anymore? I am Rhiannon. I must feed upon my innocent little child to see this ordeal through."

Though surprised, Darla said nothing, feeling that she carried within her soul sufficient strength to best any of Asotos' machinations. She also refused to believe what Lowenah was telling her, thinking it to be one of her mother's melancholy moods that occasionally came over her, especially when telling stories concerning her rebellious son.

At length, as her mother's tears subsided, Darla softly replied, "Whatever you wish is my desire. The tales of the long ago past are most intriguing, but they do not answer my question regarding the costume you have adorned me with."

Lowenah slowly stood and turned to face Darla. Bending forward and placing her hands on the girl's knees, she answered, "Allow me, please, to return to my account, for I have wandered far from the road we were walking.

"Chrusion's passions continuously grew for Anna, she often being the only woman he chose company with. For months at a time, they would seclude themselves away in hidden places playing love's game. I thought nothing of it because many of my other children would play such games of love. It was not until long after the Rebellion that I came to fully understand the subtle changes in my son's heart. Somehow, in some strange way, Anna managed to breach that growing chasm, the rift widening between Chrusion and his sisters.

"After this world's last festival before the Rebellion, when I witnessed the affection my son showered upon my daughter, Michael, I began to believe that my son was returning to his former ways of caring for his sisters. Why, he even willingly opened his heart to my charms, allowing me to gift him with a priceless treasure, one he never gained knowledge of. I did not see the malice and hatred hiding behind his hypnotic eyes as he whispered such sweet refrains into the ears of his sisters, my ears. Indeed, it was some time after my world crashed in ruin before I understood the true depth of the man's revolt."

Lowenah closed her eyes as if in pain. "It was shortly after the Memphis wars, when Legion captured the temple city, murdering its defenders. Chrusion requested a moot, seeking a reconciliation for this terrible misunderstanding, or so was his claim. We gathered at Mt. Point...'Mt. Olymphiant', or 'Legion's High Place', as you know it to be called, in the Middle Realms.

"I assembled there with my court, Gabrielle, PalaHar, Tizrela, and... and so many other great viziers from the early ages. Chrusion came forward with his many minions...little, servant girly-men dressed up in seductive, womanly ways. Shocked I was, my eyes not believing what they were seeing. True, many a romantic night I had witnessed my sons share with each other over the ages, but never as a replacement for my daughters. These men were no longer men, but abominations of the flesh, throwing away their manliness to the point of covering their breasts with womanly attire, and to even cutting away their own testicles and suturing their vocal chords closed in order to speak effeminately.

"This tale I know you have heard before, but not from my tongue. So listen, please. Bear with this teller of old tunes and stories, for in the past is where my glory resides."

Darla sat there, dumbly staring into her mother's face. She did not like it when the destructive mood came along. This night it was particularly obtuse, filled with self-denunciations and loathing remorse. Why now? Mother might become morose in the quiet hours when the wine flowed heavy on lonely nights, but not at times like this, and never with Darla alone, by herself. Something was up, but Darla could not figure out the cause or the reason.

"Well," Lowenah went on, "soon I realized that Chrusion's request for the moot was not an attempt to resolve any conflict. No. Conflict was what he was searching for, some way to humiliate my daughters and me, to destroy our self-worth, to declare his contempt for all womankind.

"Chrusion continued to flaunt his girly-men in front of us, finding reason to have them exhibit their femininity. When I made comment in disgust, he flew into a ranting rage, revealing his true pretense for the meeting. We all were shocked silent as he went on in a tirade that lasted oh so long, decrying the women of this world with the vilest of vulgar terms and gestures, fit for little more than way holes for the men of his world who had not yet lifted themselves above such abhorrent abominations of nature.

"Finally, in red-faced rage, he screamed, 'You have played the saint over us for too long, knowing full well the deficiencies of women are beyond reconciliation! Only the men weak of mind can find such contemptible beasts pleasurable. Empty nets of barren hooks they are! Their breasts are giving childless suck and their thighs of little more worth than to provide a gloved hand for a wanting cock! What they are lacking between their legs is only compounded when searching their empty minds, windowless dustbins of fickle emotions!'

"He waved a hand toward one of his girly-men, crying out, 'You know full well your secret treachery, that women are putrid manifestations of living abortions, drunken convulsions produced after your sleeping with the wild swamp pigs!'

"Bending the man low in front of him, Chrusion took his excited, swollen ardor and thrust it deep within the man. 'See! This is love the likes of which you and your whoring bunch can never give!'

"I remember little of the following moments, it passing like a gray mist before my eyes. I sank to the floor in sobs, unable to make reply, my heart still aching with love for Chrusion. In tears I sat, pleading, begging him to leave off his dastardly acts.

"Gabrielle was not so weak-minded and feeble of heart. A fiery wrath exploded within her breast and, in her passionate rage, she grabbed a buttress pike from the hands of PalaHar. On a run, the woman charged Chrusion, smashing him hard across the face with the shank end of the shaft, driving him backward so that he fell into his gathered lieutenants. In less than a heartbeat, she had turned and, with a screaming cry, charged the pike up through the man, bursting his heart with the spear's point.

"As the man lay writhing upon the stone floor, Gabrielle turned again, facing a bloodied Chrusion. Raising her arms up and outward, she cried out in the voice of the Immortals, speaking words unuttered in these worlds since my first child suckled at my breasts. The air became thick and heavy, a dread falling upon all hearing the curses being pronounced. Suddenly, a blinding light flashed across the room, followed by deafening thunders. Gabrielle now stood the gallant witch, child of darkness, her spirit ablaze with the powers of the Whispering Voices.

"At that moment, I looked up to see my darling daughter become a pillar of blazing fire, calling down evil on all men living and dead that should act in villainy against the Maker of Worlds. She now pointed a hand at Chrusion, causing his manliness to erupt in an excruciatingly hard erection. As he moaned in stunned agony, Gabrielle swore an oath against him. 'I do swear in the name of my God, our mother, and all the Spirits beyond that, until you have consummated the Covenant of the Virgin with seven thousands of these most detestable of creatures, the burning fire will remain alive in your loins, and your aching manliness shall not rest in ease!'

"At that, Gabrielle and her companions gathered up their weapons and drove out the contemptible host, slaying many of the girly-men as they went fleeing into the night. Later, Gabrielle departed for the Lower Realms, bringing to fiery ruin the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah and all the cities in the surrounding districts as a warning to all that there would be no tolerance for wicked acts done against her mother."

Lowenah bowed her head. "I am so ashamed that it was my little girl who displayed such love and care for the person who had shown so little empathy for her..." With tear-filled eyes, Lowenah looked into Darla's emerald green pools of innocence, sighing sadly, "And now I am about to destroy another of my daughters. What else is there for it?"

Darla glanced toward the mirror and then at Lowenah, smiling, "For you, it will be a pleasure to be destroyed. Death for such a cause is most to be desired." She then asked, "Still though, why is it you send me to my destruction wearing the garb of a prostitute or maybe a festival dancer?"

Standing up straight, Lowenah turned and, with hands clasped behind her back, slowly began to pace. "To bring Gabrielle's curse to a finish, Chrusion found the seven thousand willing women to perform the consummation of the Virgin Covenant with him, but afterward he refused the intimate company of any of his sisters. Anna did not join in the Rebellion, but remained close to Michael in her hour of need, attending to her desires down to this day. There existed no women that Chrusion found enjoyment in until..." Lowenah's hand went up into the air, she shaking her finger, "until a darling little Canaanite girl found herself dancing in the temple of Ashtoreth. When his gaze fell upon the woman, his heart beamed with an excitement not felt by it in many hundreds of years. He was so smitten by her that he sought somehow to bring her into his world, through vision, trance or reality. It mattered little other than to have her. Before he was able to accomplish his purpose, the girl died in a raid upon her city, Chrusion never forgetting the people who took the girl from him."

She stopped and pointed at Darla. "The value, my lovely One, is that the Fates may play the fiddle at this exchange in such a way that rescue may be provided for a child that is so dear to me and yet is in such great peril... peril that she is unaware of."

Darla's face filled with curiosity, asking, "So how will my garb rescue Sirion and the others from Asot... oh... Adelphos' clutches?"

(Author's note: _Although Darla respected Lowenah's desire to not hear the name 'Asotos' in her company, she refused to speak the name 'Chrusion' concerning the man, using 'Adelphos', meaning 'brother', instead_.)

"Sirion?" Lowenah mused, "Sirion? Yes, she might benefit as well as the others. I do not speak of her or them when I mention the coming danger."

She again sat down beside Darla, taking her hands while searching questioning eyes. "The one I am referring to is so much closer to me at this moment. Why, the innocent waif has no idea of the danger she is in. Even now my little girl stands the precipice of damnation, yet sees no danger. At this coming prisoner exchange, I must cast that little child so dear to me into the murky waters of tempestuous uncertainty. There is little hope to be found there, but none if her journey does not pass through them."

Darla asked again, "Who, then, is the child so foolish that she does not see the danger, yet chooses to plunge headlong into those murky waters?"

Lowenah sat silent for the longest time, peering toward the doorway. Finally, in a whisper, she answered, "You..."

A chill ran up Darla's spine as her face went ashen. Although she could not yet comprehend the evil road, she began to grasp the gravity of coming events. Mother was warning the girl about certain dangers so profound she did not have the words to speak that could give understanding to the girl's heart. Whatever it was that Darla must soon face remained clouded in mystery until it lashed out at her soul to destroy it for, even if Mother could find the words, Darla realized that she would not understand their meaning.

Gradually, the impact of Lowenah's lengthy retelling of the history of Darla's world began to sink in. The girl's growing unease turned into an unsettling dread soon followed by an overpowering fear the likes of which she never before experienced. Mother would not toy with her child's emotions, not now, not today. The danger to her then must be real, unimaginable, damning.

Cold, clammy sweat began to ooze from Darla's pores, carrying with it a sickly odor of hopelessness. What was she to do? A brave and fearless warrior she was, standing her ground against the greatest of foes. Could it be her demon's growing power? No. Since Euroaquilo bested it three nights ago, it quailed at even her lone presence in that tortured land. A cold shudder racked the woman's body. Then what was the unknown dread that haunted her very existence?

Her pale lips quivering in fright, Darla asked, "So I will die tomorrow?"

Lowenah closed her eyes, nodding, "Tomorrow you will die...or live."

Darla looked into Lowenah's eyes just as she opened them. "Mother," she began to quietly sob, tears running down her cheeks, "my life has been a prison of evil dread. I am tortured by both the good and wicked. I have been torn by the enemy's spears and cut by my brothers' words, but still it has been in life that I have done these things. No matter how horrid and miserable it has been, it has still been life. If I die tomorrow, I know there will be no returning for me. To be gone forever is a greater dread than my heart can fathom. You must help me, please."

Lowenah tenderly stroked Darla's arm, sadly shaking her head. "You are the master of your fate. You must choose, decide. Weapons there are at your disposal. All but one will fail you on the morrow. Still, it must be of your choosing which one you will carry into battle with you."

Peering deeply in Darla's eyes, searching her heart and soul, Lowenah smiled forlorn. "There is hope for you. You are a powerful warrior in many ways. Remember, the sword is of little value when your opponent is far away, and the lance may well fail you in a narrow passage. Choose wisely the weapon you will carry."

"But Mother," Darla cried in anguish, "how does the blind man see the vulture until its claws have ripped away his face, or how does the deaf mute hear the serpent and cry out for help? I do not hear my enemy, nor do I see the field of battle. How do I choose? Please! I am your servant girl. Please help your slave girl in her hour of tribulation!"

Lowenah shook her head. "A slave cannot survive forever as a slave no matter how benevolent the master. Only a free person will find success upon the field that you must tread. A free woman you are, and you must stand as a free woman tomorrow. You must choose your own path, a slave to no person, including me.

"This one warning I can give you, and heed it well. There is ever a warring going on within, two souls in one body, one heart. The one soul is always searching for ways to enslave the other to gratify its own cravings. In times of peace, we will surrender the one to the other and we shall find merry success but, in times of war, we must not allow its influence for it will seek the pleasant, easy road, the deadliest road. It is truly a treacherous ally."

She looked away and then back, staring into Darla's tear-filled, questioning eyes. "Sometimes the lesser of the two evils is the most dangerous and deadly. Tomorrow you must stand as a free woman, choosing life or death as a free woman. No slave will survive the morrow. The weapon you carry must be one of your choosing, for only you will know how to wield it."

After kissing Darla's tearstained cheek, Lowenah leaned back, smiling. "My little Rachel, it is I who ride in faith on the morrow, faith in my little girl. I believe she carries within her soul the most formidable of weapons to gain success. I trust you more than any of my other children regarding this one thing. I believe that tomorrow I will witness your power and might - your power and might expressed to the limit. I know you will be successful."

Patting her arm, she added, "Besides, you do not face the enemy horde alone. I have given you Phulakee," she grinned, "the little sword you carry at your side. It may come in handy. Don't forget it. Remember, Mother does play her games, but she is not frivolous with her preparations. Besides the garb of a sensuous consort, I have included the tools of a warrior. Use them both wisely and succeed."

There were some whimpers accompanied by quiet pleadings for further guidance. Lowenah again shook her head, denying the request. "The hour upon which the future of the entire universe will pivot draws near. You are the tiny stone chosen for the coming hour. For good or ill, I will cast that pebble into the sea. Tomorrow, regardless of the outcome, I must do this thing. Already the clock has struck the final minutes. I will not, cannot stop it."

She turned her head away, not wanting Darla to see her tears. "I have put this hour of test off for far too long already."

Darla reached out, touching Lowenah's upper leg, stroking it as she had done hers. "Mother, please, one more little question for you, just one. Should I fail in this battle tomorrow, how will my death come?"

Lowenah stared back into Darla's face, hers filled with unexpected consternation. It was not a question she had prepared for, but the girl deserved an answer, an honest one. Lowenah sighed heavy. "My little Rachel, do you love me?"

Darla was surprised. "You know I love more than life itself. Life is not worth living for me if you're not in it."

Lowenah smiled, "Then I believe you will succeed."

Darla frowned. "I did not ask what you believe, but what of my death should I fail."

Lowenah at first hesitated, but finally relented. "You deserve to know. I will tell you." She took Darla's hand. "The heart is like a two-edged sword. It can cut both ways, for good or ill. You, for your part, must understand which way it is cutting, for it is tricksy, wanting you to believe it has your best interests at stake. Should you fail tomorrow, it will not be because you have chosen wickedly, only poorly. Still, the lasting damage will have been done that cannot be undone.

"If you choose poorly, you will not die, not in the flesh, not tomorrow, but your demon cure will be lost forever. The demon that resides within you will never be cast from you, but will grow until it and you are one in spirit and flesh, eventually driving your insane. No rest will ever come again to your soul, no peace, other than an eternal sleep in the Web of the Minds, if that is even possible. I doubt I could tolerate such a future for my little Rachel."

A tiny shudder ran across Lowenah's shoulders and down her spine. She feared that eventually, in her own grief, she might well go insane over what became of her little child, blaming herself for all Darla's suffering. Then, in an attempt to ease a breaking heart, she would go wild with power, in a rage and bring to nothing everything mortal that she had created in order to forget the anguish.

Should that happen, the worst of her nightmares would become reality. All her wonderful children, living and dead, would be no more, and the Whispering Voices would see to it that she would not remember it happening, they being the self-declared caretakers of her heart. Later, much later, from a deep, self-induced coma she would one day blissfully awake to a new and empty universe. Then, under the watchful and caring eyes of the Whispering Voices, she would begin anew, in innocence, the making of another universe of children to satisfy her heart.

Lowenah's lips twitched nervously as she pondered that uncertainty. Had this happened before, she having gone mad with a broken heart? The Whispering Voices would never tell her. If it had, they would make sure there would be no evidence remaining, no clue or hint of some forgotten past. Lowenah's heart would be held safe. That was their charge, their chosen way of loving her. But had it happened before, her worst nightmare, had it happened?

Lowenah smiled weakly. She thought not. She did not remember it to be so, and even though the Whispering Voices would not have told her, they would have found a way to convince her to build her new universe in an unbreakable fashion, something they did not do. She also felt it in her bones, so to speak, that this was the first great experiment of hers, the first of her mortal creation. It must be so. She wished so hard for it to be so.

"What will happen then, Mother?" Darla asked, fearing the possible answer. "What will happen to you, to my brothers and sisters, to all those I love if I fail?"

Gently rubbing Darla's hand, Lowenah answered reassuringly, "Oh, I think you worry too much. Tomorrow will bring us success. All you need to do is be my horse maiden, and I expect you to do a good job at it."

Lowenah then began to fuss with Darla's attire, asking the girl to stand so she could have a better look. Darla knew it was impossible for her to get any more answers from Mother now. The girl's heart ached with countless, worried questions, but she knew that even tears and pleadings would not pry further information from the Maker of Worlds when the silent mood was come to her.

Darla dutifully permitted Lowenah the pleasure of wrapping her attention around her little child. She could see the trepidation hiding behind dancing eyes, uncertainty upon her words. Darla decided to allow this moment, pretending not to notice. Mother needed reassurance, too, to be made to feel there was hope, and Darla would offer that to her as best she could.

As Darla slowly twirled, arms held high, she started up a silly, jaunty tune sung long ago when she was but a little child...a silly ditty, but those were the kind of tunes PalaHar sang for little children.

" _Oh come the merry spider dee,_

To weave its web between the trees.

A happy song she so did sing

To catch a fly upon the wing.

But the fly did watch with its many eyes,

And in its escape, made the spider cry.

* * *

### Section Seven:

Uncertain Morning

A chill raced across Euroaquilo's shoulders and down his back as he watched a blazing sun rise above the frozen desert plain. In a few hours, the heat of the day would boil away little ice droplets formed during the night, a cloudless sky cooking all naked flesh exposed to its anger. This planet's harshness limited the variety of life, small lichen, bugs, snakes, lizards, insects, and a few thick-skinned, hairy animals all that managed to survive here.

A little tarantula-like spider scurried over Euroaquilo's foot, disappearing under a small rock. The man watched until it buried itself, shooting small jets of sand into the air as it searched to find some of the previous day's remaining warmth. The man smiled wistfully, revealing his private concerns. "Go hide, little fella. If I could, I would do the same." At that moment, Euroaquilo heard the fall of familiar footsteps behind him. He raised his field glasses one more time to scan the horizon then turned to see who approached. "Hello, Captain Asarel."

"Euroaquilo! I was told that you were wandering hereabouts." The captain extended a hand, smiling, lifting his other hand, shading his eyes as he studied the eastern lands toward the rising sand dunes. "What a dismal world we choose to make peace in. Far better for war, don't you think?"

Euroaquilo reached out and firmly grasped Asarel's hand, answering with another question. "My brother, war or peace, does it really matter? Hasn't it always been either a warring peace, or a peaceful war which we've contended with our mischievous brother? Now please tell my why you've tramped across these evil wastelands to find me. I hope your searching has been to deliver good news. It would be a shame to spoil my pleasant mood so early in the day."

Asarel released his grip, jovially responding, "If it was bad news, I would have sent my first officer. No need me facing your anger this early in the day." Throwing his weight to one side, placing his right hand on his hip, he looked into the sky. "Mother says the weather should be pleasantly mild today. You know, when she predicts the weather, she's usually right." Turning, watching a bright orange ball slowing ascending in the turquoise-colored sky, Captain Asarel's long officer's cloak fell away from his side, revealing plated armor and a long, sheathed derker sword.

Euroaquilo smiled grimly, "You look quite the prince of armies - a handsome prince, no less - but I supposed you to be a sailor of ships. Why the armor?"

Asarel grinned, "Well, Admiral, you look quite the soldier yourself, what with your helm and side weapons. More of a general here I see, not some commander of ships."

Turning to face the sun, Euroaquilo sucked in the warming air before replying. "You miss it, don't you? I mean the whole army thing. I do...the banners, troops of mounted cavalry, endless rank and file of soldiers marching off in battle formation, the horns, fifes and drums, the grand pageantry."

He faced Asarel, studying him. The captain was tall and muscular, broad-shouldered. His black, curling locks and glistening, dark, swarthy skin made him look the part of a battlefield gladiator, not some gentleman captain walking the bridge of a frontline battle cruiser.

Asarel bowed his head, slowly nodding. "Yes, I do miss it, at least the pageantry part...not the fighting and killing. Still, when you and I drew our swords together on the battle plain, it felt different. Even amongst all the carnage and turmoil, there remained some sense of freedom. The open sky, wandering fields and distant hills gave you height and space the likes of which I've never found inside the confines of a tin can that might cast you to the eternal cold of space at the least expected moment." He shrugged, "But someone's got to fly them. Might as well be us."

He looked up into Euroaquilo's face. "That's not the reason for my marshaling appearance this morning, my friend. I've smelled something that makes me feel uneasy this day, went to Mother regarding it. She said to keep my wits about me and a keen eye. That's why I came to talk with you. I don't feel safe here. A foul smell fills my nostrils and it worries me."

Euroaquilo looked up, studying the eastern sky. After a quiet moment, he replied, "I hoped it was just me. Something's queer here, and I can't put a finger on it. It's like a shadow has followed us from Palace City to this place, a shadow filled with malice. Whether for good or ill, I cannot tell. It is wise you have listened to Mother and prepared yourself. I wish our new sister-king had done as much."

Asarel stepped up beside Euroaquilo, his fisted hands resting on his hips. "Brother, long have I stopped fearing death. Indeed, at times I am overwhelmed with guilt for having outlived so many of my companions. What I fear is our failure to win this contest. Today... today will we really win, or will it end as it has so many other times before? Oh yes, we'll bring our lost kindred home, but at what cost...another star system, priceless trade goods, our respectability, our honor... if we have any remaining?"

Folding his arms across his chest as he continued to stare off toward the distant horizon, Euroaquilo quietly answered, "We will not fail. Not this day. Mother has not journeyed here with us to watch us fail. We may all be destroyed, falling by the axe, spear or arrow, but we will not fail."

He turned to meet Asarel's watchful gaze. "This is a new day in our history. The demons of Asotos' own witchery now ride with us. They have a debt to collect on. No, today Asotos has a bill to pay! It may cost us all whatever we still have left to lose, but it will be collected, I guarantee you. The children from the Lost Abyss will make sure of it.

"That Trisha person has changed the game plan. She and the others with her - like Garlock and Copeland - they don't play by our rules, walking in the shadows of the moon, choosing their moment, striking at their pleasure. Yes, sir, they are the true shadow walkers, being oh, so dangerous when the waning moon fails to give its light. They have come from the grave not to deliver our world but to destroy it. This I believe they will do. So it is." He smiled grimly, "I think Mother has accompanied us here not to protect us as much as to check the hands of those children from the Lost Abyss, to slow down their destructive desires, I mean, you know, to keep things moving on her time schedule."

Asarel slowly shook his head, puzzling. "I accept what you say as truthful and accurate, but for myself have little knowledge of these strange creatures. I rode to war beside the Lady when Aphrodite and her Dragon children raised swords against Legion and his holy knights, but that was many ages ago and in a world very different from this. Few are those holy Dragons that have been delivered here. Most are just common folk who were of low station and little importance in their old realm. I know not what power or determination of will they possess in this world. The few who have arrived here I have met only from a distance, except for Commodore CythereaNoah'ha, but she acts more like our kindred than her own. This new field marshal, TrishaQaShaibJal, and your Garlocks, and the like, they are a complete mystery to me. Mother chose to bring them here but, as of yet, I've not seen the reason."

Euroaquilo glanced around wearily, replying quietly, "I can tell you this that I do know: The reason, I think, will come soon enough, possibly as early as this prisoner exchange. I was at the last council meeting, indeed, sitting at one of the very council tables. That woman, Trisha, silently searched each of our minds, the way Mother will sometimes do when the mood is on her. I felt the woman's power boring deep into my soul, stripping my heart naked before her. That woman unleashed a storm upon us that few have fully recovered from yet, and I suppose may not recover from. Today... today she will reveal her powers again, or at least I believe she will. Those powers may well rival Gabrielle's, but I doubt the woman has mastered them to the full. What Mother will allow her little darling to do is still to be seen. But I think Asotos will be surprised, to say the least."

Asarel's eyes danced in wonder as he thanked Euroaquilo for this hidden information, then apologized, "Great would be the privilege to spend an hour, a day, listening to your revelations and insights, but I would be remiss in my duties should I allow that. Mother sent me in search of you, wishing your company at breakfast. I arrived early so that we could speak concerning matters close to my heart. Now, though, the time is past for continued discussion. I sensed a need on Mother's part, much like a child when it has a secret so much to be shared. I hope you're not upset with my dallying in telling you."

Euroaquilo grinned, "I wish all my officers' reports were so troublesome. No, I also needed this time to clear my mind. It may well be a long and difficult day. This has prepared us both for what may arrive upon us. Are you coming, too, for breakfast, I mean?"

"I will walk back part of the way with you," Asarel answered, "that is, if you would like my company. I've already breakfasted, and I must stop by the ship to check out some of the special equipment requested of me by Zadar, our new field marshal's adjunct. If there's time, I may come along to see what the fuss is all about."

Euroaquilo merrily nodded and then, with Asarel at his side, headed back for camp, the two men chatting about their army days and all the good times they shared back then.

The camp was bustling with activity when Euroaquilo finally arrived. He had been waylaid by his captains and other officers who were hurriedly attempting to finalize their duties in preparation for the prisoner exchange. It had been only by the middle night watch that the main body of transports and supply ships arrived at the landing site, being held off-planet until scouts could reconnoiter the location and secure its perimeters. At first light, work crews began their laborious activities of readying trains and supplies needed. Euroaquilo entered the camp just as the night crews were standing down their duties and being replaced. By the time he arrived for breakfast, the morning chill was little more than a memory.

"Well, it's about time you came!" A famished Zadar hurried up to greet Euroaquilo, taking the man by the arm and nearly dragging him along toward the dining tables. "I'm half starving, having to wait breakfast until this outrageous hour because of all my duties. Then, after arriving to dine...far past a reasonable serving time... I was informed that food would have to wait until his Lordship makes an appearance. Well now, let's hurry along, your Lordship, so that I can get a little grub before I'm accused of dallying and forced to resume working on an empty stomach."

When the two arrived at the table, Euroaquilo was accosted with a steady barrage of complaints coming from several others who protested in similar fashion. Finding no defenders in the seated crowd, Euroaquilo began an animated delivery of the perilous adventures he endured just to arrive back in camp when he had. The man was such a good teller of tales that everyone allowed him several minutes to relay his account of desert rats and flying lizards, and his narrow escape from giant, hungry tarantulas.

At length, Tizrela stood and kindly silenced him. "Now, please, my Lord, you've woven a tale fit for a book, and as long. Take your seat so that we may not expire from hunger!" She pointed toward an empty campstool near the center of the table. "The cooks have already threatened us with the burnt remains of the morning's fare. Save the tale of your stalwart account for the evening's fire."

Nodding politely while continuing to defend his tardiness, Euroaquilo managed to get to his seat. What with all the jovial handshakes and banter, it took him more than the usual time. Being so absorbed in conversation, he barely noticed whom he sat across from until Lowenah shouted her hellos above the din of the others' merry chatter. Grinning from ear to ear, the man went on telling her the remainder of his daunting story, not paying much attention to the hot cup of brew pushed into his hand by a busy steward.

Lowenah said nary a word, silently smiling while resting her chin on folded hands, her elbows on the table. All the while the food was being served, she watched with mischievous eyes as Euroaquilo continued on with his account, so absorbed in its telling that the man paid no heed to those around him. On he went, even after his hot vittles had been delivered.

Finally Euroaquilo picked up his fork and, while still talking, began stuffing the scrambled breakfast into his mouth. About the third fork full, he chanced a glance to Lowenah's right, his mouth falling agape, nearly dropping his fork.

"So what happened then?" Lowenah asked innocently, her eyes twinkling with impish delight.

Euroaquilo did not hear a word Lowenah spoke. Blinking twice, believing his eyes were playing tricks on him, the man stared into the face of the most erotically enchanting woman he ever remembered seeing. It was several seconds before he realized the woman was Darla.

"Da...Da...Dar...yo... yo...you..." Euroaquilo stuttered, dropping his fork. "You..."

"I look like shit!" Darla sputtered, disgusted with all the undue attention and uninvited, ogling stares since arriving for breakfast. And this was not the first fellow to have dropped his fork today. Too, the steward had accidentally spilled juice on her this morning, paying no attention to his duties. What even surprised her more was the number of willing volunteers seeking to help clean up the spill. There was even one officer who held on to her hand far too long when offering his assistance. The girl felt she must be a most pitiable sight to behold.

Lowenah laughed, asking innocently, "So what happened next, you about to be eaten by that giant tarantula. What did you do?"

Euroaquilo did not hear what Lowenah asked. In fact, he was oblivious for the moment that she was even there. Indeed, the man sat so dumbstruck, he forgot he had a mouth full of food...well, did have a mouth full. The portion of his half-chewed breakfast remaining between his teeth looked quite the sight, some stray, juicy particles slowly dribbling down the man's beard.

"So what did you do?" Lowenah inquired again ever so innocently, though her eyes betrayed that innocence.

Darla frowned, uncomfortable, leaning toward Lowenah. "You see how shocked he is? I have lost one of my few lovers to this outrageous costume!"

Darla's movements made the tiny bells suspended on her ornate chain explode in sensual, harmonic rapture. Every man within five paces of her stopped whatever he was doing and listened to the mesmerizing music, silently searching for its hypnotic source. Euroaquilo clenched his fists, closing his mouth in a smiling grimace as he struggled to control a sudden aching in his groin. He fought with desperation a growing desire to leap across the table and passionately ravish the alluring creature so shamelessly teasing him with her charms.

Darla was almost in tears, believing that Euroaquilo's reaction was because of her abhorrent appearance. Lowenah reached out and placed a loving hand on her arm, at the same time extending the other hand and resting it over Euroaquilo's clenched fist, soothing ever so slightly the man's raging ardor. Euroaquilo's unruly passions gradually began to subside.

Lowenah looked into the eyes of a very confused Euroaquilo, who was still struggling to bring his tortured emotional desires under control. Smiling, she asked him, "So, how do you like my darling creature now?"

Searching to find energy to speak, Euroaquilo eventually answered, "What witchery is this? Only last evening, your darling creature and I shared sweet romance together, her loving caresses soothing and exciting me in powerful ways, yet now I sit here with such passion for this woman that I fear for her rape if this table did not separate us. What spell have you cast upon me?"

Grinning, Lowenah answered, "No spell have I cast. Yes, a little magic, but none that has not existed among the Ancients from long ago. In ages past, your older sister, Anna, danced to the delight of all the children in such a costume. Isn't that right, dear?"

Anna had been silently observing Darla and the reaction the men were having over her, pondering the reason why the woman was dressed in such a fashion. Frowning, she quietly responded, "Yes, Mother, but it was in times long forgotten. Why does my sweet little sister parade her flesh in such garb this day? For what reason does she appear as a dancer in one of our festivals? It is not by accident that you have attired her so."

Everyone within hearing distance was listening intently to the conversation now, many of the men glancing longingly at Darla as they waited to hear Lowenah's reply.

Lowenah's hands had not moved from their hold on Darla and Euroaquilo. "Well," she innocently answered, "a festival? A festival...well, it is sort of a festive day, or will be when the others are returned to us. Oh, but that wasn't my reason, and I do have more than one.

"First, being a horse maiden is such a thankless duty, a very important one, but very tedious and thankless, nonetheless. I thought I'd add a little sparkle to it. I remember as if it were yesterday just how much attention your wonderful attire garnered from the crowds when you danced for them those many ages ago. 'What fun it would be,' I said to myself, 'if I could give just a little bit of that attention to my horse maiden.'

"Another reason was I wanted my child's hero here" she nodded toward Euroaquilo, "to be in a passionate frame of mind this day. You know he has just been working so hard - both my darlings have - I just wanted them to enjoy a good time after returning from the prisoner exchange tonight." Lowenah grinned, teasing, "That is if someone else doesn't woo her first."

Anna scowled, not content with Lowenah's answer, but said nothing, eventually turning away and chatting with some companions on the other side of her.

Euroaquilo remained there in a half stupor, fantasizing about this enchanting creature sitting across from him. After Lowenah mentioned the possibility of competition, he began suspiciously glancing around at the other men, jealously wanting to protect his private possession.

Darla still did not understand what all the fuss was about, but she had seen that passionate gaze in Euroaquilo's eyes before, especially when the wine was on him. She looked at Lowenah, questioning what was happening.

Waiting until things had quieted down and the others had returned to their meals and conversations, Lowenah leaned nearer to Euroaquilo, her smile fading. "Son, I suggest you remain behind with the ships. I will need you this night, your girl will. I have done what I have done this day to prove a point to myself, but to also prepare you for future events. Darla will remember your heated desires and how you are waiting for her return. That is a very important matter. So, will you be a darling and stay here?"

Euroaquilo smiled, nodding. At that, Lowenah squeezed his relaxed fist. "Good," she grinned, as some of her magic passed into him. A tired rush swept over the man. Barely able to keep his eyes opened, he requested to take his leave. Lowenah approved. Excusing himself from the table, Euroaquilo slowly made his way to his ship. After reaching his cabin, he fell forward into the bunk, fast asleep within seconds, dreaming about the astonishingly beautiful woman with dancing emerald-green eyes who would soon be snuggled in his warm embrace.

* * *

Mihai stormed aboard DishonPele, bursting through the officers' wardroom door, demanding to know why her lieutenants were dallying. After a lengthy rant, she complained accusatively, "And where are my gauntlet gloves? I need officers who support me, not ones who carelessly throw obstacles into my path. Don't you realize just how serious a day this is?"

Trisha slowly rose from her chair, motioning with her hand for the others to remain as they were. She turned to Mihai, offering a polite salute while bowing ever so slightly before addressing her. "My King, we were about to conclude the meeting. Already adjuncts are seeing to our mounts and the supply train is being readied as well as are other preparations for a successful retrieval of our companions. We..."

Mihai snapped caustically, "Good officers should be at their posts so that others can see their preparedness! Hiding behind secreted walls does not reassure others that one is prepared. Now, may I suggest, Commander, that your officers finish what little needs still to be prepared outside where watchful eyes can observe their activities."

The suspicious tone carried on Mihai's words did not go unnoticed. Trisha chose to ignore it. Turning to her lieutenants, she calmly addressed them and recommended they take their leave and conclude business elsewhere. As the officers shuffled out through the wardroom door, Trisha asked for a moment alone with Mihai.

"Outside, too!" Mihai scolded. "There will be no secret talk this day. And tell me truthfully, where are my gloves?"

Trisha did not immediately reply. Instead she led the way from DishonPele and down its wide belly ramp. By the time they had reached the ground, the other officers were scattered, seeing to whatever remained of their duties. Turning to Mihai, Trisha kindly answered, "I will tell you where your gloves are, but only if you first promise to allow me a private conference with you."

Barely able to keep her growing anger under control, Mihai fumed, "When does a yearling order about the leader over the herd? Tell me what I ask and I may consider your request."

Trisha smiled politely, "My Lord, the entire herd may well leave the leader should the yearling signal that it has found water, and then even the leader will follow it. Now I ask for such a little thing, only a few moments, but most important to this yearling it is. This filly seeks knowledge and wisdom to accomplish its task. Should it not then be given the attention by the aged in order to accomplish that purpose?"

"All right! All right!" Mihai growled. "I will give you a few minutes. Now tell me where my gloves have been hidden!"

Mihai's actions were drawing attention of passersby as well as several of the work crew. Trisha gently but firmly took Mihai's arm. "Come along then, please, to a more private spot. Too many are the innocent ears listening. My queries are for my king's ears only." With that, she tugged on Mihai to follow her.

After several paces, Mihai stopped up short, demanding, "Enough of this folly! Tell me where my gloves are!"

Trisha looked deeply into Mihai's angry eyes, her dark, opaque orbs hiding all emotion. "My Lord, when we have reached the place for moot... Do not be concerned, it is not out of sight of the ships and crews. There are guards at the ready should you fear my loyalty and want to call for their assistance."

Mihai did fear Trisha's loyalty, not in a treacherous way, but in possibly being a clumsy oaf. She was concerned about the upcoming prisoner exchange and the part Trisha was to play in it. Mother had put her in such a difficult spot by making Trisha the field marshal, the chief steward, second in command next to the king, thus making her the upcoming archon.

What was Mihai to do? This Trisha creature could not be trusted with such tremendous responsibilities. One little blunder, one slip of protocol and all might be lost. The very lives of all the prisoners rested in the hands of this untested, uncaring ignoramus. The woman had never been to any formal parley with the enemy. Why, she had not even personally met Asotos! Mihai must do something, but what?

"Lead the way." Mihai harrumphed. "But only a few minutes... Some of us have important matters to conclude and little time for childish travesties."

Ignoring the cutting remarks, Trisha motioned, "This way, my Lord." Together, the two walked toward the edge of the camp and past the guards until they were some distance out of hearing range.

Releasing Mihai's arm, Trisha turned to face her, respectfully requesting, "A word, my Lord."

Mihai's response was instant and resentful. "Tell me now, where are my gloves? I've played your little game long enough. Answer me! What have you done with them?"

Trisha's tone changed. Though respectful, her words were blunt and direct. "Point the accusing finger at yourself and stop playing the pious one. Your belt hides the treasures that you seek." Mihai's angry glare turned to dumbfounded shock as she glanced to her side. "How? When," she stuttered. Then shaking her head, she cried, "This is not possible!"

Placing her fists on her hips, Trisha leaned forward, looking up into Mihai's face, mildly chiding, "This is the third time you have troubled us with those damn gloves, and each time they were found on your belt. Four times breakfast has been delivered to you, only for you to go off in a fussing rant over some unfinished assignment. Your poor horse has been saddled three times, at your request, the grooms no sooner done than for them to be ordered to remove the saddle to curry the beast again."

She shook a finger in Mihai's very surprised face. "You have disturbed the entire camp, troubled my officers with petty demands and silly, yeomanly orders, and driven everyone to distraction. Get a grip on yourself!"

Clenching her fists as her face reddened in growing rage, Mihai angrily rebuffed Trisha. "The prattle of chatterers should be saved for wasted moments of meaningless leisure! Be off with you now! Go talk to the squawking jaybirds. I've no time for a mindless cuckoo!"

Trisha's cold, black eyes bored into Mihai's, her expressionless face unflinching, but her reply was icy. "I don't waste your time with trivial matters. The future success of our mission rests upon decisions made and executed. You have not been acting in a responsible manner. This..."

Mihai seethed, shouting in Trisha's face, "You stay out of my business, you! I've more important matters to attend to than to listen to a piss-wart from forgotten lands preach to me about my world! I should have replaced you that night at the council after watching your abusive tantrum. What do you know about..."

Trisha reached out and grabbed hold of Mihai's jacket, shoving her face up close, snarling fiercely, "Now listen up, you goddamn fool! All Hell can wait on us today! It does wait on us! It waits on you!"

Taking a step forward while pushing Mihai back, Trisha verbally accosted her. "One builds the fire with the fuel at hand. Well, all you've got is this miserable piss-wart! Now shut up and listen. You've set this universe ablaze by your very existence, burned it all to Hell. Now it rages all around you and you blame everyone else for the flaming conflagration. Goddamn it, Michael, this day is far bigger than you! Way bigger than you..." Trisha released Mihai and turned away, lamenting, "Damn it all! It's bigger than all of us..."

Spinning around, she shook her finger in the face of her stunned, speechless adversary. "The very history of our worlds pivots on coming events. God, our very future will be measured by the outcome of this day! Woman, if you foul things up for any reason, you will not only destroy the very ones you have come to save, but you'll bring to ruin everything that exists, has ever existed! You screw things up today and even Sirion will curse you, should she live that long."

By now Mihai had regained her voice, unleashing a scathing rebuke. "You are more stupid than the women who followed Asotos, believing he could still give them the love he once did! Do you really think that I am not fully aware of the dangers facing us this day? It is you I fear more than the talking dishrags we must face at the prisoner exchange. You impious, impulsive miscreant! How Mother allowed your rebirth here other than to test us out, I do not know!"

Trisha shot back, poking Mihai in the chest, "Who's the little fool? You! You still love the man who destroyed you! You want his favor, his acceptance! You still want his bed, to reawaken all those fond memories from long ago. Your mother has given you lovers, but you treat them like little children with big cocks, something for your night pleasures, but unfit for your confidence. Romance the women to satisfy your heart, if you must. Not all of them love you, but only sell you such sweet delights for the price of stealing your dreams!"

Mihai was furious, slapping Trisha a stinging blow across her face, bloodying the woman's lip. "So the bitch-child calls the mistress a whore-chaser? Worthless shit-weed, despoiler of all good things in this world, usurper of underserved power...you steal for yourself the very heart and soul of our favorite son by binding him with bewitching potions so that he can see only you even in his dreams! And you call me a whore? Go back to the ashes from which you came...and that's even too good for you!"

Trisha took a hand and clutched hold of Mihai's blouse with an iron grip, yanking her forward until their faces nearly touched, unleashing a torrent of vile rebukes, the woman's bloody spittle spattering Mihai's face. "I'd rather be returned to the dust or even delivered to Gehenna than this hellhole your kind has created! Never did I ask to be here and given the choice, I'd leave... leave you all to your righteous self-pity! But now I'm here, stuck here! And now my kind has to bail your sick asses out of the mess you got yourselves into! I've a job to do, like it or not, and you're not getting in my way. I'll take you down, and anyone else if necessary, if you give me trouble!"

She violently shook Mihai, nearly ripping her blouse. "Now you listen, and listen good! I'll do whatever it takes to accomplish our quest! Anything! You mourn the absence of your Lady, being stuck with this far inferior shit-weed. Well this shit-weed is here and there's nothing you can do about it! Fool," Trisha angrily sputtered, "don't you see? You were set up! Set up by the man your heart still seeks acceptance from. Asotos raised the threat level to the colonies, forcing you to abandon the fleet to none other than your most qualified officer, Gabrielle. Now you're stuck with this shit-weed to act as archon. Oh, what a pity! As if someone in your frame of mind could do better. What are you willing to offer him to win his favor this day? He wants your soul. Will you give it to him?"

Mihai pushed herself away, wiping her face with the back of her hand, pausing to compose herself, then scolded Trisha in bitter rebuff. "What Mother saw in you, I don't know! You're unfit to be a gutter waif, let alone a field marshal. You will not be my archon this day, I promise you that! Better the desert rat than you! Now be off! I've no more time to waste with the likes of you!"

Trisha took a step forward, glowering as she caustically replied, "You have no authority over me! My appointment was authorized by Lowenah and through the council, at your very request. By your own mouth, you are bound by all the powers given me." She grinned ruefully, "I stand guard over your wretched soul, sworn by oath to protect it as I see fit!" She stepped back, glancing toward the ground. "I am the fuel delivered for you to build whatever fire you can. Lowenah will not provide you with any other." She looked back into Mihai's face, wearing a sneering smile. "You're stuck with me!"

Mihai was stunned. Who was this miserable little creature to tell the king what could and could not be done? With haughty rebuff, she shot back, "Then I will not use you at all! I have a large enough army with me, and... and several outstanding and trusted officers to do my bidding. I'll build my inferno with them!"

Leaning forward into Mihai's face, Trisha shook a finger, hissing, "You have no army!"

Mihai fell back as if receiving a blow, Trisha following her in. "By your very own command, you demanded an oath of fealty from all your kindred to give their allegiance to me. To me! Do not play the fool and attempt a coup this day. Should you try, you will fail, and all your world will be damned forever more!"

Mihai's face turned white as she clenched her fists in a shaking rage. All she wanted to do was smash this, this, detestable thing, and rid herself of it. What a putrid little creature... But Trisha was correct. Mihai could not risk a rupture in the company's loyalty, not now, not at such a tenuous moment. She pondered the situation. There was one...no, two faithful companions she could trust for their unflinching allegiance. She wasn't defeated yet.

Regaining her composure, she glared aloof at Trisha, politely snarling, "You play your little game for now. When we return, I will take this matter up with the council. In the meantime, I would kindly like you to remove your carcass from my ship, it only a fitting place for qualified officers. I do have the authority to demand that, don't I?"

Trisha silently nodded.

"Good!" Mihai replied condescendingly. "May I suggest that you ship aboard one of our animal transports for the return trip? I believe the accommodations will suit your admirable qualities better. You may even find some use for your talents there, seeing you once were a camel maiden and gatherer of dung chips."

Trisha bowed her head. "Yes, my Lord, that I will do."

"Good!" Mihai waved a rebuff and stormed away, leaving Trisha standing there, silently watching her go.

Other eyes watched, hidden from sight by distant rocks. An angry voice quietly cursed the woman standing there. "It reeks with evil malice! Why do the others not see? Die it must..."

The sound of a blade being pulled from its scabbard was interrupted by the camp horns calling an assemblage of the company. The voice cursed softly as the sword was returned to its resting place. "Another time... Another time..." it hissed as it slunk back into the shadows.

Trisha sighed, tears beginning to fall as she leaned back against a boulder. Her heart breaking in anguish, the tears became a torrent and the woman began to weep uncontrollably. Why, oh why, must it be this way? She loved Mihai so much. Every statement, every word she had accosted the woman with was a stabbing blow to her own heart. But what else was there for it? Mihai must face the Great Dragon this day, the anniversary of her attempted murder by the man. His powers were tremendous, and Mihai's so diminished. At least for the moment she would not be thinking of him, dreading her encounter with him this day. Now Mihai had someone new to hate, fear, feel contempt for.

The horns blew again. Trisha slowly began to make her way back to camp, tears still running in rivers. She had done what a good soldier does, no matter the cost. She was a good soldier, wasn't she? For a moment, doubt swirled around in her head. Yes! Yes, she was. Like a caring mother will sacrifice everything for her troubled child, a good warrior will give no heed to the danger to self and sacrifice everything for the betterment of the others. She was a good soldier.

A sudden rush of loneliness swept over her. She had not intentionally stolen Zadar from the others, but she did want to possess him, share him with no one. She shook her head. Still, she held no malice toward anyone, and had requested Zadar not to surrender his heart to only her. Zadar was a free man, but wasn't she a free woman, one with a heart that burned with lonely desire? She was not a whore, never had been. All she ever wanted was to be loved, just a little selfish love. Was she being a whore just wishing to seek love?

A vision from long ago filled Trisha's mind, bringing a wisp of a smile to a forlorn face. There, before the open hearth in the little mud hut she once called 'home', the woman sat holding her newborn daughter, playing with the little baby's fingers and toes. The kettle merrily bubbled away, steaming soup filling the room with delightful aromas. Those were such wonderful times, the early days of her innocence. Oh, how pleasantly painful the ache to think of those days, to be returned to those days.

Looking back toward the camp, Trisha watched Mihai's shrinking figure in the distance. How much like her own daughter might Mihai really be? Had the child lived, what would she have become? If... Wasn't this the very reason for her being here, to make sure her daughter would live again, awake again, but into a much better world than the one she left behind?

Mihai was her child now, her ward, her responsibility. Self-pity could not be permitted today. Trisha was delivered here to for a reason. Lowenah did not play the fool with her. Today was a new day. Asotos was going to be put on notice that he no longer has the upper hand. There was a new power rising in his world that he was going to have to contend with - a power that would eventually destroy all the evil in this universe and drive him from it.

Blinking tears away as she lifted her head up, Trisha smiled, determined. Today the universe was being put on notice. Now everyone would see that the children from forgotten lands had gathered up Hell and had delivered it to Heaven. They were the true Dragons, Warlock Magicians, the Holy Knights and rightful bearers of those titles. They would no longer skulk about in hidden places, waiting for permission to speak or be spoken to. This was the beginning day of their glory. No more lurking in the shadows of the moon. Today, in naked power, they would shine for the all the realms to see...and fear.

Trisha smiled wickedly as she tramped back toward the camp. "Yes! Come all ye saints of D'arth and listen and be afraid! Hear the cry of those who were dead and are yet living. Shudder, for the ending hour is upon you! Fear the day of small beginnings! Fear us!"

* * *

A giant, black shape loomed above, snarling its defiance as it lunged forward on the attack, only to vanish into the mist. Oh, how peaceful and quiet, to rest without dread or care. So this is death? How sweet it is, like a friend and companion, a mother giving suck. No fear, no pain, no feeling at all. 'I am a free woman at last, as Death is my witness and a silent tomb my lover... a free woman at last.'

' _Fa-boom...! Fa-boom...! Fa-boom...!_ ' Rhythmic explosions rolled across the fathomless expanse of nothingness. ' _Fa-boom... ! Fa-boom...!_ ' Thunders suddenly overpowered by an oppressive roar of violent winds tore through the senses only to fade into silence, and then again gather up the storm in a returning as the tempest rushed by once more like tortured waters returning to an angry sea. Over and over, fierce winds raged, all the while the frantic booming echoing across the oppressive sky of silence.

Eventually the tempest eased until it sounded like little more than an agitated breeze gently pushing its way through orderly rows of long-needled evergreens, the boisterous booming quieting until it beat a lazy 'thump, thump, thump'.

While the music of this lullaby gently rocked the universe, a fiery red glow awoke within the surrounding blackness and rose as if from a heavy mist, slowly turning the universe of darkness into a flaming inferno, filling the entire expanse with its writhing clouds of tortured fires rolling like an angry storm across endless skies. The blinding brilliance of the crimson fires grew in glory until it consumed the mind in a maddening ache. And there was found no escape from it, for the powers of the flames only intensified...no escape from it until in time the blazing cloud mass tired, having spent its mightiness and it, too, was gathered up to the endless expanse, spreading its flames out across the entire universe and setting it ablaze in a smoldering haze. Yet, even then the fires, too, were not happy to remain, slowly being consumed in a growing radiance that eventually flooded the world in the purity of its whitened brilliance. Oh, but alas also for the powers of these wondrous fires, the darkness of black refusing to surrender its throne, pressing ever inward until the mightiness of the blazing, white light shrank in its glory, it gathering up its defeated army into a smaller and smaller defensive circle until it, too, silently retreated back to the nothingness.

The sounds of the consuming breezes and the gentle thumping also soon fell under the spell of the blackness until they sang gentle, sleepy songs like that of quiet waters lapping upon sandy beaches. Now the blackness came near, gathering up all the senses in its loving, swaddling bands, cooing softly a melody of restful refrains.

" _Sleep now, my little one._

The day is sweet and young.

Tomorrow is soon enough to wake your dream.

So long you've slept, so long it's been.

So rest, my little one, and care for naught.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, it's soon enough..."

A piercing cry shattered the peaceful darkness, quickly followed by the pounding of massive valves from a giant pump accompanied by roaring winds. Again and again, plaintive wails tore against the silent expanse as surging floods pressed upon awakening, confused senses. Gradually, like a hungry, newborn babe feasting upon nursing teats, those same senses relaxed with the conscious realization of their own existence.

"I am she!" a remembering mind shouted out to a silent world, it not yet aware the body in which it resided still slept in peaceful silence. "I am she!" the mind cried again, remembering a name that it had so long held dear.

Quickly following this revelation, a torrent of jagged memories rent that jubilation with an overwhelming bewilderment of truncated visions, each demanding to be the sole center of attention for all those racing thought processes. From this maelstrom of perplexity evolved a kaleidoscopic cacophony of dreams that stupefied an uncertain mind, eventually forcing it to create self-induced worlds of dreamy hallucinations.

It was during one of these dreamy episodes that this sleepy mind suddenly reached out to the body in which it dwelt. The power of a hand opening and closing its fingers sent excited chills racing up and down countless nerves of the rapidly awakening body. Then came joyful cries from a mouth obeying the orders of an exulting brain. Suddenly, by the sheer willpower of a cognitive mind, two laughing eyes opened upon a spinning, blue world of dizzying pageantry.

Although awakened to its outer self, the inner being was still a slave to the current masters of its secret universe whose fingers were not yet done playing these rhapsodic chords of Fantasy's music, all the while painting upon a paramnesian tapestry with Illusion's maniacal brush. Long remembered would some of those dreams be, as disjointed adventures through wondrous unrealities of timeless space.

A sudden chill wind rushed in upon a surprised face, its eyes bulging in shocked reaction. The mind's body threw itself backward in panicked response to only discover that it was falling, ever falling. Reaching out in desperation to find a handhold, the eyes watched in amazement to see fingers stretching out toward fathomless, blue space in their fruitless search for safety.

Fear was soon replaced by an exhilarating feeling of floating upon a brilliant, colored sea of rainbow hues that raced about wildly in their ever-search to find the end of the universe. Yes, flying weightless upon an ocean of air! Oh, what a wonderful experience! Oh, the unbridled freedom where the very forces of nature were held in abeyance, permitting the returning soul and heart a joyous opportunity to experience life as an immortal, where no command or law holds sway over the will of body or mind.

Taking charge of its own destiny, the mind willed the body to impose its glory upon the ever-dancing, distant aurora that filled the sky with its haunting beauty. In only seconds, the ears could hear the numbing roar of wind as the body sped toward the prismatic array of colors. Soon eyes were watering from a cutting breeze that resisted this ever-advancing intruder into the nether worlds of the Immortals. But on the mind pushed, driving the body to its limit, chasing those mesmerizing lights across a darkening sky.

Suddenly, without warning, a stout stormwind slammed the speeding body from the side, sending it tumbling helplessly end over end. From within the stormwind, an angry voice shouted, "Be off with you! You are no god! Only a human is what you are. Be off to your own world and leave ours in peace!"

With a shrieking cry, the mind felt itself spinning wildly downward, helplessly falling through an endless expanse. "Mother! Oh, Mother!" Came a plaintive cry, but not from a mind this time. No, now a person, a woman-child, was crying to her mother for help. The mind no longer ruled the body, for now mind, body, and heart were thinking, seeing, and feeling as one - one soul, a living, breathing and very frightened soul.

"Leave us now! Be off! Be off!" The stormwind continued shouting as it followed the child down, making sure she would not intrude upon its world again. It chased after the girl until she disappeared into heavy clouds filled with rolling thunder and blinding lightning. The riotous convulsions of maddening eruptions cried up to the stormwind in contempt, "Leave the child and return to your ever world! She you cannot do with as you please. Leave or we shall consume you in all our radiant power!"

In silent frustration, the stormwind slowly retreated to whence it came, but not before blowing away the tops of some of the greatest thunderheads. In anger, the clouds shot fiery lightning bolts after the storm, but to no avail, for it was fled far away before the thunderheads could regain their might.

As the thunders' power returned, their agitated clouds took to twisting and writhing violently in frustration at seeing the stormwind escape, soon turning into a great, twirling tempest that sucked the child away into its wildly spinning vortex. For hours - or was it days, or even possibly years \- the girl was flung helplessly up and down, to and fro, through the endless funnel cloud. On and on it went in its madness, tearing across the tortured lands far below. At length it tired, releasing its hold and carelessly dropping its captive toward distant, grassy fields.

The girl screamed once again, crying for her mother, and then recalled little more, other than the warm, downy-like fields filled with beautiful flowers and their wonderful scents. Oh, how comforting and soft, like angel down in a fat, feather tic!

The earlier blackness quickly caught up with the child and soon overcame her waking senses. The world of dark shadow again sang its lullabies, ushering in another hour of peaceful, dreamless sleep.

"They told us she would experience strange dreams and visions, and... and... and the like. We must be patient, you know, wait on the moment, like Drorli said. We just must be patient."

Symeon had been carrying on in this fashion ever since Ishtar began reacting to the super-oxygenated fluids that were washing clean the girl's lungs. Drorli warned them that a heightened awareness at the subconscious level might well flood the sleeping mind with hallucinogenic visions that could affect physical motor controls, thus the flailing of arms and legs accompanied by whoops and wails, sometimes even recognizable speech.

The girl suddenly jumped, her eyes bulging in fright. Symeon cried out to Eurawha, who was some distance away checking gages, "My girl! My girl! You said this was all normal? She's really all right? Do you think she's really all right?"

Hanna laughed, answering Symeon before Eurawha could reply. "Of course she's all right, you silly goose! Everything's fine, going according to plan." She squeezed Symeon's arm reassuringly, reminding him, "Drorli explained it all so well just this morning, telling us exactly what to expect, even using those moving vision machines to describe just how our girl was making her returning."

Hanna kissed Symeon's troubled face. "Look, Dear, whether rumors of our immortality are true or not - something I doubt - it has been said that not one of the children delivered from the Realms Below has been damaged to the point of death since arrival here. I believe that. Your little child will not suffer such a horrid death... any death again. That you can trust... Come now," she playfully tussled Symeon's beard, "put a smile on that ol' puss of yours. We're supposed to be celebrating Ishtar's happy return, not fretting over nonsensical imaginings."

Eurawha was now standing in front of Ishtar's crystal sarcophagus, staring down upon the girl while listening to Hanna and Symeon's conversation. She matter-of-factly commented, "Not to worry. If she's damaged, we'll just throw her in the incinerator and start over. The main blueprint of her is already in the machines. Shouldn't take long to make a new one..."

Symeon let out a howl of dismay while Drorli, who was standing nearby, almost split his sides with laughter. Eurawha quietly looked toward Hanna, a faint smile forming on her lips and then returned to her work at nearby gages.

Slapping his hands on his legs, Drorli exclaimed, bemused, "That's my girl! Quiet as a little mouse till she jumps like a hungry cat... Got you good on that one, my friend."

Eurawha glanced over toward the other three, stone-faced sober. "Always a first time, you know..." She went back to her work.

Again there was laughter and haranguing of poor Symeon, but this time by both Drorli and Hanna.

Symeon was not in a mood to reciprocate humor. He fumed, "This is no way to speak about such a brave heroine! Ishtar faced torture and death to save me. She is a valiant warrior, and should be treated that way."

Hanna piped in, "And spoilt, insolent, haughty to a fault, arrogant, self-absorbed, and... and just a plain brat most of the time!"

Insulted by Hanna's rude, uncalled for accusations, Symeon cried, aghast, "How can you speak with such cruelty regarding this holy child when you, yourself, witnessed so many of the brave and wonderful things she did?"

Hanna nodded, answering, "Your girl was certainly holy, but she wasn't perfect. There were few of us older women who did not receive demeaning looks from haughty eyes, I being branded by them many times, myself. And if your little girl could shirk her duties to go flirting with the boys, she did it in earnest. Your little child was a royal pain in the backsides of the older men. Why, she would even make fun of them behind their backs when she was with the other young women."

"I do not believe it!" Symeon ranted. "She was such a dear child, always getting and fetching for me. Why the girl treated me more like a father than my own sons did."

"She worshiped you!" Hanna replied abrasively. "She treated her uncle like a god, the rest of us like duck squat. Ask Merna if you don't believe me. Why, once the two got in a little squabble over the way one of her boys was acting, and Ishtar called Merna a 'bitch' right in front of her children."

Scowling, Symeon was about to make an angry retort when Drorli spoke up. "Enough! Look, my dear friend, what your wonderful companion is merely stating is that Ishtar was not some unfathomable saint. None of you were and, may I add, none of us have been either. Feelings, emotions and opinions get in the way of us all. Ishtar showed outstanding love, faith and valor. That, no one questions. But she was also many of the things Hanna has declared. Doesn't make her wicked, but it does show that she's human and, at times, a very flawed human."

Symeon still sought to defend the girl. "Have you not heard the wonderful accounts of Ishtar's valiant efforts to save Merna and her children? Why Merna, herself, not a fortnight ago told me so. And what of her bravery and conduct before the governor? And..."

"All those things are true, my friend." Drorli patted Symeon on the shoulder. "That's what helped make this child holy. Still, I have heard from other reliable sources that Merna called her a 'pisser' and a 'selfish little scalawag'." He winked at Hanna.

Before Symeon could reply, Drorli added, "It is my duty to prepare as best as may be for the delivery of your kind to this place. It can be quite difficult at times. If you recall, it took a great deal of convincing you as to where you really were after your arrival. Indeed, Hanna was brought into our world first because we believed she was more adaptable to change than you, and that she could help ease your transition.

"Now I have also done my duty with this girl. She can be a real pill...will be one that's hard to swallow at times. My team and I have gone to a great deal of trouble to make preparation for her, and I still think we're in for a time of it."

He squeezed Symeon's arm. "Stop making your child into an untouchable, holy martyr. She isn't! Never will be! And that's not what Mother brought her here for. She will have to earn her 'wings' as some of your kind like to say, and she's got a rough sky to fly in to do so. We're all here to help her do that. The sooner you see her as a troubled little girl who's done great things, the better assistance you will be to us at getting her situated in this world. Got it?"

Symeon slowly nodded, contemplating Drorli's words. His heart so much wanted to lift the girl up as a holy saint, but his head knew differently. "I'll try. I'll try to remember what you say. I know it's true, but don't want to believe it...not now, not at this moment."

Drorli grinned, "Believe what you want for the moment. Celebrate in the rebirth of someone you love so much. Tomorrow is soon enough to ponder deeper questions. Still, tomorrow will come. I know you will succeed in this quest. You been so outstanding with so many of the others you've undertaken."

Eurawha called over just after several attendants entered the room, one of them nodding to her. "All right all, we're ready to go. Suit up!"

She approached Hanna and Symeon. "If you want to accompany your little girl, you'll have to get suited up. We may need to adjust the atmosphere in the travel chamber during the trip, depending on how quickly Ishtar's new body adapts to the elements. If we need to reintroduce certain gases to stabilize her, it could make others exposed to them sick, thus the need for the suits."

In less than twenty minutes, an antigravity machine was humming its way along a thoroughfare toward a tiny village several leagues east of Palace City. This was no ordinary village, but one specifically designed to introduce the children from the Second Realm into the dramatically different world of the First Realm. Drorli's team went to great effort to make each new arrival comfortable after he or she awoke, and spared no expense to assist the person in adjusting to this new home.

While Eurawha continuously studied the gages in the cabin, all the time keeping a close eye on Ishtar who was now sleeping upon an anchored gurney, she chatted with Hanna and Symeon about upcoming events. "Of course we have secured the outer perimeters, assuring the girl's safety. That should not be your concern. Your part is to help introduce the child into this world as effortlessly as possible."

Eurawha paused, looking intently at the two, raising an eyebrow in doubt. "Well, do the best you can. Ishtar is an extremely bright child, inquisitive – snoopy. Trust me! I've studied this child's history better than you have, I assure you. You two will have your hands full fooling her, but try you must. She needs as much time as possible to acclimatize to her new home."

She turned her attention to the sleeping Ishtar, carefully examining the girl's exposed hand. "Now, the child will awaken gradually, falling in and out of dream states several times, but once she does come to, her cognitive powers will spring to life. She'll be up and about in no time and, when she is, there'll be no slowing her down."

The machine eased to a stop. An attendant stepped out of the cab and hurried forward to undo a gate that blocked the highway. Drorli called back through a speaking tube, checking to make sure things were all right. Eurawha assured him that everything was fine, softly caressing Ishtar's hand as she replied. The gate was quickly opened and the machine passed through. After picking up the attendant who closed the gate, they sped on down the road.

Sitting back in her technician's chair, Eurawha breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Her team had worked diligently for several years to help prepare these 'Off-worlders', as the children from the Second Realm were often referred to, for life in this universe. It was not easy, to say the least. Technology, customs, way of life, even the very thinking processes between the two groups were so different. Eurawha believed her team had become tired, worn down from their constant labors.

It took months to return just one person because of all the technical preparations as well as the weeks of study and investigation it might take just to understand the personality, disposition, history, and culture of the new arrival. Then there were the post arrival energies expended to make the person feel comfortable and at home, something that might take many additional months. Too, there was the choosing and training of the mentor who would journey with the newcomer until that person was prepared to function alone in this realm. Oh, all the effort it had taken!

Eurawha sighed relief again. She had been most pleased to have been personally requested to assist Drorli in this grand experiment. Still it felt good to think that this child was the last, at least for a very long time. When the rebirths were to be renewed in the distant future, Mother promised the team that she would make sure the process would be far less cumbersome and time consuming, and that many more hands were to be there to offer assistance. Eurawha smiled with satisfaction, proud to have been part of this prestigious team. And it had felt so good to be working with Drorli again after these many years.

Her eyes closed and head leaned back, Eurawha calmly reminded Hanna and Symeon, "After we arrive, you two are to hurry to Ishtar's room, make sure the bed is made ready so that the attendants can get her snuggled in quickly. That will assure her a long, undisturbed sleep. Double-check the room to see that everything is in place just so. We've put our trust in you to give our girl the needed reminders to keep her believing, for the moment, that she's still in her room in Ephesus. When you're finished there, I will assist the two of you with final preparations."

Slowly sitting upright while placing her hands on her knees, Eurawha smiled, looking at her two companions. "And then we shall wait..."

Symeon and Hanna smiled at their handiwork. For several weeks, they assisted with the construction of the small room that was to be Ishtar's new home for the moment. Drorli's team was meticulous with the duplication of the girl's old bedroom. Hanna was valuable in offering up tiny details that research information might well leave out, like the medicine smell of the old cowhide robe that was rolled up on the cedar chest near the foot of the bed, or the patched arm of the girl's favorite doll that she had saved since childhood. Symeon helped as best he could, making suggestions here and there. When the team was finished, both he and Hanna said it looked and felt just like Ishtar's room.

It was about twelve feet wide by sixteen feet long. Hanna told Drorli that it was used as a storage room for sales goods. After Ishtar's father died, she demanded it for her sleeping quarters, they reminding the girl so much of her father. It being near the back of the home and away from the family quarters, the girl's mother resisted until finally being worn down by Ishtar's constant pestering. Hanna said that many of the musty scents and odors lingered long after the room was emptied. She thought those might be some of the reasons the girl like the room so much.

The stucco over red, baked bricks appeared aged and cracked, the ceiling sooty from the smoke of countless fires burned in the stone fireplace. Even the oaken floor was shiny-smooth from the endless mopping and heavy foot traffic. Hanna said the room was used as servants' quarters before Ishtar's father bought the house when the family moved to the city. He did little with it other than clean it out and paint on a thin coat of whitewash. That was the way Ishtar left it after she acquired the room.

The decision was made to reproduce this room because it had only one door, and all the windows were bricked up long before Ishtar's day. Also being far from the central living quarters and away from the street, it was a quiet room, much easier to replicate the living conditions of the day that way.

There was a small, half-burned tallow candle sitting beside the chipped earthen basin on the washstand that was located just to the right of the blazing fireplace - Hanna's idea, she remembering that Ishtar always had it placed on the washstand so that she could get a better view of her face while primping before the tiny wall mirror. Ishtar also obtained those particular candles from the butcher's wife because of the peculiarly pleasant, pungent odor they produced when being burned.

It was this kind of little detail that Hanna brought to the table when assisting in Ishtar's returning. At times, she fussed over the smallest of them, charging that Ishtar was very inquisitive and the slightest thing out of place would instantly be noticed. Although Hanna complained the loudest about the 'spoilt child', her love for Ishtar was nearly as deep as Symeon's. In fact, it was later said by her that she believed her peevishness was more to quiet her own adoration for the girl, other than to find fault.

Hanna was as excited as Symeon as they awaited Ishtar's awakening, though she kept most of her emotion hidden away from the others. Drorli noticed, but said nothing. He did make special time for her, though, requesting her assistance with little, unimportant projects, or just chatting casually with her about her life in those bygone days. Hanna was grateful to him for it, realizing the man's motive. His reward was her occasional gentle touch and her radiant smile, showing the woman's deep appreciation.

"I feel old all over again. Even the aching in my bones troubles me." Symeon wryly commented as he peered into the dressing mirror. He touched the side of his wrinkled face with hands covered in age spots and sporting tired skin. "This stuff feels so real that I'm beginning to wonder whether I've woken up from a wonderful dream and am back in my old world."

He turned and looked at Eurawha who stood near in her smock beside the makeup table. Smiling, he added with reassurance, "Nope. I'm still here. You're still here. And all your fancy toys are still here." He looked over at Hanna who was sitting there half-naked, her upper body being done up to appear like a woman in her late middle years. At the moment, she was musing over how saggy her new breasts were, the attendants having recently applied the prosthetics over her round, full, natural ones.

Hanna smiled at Symeon. "I don't ever want to be old again. It makes a person feel so... so... ugly. That's why I always hid myself in all those heavy robes. I guess I was vain, but I did really feel ugly when I got old." She looked over at Drorli. "The proverbs telling about dying old and satisfied might have been inspired, but was not written by the aged, that I know. I was satisfied only when my decrepit body was finally surrendering to death and letting me leave life with what little dignity I still possessed."

Drorli frowned. "Life is such a precious thing..."

Hanna shook her head, disagreeing. "I've watched your kind clinging to life when their body was in a frightful state, the hope being that as long as power coursed through their veins, there would be an eventual return to a healthy life..."

Hanna let out a sudden cry of surprise as an attendant applied some very cold paste to exposed skin just below her armpit. The attendant apologized, grinning as he continued to apply the goo. Drorli and the others laughed. Hanna fussed about how it reminded her of other unpleasantries she wallowed in when she prepared for her visit to Symeon long ago. Raising her hands high, with curled fingers, she bared her teeth, threatening, and whined with a hiss, "Not hungry now. No! Not hungry now."

Everyone laughed, recalling the tale of the little stinky creature.

When the laughter subsided, Hanna finished making reply to Drorli's comment. "That was fine for your kind. Our kind, on the other hand, saw there was no renewal for our old age. We saw nothing but a relentless sickness steadily eating away at us until we became weaker, uglier, more forgetful, and... and when your breath smells like rot and you can't even control your bladder anymore... well, maybe you get the point.

"Anyway, for my kind, the cancer of old age only offered us certain death. Our hoped for renewal came for us on the other side of it... death, I mean. Death then became something to search out, at times to yearn for, but it had to be hunted down discreetly so that others – the foolish, younger ones who still valued life - would not believe you callous over such a wonderful gift as living in a body that was slowly decomposing around you."

She raised a hand, pointing toward her heart. "I was still a blushing maiden here, when I went to my final rest, but up here..." She placed a finger to her temple. "I was a deplorable old thing that was happy to leave all Hell behind... whether there was a future for me or not."

Waxing romantic, Symeon offered his response. "My dear Hanna, should you be ever as beautiful as you are looking now, I would still find you the most attractive of all female kind. I loved you from the first day we met, although I never spoke of it because you were with a husband. Later, when you were widowed, I so much wanted you as a companion, but alas I had duties and obligations that led me far away from your company. My hope was for us to meet again on the other side of the universe. And look! I hope no more."

Hanna eyed Symeon, her mischievous gaze aflame with jealous suspicion. She hissed accusingly, "It says it loves me, it does. It does. I sees it look at her and the other beauties. It says it loves me, all old looking, but I sees it desire the other pretties, the nubile, sweet ones. Ifs it really loves me, come prove it with a kiss on these old woman's lips. Make it real, my lad, or I'll say you've the tongue of a cad who weaves music to suit his own fancy. Now gives this old lady a kiss."

At first, Symeon thought Hanna was seriously jealous. When he caught sight of the others smirking, he began to catch on. He defended himself, exclaiming, "Well I do love you! Always have."

Drorli chimed in, motioning toward Hanna. "Well then, give the lady a kiss, or I'll take her up on the offer and you'll be outside in the cold."

Symeon harrumphed, "You'll do no such thing!" And, with that, although he was embarrassed to express such forms of endearment so openly, he got up from his chair, walked over to Hanna, took hold of her arms, and planted a huge kiss right on her lips.

"There!" he declared. "I told you I loved you, and now I've proved it right in front of everyone here."

Hanna peered deeply into his eyes, her face so serious, and pouted, "You needed to be shamed into admitting it, though. My dear Drorli sounded so much more sincere when he said it."

"You're impossible!" Symeon sputtered as he glared at Drorli. "This is my woman, at least for the time being. Keep your distance if you know what's good for you!"

Drorli threw his hands up in mock concern. "Yes sir! Yes sir! I'll be sure to keep my distance. Don't wanna come between a man and his woman!"

Hanna was not pleased, the woman's voice reflecting her not finding any humor in the men's jousting. "Enough! I'm not a piece of meat, seasoned to titillate your tastes...either one of you! I live not in this universe to please a man. To satisfy my heart, I was delivered here... at least when we have returned sanity to this Hell. In the meantime, I shall choose whom I have an affair of love with. My choosing!"

She eyed Symeon. "Don't call me 'your woman' again, or I'll take the next man I find and give him my love in front of your eyes, making you watch the rich romance he can offer me and my impassioned cries in response to his lovemaking. I love you because I want to love you, always have. I love Drorli, too, he romancing me long before you entered this world."

Hanna now turned her attention to Drorli, chastising him. "Stop encouraging this fellow! Symeon always was a bit jealous over me and you don't need to stir those feelings up in his heart. I've had many suitors that equal your manly abilities and a few that make me swoon just thinking about their endowed majesty and their mastery of such gifts to deliver a woman to an intoxicated state of ecstasy. It is not your size or abilities that have made me fall in love with you, and love you I do...very much."

She frowned, looking back and forth between Drorli and Symeon. "I do not fall in love with a man who stirs passions between my thighs. Any man with a tool has that power." Touching her heart, she exclaimed, "I fall in love here!

"Now," Hanna pointed at herself, "if you two do not learn how to treat this woman with a little more care and respect, she'll gather herself back to the arms of someone who understands her feelings" she motioned toward Eurawha, "and does not attempt her possession."

Eurawha blushed, not from Hanna's reference to their occasional romantic interludes, but to have someone so openly confess such deep love for her. She smiled ever so faintly, "Of your kind, only with you have I shared the blood grape. My heart aches for the hour when again we share that wine of love and dream wild visions of a maiden descended from the Daughter Dragon Who Dances on the Stones."

Hanna puzzled, curious. "What...?"

Eurawha turned away, pretending to examine some of the equipment while checking the viewing screen.

Drorli apologized, "My lady, I was insensitive concerning your feelings regarding this matter, forgetting in the merriment of the moment the oppressive world from which you have arrived. My deepest regrets for acting so uncouth..."

Symeon was about to also apologize when screams and panicked cries came from the nearby room. Drorli and Eurawha glanced around at the various gages and then up at the viewing monitor while Hanna and Symeon bolted for the door to Ishtar's room.

"Stop!" Drorli cried. It did little good.

Eurawha was out of her chair in a flash, catching Symeon by the wrist before he could turn the door's latch. "Don't do that!" she chastised, anxious. "Leave the girl be or she may suffer in abhorrent ways!"

Symeon stopped, but held his grip while frantically looking into Eurawha's face, dumbfounded. In desperation, he excitedly exclaimed, "She's suffering! Something must be wrong!"

Shaking her head, Eurawha ordered Symeon and Hanna to go back and sit down. "We're in charge here, you being our assistants. Finish your duties and we will ours. Do as you're told!"

As the two hesitantly retraced their steps, Eurawha explained again to them the process of the reawakening. "Do not tempt Time. It is a most vicious foe. As you both should recall...for Drorli and I thoroughly explained this to you...Mother sometimes dabbles with her children as they sleep in the Web of the Minds. This creates a dilemma in the person's subconscious. Now, during the flesh's waking hours, the subconscious has to assimilate all that new information with life experiences recorded while awake in the flesh."

She motioned Hanna to go back to her attendant to finish preparations while at the same time sitting Symeon down in his chair, cautioning, "We showed you how the brain functions and described how the mind works. Ishtar's mind must incorporate all her former logic with the new logic given her while she slept in the Web. This cannot be accomplished until the child returns to her living sleep, which only began a few hours ago. If anything interferes with her current sleep cycle, she may be stricken with nightmares, or even worse night-terrors. No matter what happens, we must leave the child be until she wakes on her own." Then wagging a finger at both of her wayward assistants, Eurawha threatened, "If you go near that door again before my permitting it, I'll throw you both out of here until the girl is up and about. Got it?"

Symeon glanced at Drorli for solace. Drorli just shrugged, "I'd listen to her if I were you. She runs things around here. I'm only aboard for the ride."

Over the next few hours Drorli and Eurawha monitored Ishtar's progress while Symeon and Hanna nervously finished preparing for the girl's waking. It was difficult for Symeon to do nothing while hearing the crying moans and whimpers coming from the adjoining room, but he dutifully obeyed Eurawha's admonition to leave the child be.

(Author's note: _Queen Ishtar remembers little of those frantic hours when her mind and heart were assimilating all the information given her with that of her living days' memories while she slept in the Web of the Minds. "Fitful and frightening, to say the least," has been the woman's common statement. Her most vivid recollections during these waking hours were recently revealed to me when seeking information for this book._

~"I remember well the baker - Travet, I believe his name - being shoved headlong into the animal pit. The few seconds he writhed in agony appeared to last for hours for me, the man's screams piercing my ears to the point of head-wrenching pain. And then there was the chilling laughter of Governor Claudesius... to this day I have not been able to forget it, though a thousand times he has begged my forgiveness."

~"Oh yes! Merna, sweet Merna and her little one, Hilen... Hilen is a beautiful woman, as much so as her mother. She tells me she has no recollection of that time at all. To this day, my heart shudders when I think of those terrible events."

_~"Anyway, those are the most memorable of the dreams I recall from those hours. Eventually my fits of terror and panic eased, my heart calmed down, and I drifted off into_ _a quiet slumber. My following dreams, I recall with greater intensity. They, I believe, were intended to be so, Lowenah wanting me to remember them.")_

As the time slowly passed, Ishtar's frantic cries and distressful moans gradually subsided. After a bit, she drifted into another deep sleep that would last several more hours. Symeon and Hanna watched through the viewing screen as their little girl rolled on her side and began a quiet snore. For the time being all was peaceful, the attending company patiently waiting for the girl's wakening.

But across that universe, another treasured child was being prepared for a far different role that she was to play a part in. The singer of songs and laments, Sirion, a child so dear to Mihai's heart, was being readied for her grand entrance at the upcoming prisoner exchange.

* * *

Sirion crashed into the steel wall of the prison wagon and collapsed, crumpled up on the floor on her side as though dead.

"I know you're alive!" Legion screamed, hurrying over and kicking Sirion in the midsection, slamming her back against the wall, cracking several of the woman's ribs. "Tell me you're alive or I'll put my boot through your face next time!"

Vomiting blood from a broken mouth, Sirion cried out in pain, lifting a hand beseechingly, begging for mercy from tortured lips as she wheezed, gasping, "Brother...please... my brother..." Another swift kick silenced the woman.

"Bitch! Little, worthless bitch! Don't you dare call me that again! Your brother died long ago. You tried to murder him, remember? I am Legion, ruler of kingdoms and empires, second in power and glory over this universe! You are a worthless nothing! Not fit for dog meat! Nothing!" He stormed across the tiny cell. Turning around, he sat on a small stool, silently glaring at the disfigured pile of living flesh lying on the floor.

Legion frowned, troubled. Oh, not over the deplorable condition he had left his charge in. Indeed, he rather enjoyed this kind of entertainment, practicing it often when opportunity afforded. No, he was concerned that the woman refused to be broken. For weeks, Sirion had been starved, beaten, tortured and abused. Never once did she surrender to the punishments dished out to her and deny her loyalties. Few of the others had remained so loyal, and those who did no longer lived.

Sirion, though, Legion was to keep alive, at least for a little while longer. This was the one fact that bothered him. Alithea - Asotos - would not take kindly to the girl's demise, not yet. His gentle but warning words still echoed in Legion's ears. 'Sirion was the last of my pleasured gifts in the days before the evil done to us. She still holds a place in my heart...for the moment. It would pain me so to see disaster befall her. Her life is very, very valuable to me. I'm sure you will be gentle with my treasure.'

Legion dare not kill this creature because of Alithea. She was a tough one, though, with a strong will to survive. She could take a lot more punishment before her desire to live surrendered itself up to death.

The man rubbed his clean-shaven chin, pondering and smiled. All that was needed at the prisoner exchange was Sirion's living flesh, her mind and soul being of little value. There were ways those could be tortured and ruined without further harming the body. That would certainly give him some solace, considering all the time and effort he had invested in breaking this troublesome nuisance. No one ever did him injury and got away alive!

Pushing down with his hands on his knees as he leaned forward and stood, he grinned at the thought of making the woman suffer excruciatingly before her head became an empty tomb of forgotten memories.

Walking over to Sirion, Legion looked down, his charming tone sending a shiver through the woman. "I so much want this to end well for both of us. Now if my little sister isn't a good girl, I may have to hand her over to some of the uncouth men in the camp."

Sirion silently lay there as if asleep, only the twitch of an eyelid revealing her dread of such a torturous event. Not obtaining desired results, Legion shook his head. "You look so abhorrent, I doubt any man would want you...but the beasts?" Sirion stirred this time, visions of recent violations burning painfully in her mind.

Legion smiled condescendingly, "Well, well, I do think another ride or two with the horses might humble that rebellious spirit of yours, that is, of course, after an hour or so with the dogs. Your passionate moans were so arousing during your last interlude with them."

Sirion cried out, weeping pitiably in anguish as she extended a hand seeking mercy, "No! No! Please!"

Laughing, Legion reassured her, "Don't worry, they will be muzzled this time... maybe."

"No! Please don't do such a thing! Not again! Please!" Sirion sobbed.

Bending low over her, Legion hissed, "Then on your knees and pledge your allegiance to the rightful ruler of this universe."

Sirion's terror-stricken eyes flew open, filled with desperate hope. She had been forced to watch other women prisoners suffer similarly, either unto death or until they renounced their mother and offered up oaths of loyalty to Asotos. Few surrendered to Legion's demands and had suffered a wretched demise. Ah, but the ones who had relented? Either death came swiftly or the scourging was halted and they were removed from the torture chambers.

Using all her strength, Sirion rolled onto her knees and laboriously pushed herself up and back until she was sitting, staring up at Legion. For the longest time she did not move, her gaze fixed on his.

Legion soon became impatient. "Hurry up now, or I'll call the guards to fetch the dogs! You know what to do. Make it quick. I've not got the day to wait upon your confessions!"

Sirion's lips quivered in trepidation. So easy it would be to confess Asotos as her lord and king. Why, had he not been as much for so many countless eons, at least in action if not in title? It was such a little thing. Mother would understand. She was always so kind and sympathetic. There were limits to a person's endurance, her endurance. Mother would understand.

A sudden struggle broke out within Sirion's breast. It was as if two armies were warring against each other seeking control over the moment. Sounds of voices echoed in her head, one group attempting to out-shout the other.

There came screams of, 'Give glory to your new Master and let us all live! Serve the Master and let us live!' and others, more saintly, calm, calling out, 'What is death but another journey through time and space, and pain but a tortured companion while in the flesh? Do not fear the tempestuous road, for it is short and journey's end peaceful.'

On and on the voices argued, Sirion's racing thoughts stampeding through her harrowed mind. She didn't know what to do, but do something she must, for Legion would waste little more time waiting.

As she was about to cry out, another voice, almost imperceptible midst the numbing din of the others softly reminded her, 'Do not worry the future, for only the moment have you mastery over. Do what is right with your heart and permit the Fates to choose your path. Set your sails and allow the winds to direct your course.'

Sirion quietly sighed, one last spasm of remorseful dread shivering down her spine. She looked toward the floor, shaking her head, declaring, "No! No, I shall not betray all that is right and surrender what is good up to shame and evil!"

Legion screamed in rage, grabbing her by the arms, forcefully yanking her up and slamming her repeatedly against the prison wall, "You bitch! Worthless little bitch! You think you can best me? I'll make you wish you were dead, over and over, before I'm finished with you!"

Sirion's mind was confused, being nearly knocked senseless, but Legion's threats were clearly understood. With what little strength remained in her voice, she answered, "I already wish I were dead... and you with me."

Cursing in out-of-control madness, Legion began to savagely pummel the woman, his fists repeatedly smashing two giant, raw wounds upon Sirion's chest. Legion's new, ornately tooled, leather shoulder purse trimmed in thin strips of curly golden hair, filled with talismans and mummified trophies, bounced on its silver chain as he worked his violence on her. The leather of the purse was once the very skin covering Sirion's breasts, the areolas and nipples now positioned and dyed so as to appear like eyes looking out from the front of the cover flap.

Before Sirion could fall back to the floor, Legion clenched her face, fingers spread, his thumb driven deep into a socket, crushing an eyeball. He smashed her head into the wall, holding her there, leaning close, seething with anger, hissing, "I do so wish I had the days needed to bring you to a finish as I'd like, but an hour or two is all there is for it. In that time, I will slowly remove from your mind all that is yours, one tiny memory after another, until all that remains is a skeletal ghost of yourself. I only need your flesh this day - flesh filled with morbid fear - and that is all that will exist!"

Legion intended to do this to Sirion anyway, her confession of fealty only something for his gloating ego. Way too much effort had gone into breaking this deplorable creature to just hand her over to his brother should she have surrendered to the moment. Alithea would have never known Legion's real intent was to only deliver up to him a body of flesh from the very beginning. Indeed, he had only called for Sirion to give a loyal cry to Alithea rather than himself just in case someone else was listening. No need risking oneself for foolish glory...

Reefing Sirion around, Legion shoved her into a corner and slammed her down onto a torture stool, pushing her head back and locking her into a neck ring bolted to the wall. The stool's spike tore up through Sirion's flesh, sending a shockwave of burning distress up through her belly, exploding into a blinding ache in her head.

(Author's note _: A torture stool, Roman stool, or better known as an 'inquisition stool', was a small, backless chair with a large spike of wood or metal about a handbreadth in height sticking up through the bottom of the stool. Used primarily for interrogations, it was designed to force the victim to painfully sit erect while being physically questioned, or else suffer excruciating agony. A bout upon the stool often led to the person's eventual death_.)

Legion retrieved a valise from the opposite corner of the cell, pausing to admire his handiwork before returning. Sirion looked a fright, appearing more like a living abomination drawn up during some unspeakable nightmare than a once dreamily beautiful woman...a bloody and bruised head shorn of its hair, ears torn away by angry beasts, smashed mouth with shattered teeth, blinded in one eye, scars, cuts, and lacerations too numerous to mention, some fingers and toes taken to make amulets from, as well as her breasts cut away and loins scalped to create Legion's new purse. Heaped upon these atrocities were the rapes, tortures, deplorable living conditions - the girl having to live in her own filth - and forced starvation. Sirion's appearance was more that of a tattered scarecrow than any living being.

Legion grinned, pleased with his handiwork. Few had received this much extreme torment and survived, but he had known the level of this woman's endurance. True, he had pushed the limit, risked her death, but in the end had won the contest. Satisfied, he decided to deliver this one final insult, to kill her mind so that only a living shell of a person, an empty house, would be returned to the approaching rescuers.

Pulling up a small chair, Legion sat down in front of Sirion. Opening the valise, he removed from it a slender, hand-held tool having a long, needlelike probe at its end. Musing, he explained, "This, my dear little one, is an exquisite boring machine. I shall pass its end up your nose and into your cranial cavity. Then, with this smallest of viewing sensors mounted at its end, I will search out your memory centers and abolish them one by one with the machine's tiny cutter."

He laughed in derision, "Your thoughts and recall, all your lovers and companions, your adventures, everything that was you, will gradually fade from your consciousness, like a million candles being slowly extinguished one by one until all that remains is but a single flame, that of fear... morbid, dreaded fear..." He laughed again.

Sirion did not react, at least on the outside. Her heart raced with panic, constantly having to remind herself that the Web of the Minds would safely hold her true self until the day Mother would return it to a new body. She dared not even imagine the agony such an operation would induce. Besides, what could she do to stop it? Her strength was exhausted, the fastened collar all that was holding her head up and keeping her sitting. The one satisfaction she felt was that Legion would not hear any screams or pleadings for mercy this time, the woman having no energy to waste upon them.

Legion placed the viewer over his eye and adjusted its focus. Pushing a tiny button, the machine sprang to life, its minute motor nearly inaudible. Slowly and deliberately, he lifted the probe up to Sirion's face. "Do you wish to see the weapon of your demise? Its sight and sound and the way it feels when tearing away your thoughts will be the only thing you will forever remember."

Suddenly Sirion gasped, her head snapping up as she opened her good eye. From a garish, grinning mouth, a hideous voice as though come from the netherworld hissed, "It has come! The destroyer of demons and maker of nightmares wakes. From its lair it waits upon the moment to seek the flesh of the one murdering it, to drink the demon's blood. Arise! Arise, oh father of gorgons! Deliver the flesh of ruler and slave to your daughters so that they may feed upon the living dead. So shall become the fate of the king of Memphis! It wakes!" Sirion began to cackle maniacally.

Legion bolted backward in his chair, dropping the boring machine. Without bothering to pick up his valise, the man jumped up and fled from the cell, not stopping until he was some distance from the prison car.

* * *

A cloud of choking dust consumed Jonathan when half a dozen flankers galloped past to take up position north of the main caravan body, sending the man into a coughing fit that only gradually subsided. Covering his mouth with a kerchief, he followed the horses with his eyes, watching the ever-growing dust storm left in their wake, observing others who were victimized as was he.

Jonathan shook his head. This was certainly an evil land... well, at least a very unfriendly place. Every step made by man or beast in these powdery talc beds filled the air with reddish-green clouds of blinding, intolerable dust. Breathing a sigh of relief upon considering he was on the windward side of the van, Jonathan felt pity for the others riding further off to his right. At least he was saved the continual onslaught of these manmade dust storms that those in the center columns and opposite flank must suffer.

As his eyes wandered over the distant riders, he cast his gaze upon Lowenah. Oh, how beautiful, Lowenah sitting tall and straight...no, majestic! Yes, that was it, majestic, riding bareback, her flesh naked except for the sheerest of silken capes that did little more than accent her golden, flowing tresses that fell like mystical waterfalls over the woman's shoulders and down over her horse's flanks.

Proud and determined, yes! Lowenah's piercing eyes and set jaw, her hand held high holding the reins - a warrior priestess – no, a warrior goddess! Jonathan sighed, troubled in soul and heart. He could not tear his gaze away from this most dazzling of universal beauties. His ardor rose in passionate desire and then as quickly subsided while his heart sang out with the rapturous joy of a blind man seeing his first sunrise. Jonathan soon found himself struggling with countless emotions racing and roiling within. Lowenah was certainly a witch, master of bewitching powers.

Jonathan's face flushed red, remembering once, some time ago, shortly after his arrival to this world, when Lowenah had been in a playful, flirting mood, he brazenly reached out and caressed one of her breasts. She spoke not a word, only staring into his yearning eyes with her own mesmerizing, dancing, green orbs. 'For another time, my lovely one, for another time...' her voice echoed in his head, sweet and desirous, until it cooled his growing flames of passion, they quickly passing away into fond memories of wistful delights.

Shaking his head again to clear away the embarrassing vision - because it betrayed him for being a man, a man who lacked the self-control he so much prized, wished to possess - Jonathan still could not drive the thought of Lowenah from his mind. He stared, pondering. God of gods, really? Maker of Worlds? Creator of the universe? Possible? How could this mesmerizing treasure, most feminine of womankind, be the Never-ending One? Innocent like a playful maiden, Giver of precious gifts, Maker of life and Bringer of destruction and death, who was this person so enchantingly sublime?

Jonathan was told of Lowenah that she bound the universe together by the power of harmonics, a force it was said that was borne of her inner soul, her very immortal essence, a force woven into the shape of a giant web that captured all the galaxies in its countless threads, binding them in its unbreakable grasp. This essence was alive with the very fiber of Lowenah's heart and mind. It lived with an intelligence very much its own and needed no other sustenance to feed upon for it nursed at the breasts of the very Giver of that life until it, too, breathed in the shadow of her immortal glow.

Jonathan was no fool, nor was he ignorant of Lowenah's feelings and trepidations. She, herself, was honest with her trusted children, revealing to the observant some of her fears and uncertainties. Today she must feel a little uncertain about the future. The roads of Fate were filled with freedom - the freedom to choose the course of heart or mind, or to even dart from the path and forge anew the road into the future.

Mihai was a creature of freedom, and Mihai could be very unpredictable when the mood was upon her. He looked toward the head of the advancing column. There rode Mihai, tall, proud and majestic, her long tresses loosed from under her golden helm, dancing with the dusty breeze in rhythm with her horse's flowing mane. It was such a joy to watch the woman ride, she and the mount moving as if one body, one soul and heart. As were most of the children from this universe, Mihai was a horse master, born and raised upon the backs of these beasts.

Jonathan mused if heaven could be described in only a few words to the sons from his old world, he would call it 'the kingdom of the horse'. The children ate, drank and breathed horse. Tapestries, art, murals and statues abounded everywhere of this Equidae and equestrian delight. Winged horses and unicorns were not the dreaming inventions of the men of his world. No, for Jonathan had been amazed at the countless representations of these mythical animals that abounded in this world, even upon the palace walls of EdenEsonbar.

Thinking again of their new king, Jonathan sadly frowned. He loved Mihai, owed her everything, would follow her without question, die for her if only asked, and he understood that Mihai might well ask such a favor, though unwittingly, from the very ones she cared for the most. Impetuous, brash, impulsive she was. Get her dander up and she might do just about anything, and often it might well be the regrettable anything she would decide to do. His friend, Paul, once said of Mihai, 'As unpredictable as a tempest upon the open sea she is, for in her fury, she may well save you by blowing a favorable wind to safe harbor or instantly, without warning, drive you upon the rocky shoals that will tear you apart.'

The purveyor of those words rode off to Mihai's left. Though he sat his saddle well, it was obvious that the man was not as comfortable in the stirrups as were his companions. He also did not enjoy the marshaling aspect of this world. The armor he wore ill-suited him and the weapon he carried at his side suited him still less. Paul preferred robes of state, and dallied only enough with the arts of war to satisfy the request of Mihai. He had been heard to say more often than once, 'I prefer the tools of diplomacy over those of hostility. Should our worlds collide in mortal conflict, may it be won with the sword of the mouth over that of the hand - something, I sadly doubt, can be the case.'

Looking to Mihai's other side, Jonathan chanced upon the person of the newly appointed field marshal. The man marveled. Now there was a warrior divine! Sat a horse as if born to it... No, sat the animal as if lord over it, bending it to her will. As much as he admired and loved Mihai, Jonathan's heart burned with a passion for Trisha. Not that he felt he was physically attracted to her...something he refused to admit to himself...he sensed the power and might hidden within her, as if she was bred from pure warrior stock and was now released to deliver to the world that power.

During the days before the departure for the prisoner exchange, Zadar had cajoled his friend into accompanying him and Trisha on one of their practice sessions. The afternoon was spent with the horses. There was nothing Trisha could not nor dared not do from the back or often under the belly of a galloping horse. The woman repeatedly hit tiny, hanging targets with bow and arrow, or one of the magnificent shooting weapons gifted her by that Jebbson fellow, some of them at nearly 12 rods.

Trisha could hook her feet in the saddle in a way that allowed her to hang upside down and shoot from under the belly of her mount, and do it with equal accuracy as when riding atop the beast. Also, with the lance she was matched rarely by the others, skewering small fruit with one while riding at full gallop. And don't count her down while she carried a sword in her hand! Jonathan believed few would survive one of the woman's determined onslaughts while hefting that weapon.

The field marshal rode close beside Mihai and a little behind, restraining her huge red roan gelding from its desired pace. Unlike most of the advanced color guard, Trisha was rather plainly attired. Her armor was burnished bright, but carried little ornamentation, and other than the long horsetail flowing out from a plume holder at the top of her helm, there was little to make her stand out apart from an ordinary cavalry officer. Her final distinguishing accoutrement was a sand-colored cape that covered her shoulders and draped down along the flanks of her horse. It suddenly caught Jonathan's attention that some two dozen other mounted soldiers scattered about were adorned with similar capes and helms. Curious...

And what was more curious was the body language between Mihai and Trisha. It was nearly imperceptible at first, but Mihai was riding continually in a gradual cant toward her left until she and Paul would be nearly touching. Then quickly, as though she had not noticed what happened, she would pull toward the right, glancing over her shoulder just before correcting her course so as to not get too close to her field marshal, Trisha.

At the same time that Mihai would make this first correction, Planetee would pick up her horse's gait until she was tucked in just to the left and behind Trisha. Also, but apparently unobserved by the others, Eutychus would saunter in beside Planetee, keeping a constant distance between himself and his riding companion.

Jonathan, more often called 'John' by his acquaintances, puzzled over these observations after he watched the same routine play out for a third time. Recalling a red-faced, angry Mihai reentering camp this morning, he concluded there must be some kind of a rift developed between her and Trisha since the early morning's council meeting. He had heard some quiet rumors regarding a tiff between the two, though uncertain what it was about. Still, it was apparent to him something was amiss, and he wondered, with concern, if it could affect the day's events.

(Author's note: _Gossip was a most favored form of entertainment for Lowenah's children in those days...still is. Though often innocent, it could have unintended negative consequences, so was not encouraged during that violent age, yet it still persisted. Since it was so commonly practiced by all, its roots going back countless millennia, it was used often as a conduit for misinformation by both sides during times of war or for clandestine purposes. As PalaHar once stated, 'There is not a faster line of communication in existence than when one has a juicy bit of a tale to spell for comrades with wanting ears.'_ )

Recalling earlier gossip, Jonathan wondered about Darla, turning his curious gaze upon her. Riding upon a fiery, crimson warhorse she had personally procured from the palace stables, the woman adorned it with a blazing red saddle along with a chanfron upon its head and a peytral protecting its chest, both of a burnished, golden hue. A decorated sword and scabbard belted to the saddle bounced in unison with the animal's stride. Darla's flare for the overly ornate when opportunity provided was fully evidenced this day, appearing more to be a performer in a circus than someone going to a prisoner exchange. Jonathan did not know about Lowenah's insistence on the garb Darla was attired in. She merely requested of her mother to dress the part to the full, thus the glitz of her mount.

At that instant, Darla turned and shouted something to Lowenah, who was now several paces away. After receiving nodding approval, she galloped forward toward Tizrela and PalaHar, Lowenah's honor guard. Ardon started his horse and then thought better of it, quietly sitting his mount, slowly shaking his head. Lowenah, though, followed every move her girl made, smiling in shining contentment.

It was then that Jonathan lost himself in a moment of fanciful visions. Staring at this oh, so beautiful of rapturous forms, he became lost in unbridled thought. For little more than an instant, he allowed his heart the guilty release of honest emotions, freed from its forced restraints.

'How beautiful!' the man's heart shouted. 'How majestic and mysterious! But to be with her for an hour, to feel her touch, to touch her, to gaze into those fathomless eyes while entwined in passionate embrace...'

Jonathan leaned back in his saddle still lost in fantasy's visions. 'Who really is this person? Who can really come to know her should they have an eternity beside her?' As a desperate ache of longing desire pummeled him, his heart cried out to his mind, 'How does a mortal sing a heartsong to one so deserving yet so unreachable? Can a man of dust really expect to achieve the love of one so pure in beauty and unfathomable in soul?'

A head spun around at that instant. Shocked, Jonathan found two piercing, emerald-green eyes staring into his hazel orbs, setting his heart ablaze with passions fulfilled. Suddenly his mind was swirling with countless sweet refrains of love's desires, as a voice echoed above the musical tumult, 'Most comely is the man who confesses his flirtatious desires from afar. He is not the only soul desiring Love's feasts. You do make my heart sing with the joy of a maiden in the chase. One day, you and I... One day... thank you...'

For some time, Jonathan basked in the afterglow of this most unexpected encounter, dreamily lost in a future time and place where all these fantasies were to become fulfilled. At length, those sweet visions faded and he returned to pondering the contradictory world of men and machines surrounding him.

The sound of pounding hoofs roused him from his vexing daydreams. Jebbson rode up fast on Jonathan's left, reining in hard as he came close beside him. "Hey, old fellow!" he shouted, grinning. "Or should I ask, 'why such a sober sides?' This is our big day! Got a feelin' we're gonna do some serious butt-kickin' today. Don't be so glum!"

Jonathan half smiled and then frowned, "I'm not glum!" Raising an eyebrow, he sputtered, "I was thinking... pondering...something I doubt you do much of. Seems all you can manage is to speak like an uneducated ruffian who's been in the sun too long."

Jebbson's grin broadened as he waved his hand about in confusion. "Gosh and all, now I'm completely befuddled, nearin' an upset. All them big words sort a' confuse the likes like me. Wish you'd talk simpler to my ignorant ears, Captain."

Jonathan threw his hands up in disgust. "O shut up, you! Don't call me Captain... and I'm not talking big words, and you're no ignoramus. What do you want, and why have you arrived to pester me and disturb my mind?"

Letting go an uproarious laugh followed by a sound slap on Jonathan's shoulder, Jebbson hooted, "Now that's my boy! Yep, I just came over to stir the pot a little and say hello. All right! All right! I'll be good for a little while. Tell me, now, what's goin' on in your head? I've been watchin'. Why so somber? What you been thinkin'?"

Jonathan looked Jebbson up and down, curiosity growing at what he was observing as he sputtered politely, "I'll tell you some of what I've been thinking if I can ask you something afterward."

"Deal!" Jebbson shouted.

"All right, I'll tell you, and no making fun about what I'm thinking." Jonathan warned.

Wearing his big, toothy grin, Jebbson made a motion with his hand over his chest. "Cross my heart and..."

Having no idea what Jebbson meant, Jonathan fussed, interrupting, "Oh you! You're hopeless! But I do look for you to be respectful."

Jonathan turned his gaze upon the procession of wagons and mounted travelers, carefully studying them. Looking back at Jebbson, he began, "This is such a queer world...so queer. These people travel in giant ships across endless expanses of space to strange and exotic planets in star systems so distant an ordinary telescope cannot see them. They have machines that think and serve them in ways the servants of my day served their masters. They have fast wagons that quietly float above the surface of the ground, and weapons that can destroy the enemy many leagues away. And, yet, here I see these people on a very serious quest, riding upon horses and carrying weapons of swords, axes and arrows. Suits of armor a thousand years old they cover themselves with, beasts of burden pulling giant wagons that float above the ground, horse maidens, campfires, torches and the like."

He sighed, "These people carry on with saintly processions of serious sobriety followed by bouts of unbridled emotion filled with intoxicated merriment and unchecked flirtations. They blush red with the revealing of the slightest of innocent naiveté while openly practicing intimate conjugal acts beside a heavily traveled thoroughfare.

"What is it with these people? I do not understand them at all. Look at them. They love the past so much they refuse to see the present. I have read their history, the history of these wars. Their captains lead from the front, sure to be killed in battle. They charge the most fortified of positions with sword and pike, facing missiles and bombs as they would a helmed knight. Their chariots of steel race through the skies above, raining down destruction while they butcher one another with axe and blade on the horrid fields below." He shook his head sadly. "Knowledge does not make for wisdom. Indeed, should a people refuse to change, how will they survive?"

Jebbson patted Jonathan on the arm. "That, Captain, is the reason we have come here." He looked into Jonathan's face. "We, the Children of the Damned, seek what is always new when it comes to killing our foes. The newest and the best, that's what we do, obtain the newest and the best. We glory in the extermination of our enemy on the field, wishing for none of them to have a returning home. Why, our history shows that we murder the sick and wounded upon the field, and then butcher the camp followers accompanying the enemy host, and then destroy their cities and ruin their people as best we can when there remain no defenders to protect them. Yes sir, Captain, we practice war differently than our brethren do in this world."

He grinned garishly, "Oh yes, these people have devised hideous ways to exterminate their fellows, and torture is all too common, primarily in the enemy camp, but deep within their hearts they detest the violence. Even some of the enemy does, I believe. On the other hand, our kind revels in destruction. Our righteous indignation permits us to commit the most abhorrent and unspeakable atrocities upon anyone we call 'our enemy'. Rape, pillage, torture, and murder are what is meted out upon those who have offended us."

Looking about at the surrounding troop, he wryly commented, "We have been delivered here by the Maker of the Universe to convert this world to a new religion, a religion that glorifies war, making it holy and acceptable. We are to teach these people how to revere the murder and destruction that we hold so sacred."

He turned his gaze and stared into Jonathan's eyes, his smile having fled. "We must rape and pillage... destroy the hearts and spirits of this childlike lot, pervert them to our way of thinking. Forever will innocence be gone from this world, at least for these people. A shadow of darkness sweeps over this universe even now, a darkness that shall never fully be removed. We \- you and me, and the others of our kind brought to this wretched place - are the goblins and demons who will forever haunt this world, continually reminding it that by evil was evil destroyed, and that by evil immortalized does the universe eternally remain at peace."

Jonathan did not fully grasp the extent to which Jebbson confessed, but he did understand enough to nod his head in agreement. It saddened him to think that he, too, was delivered to this place not to speak of peace and love, but to bring about violent destruction, something he had been spared from doing up to this time.

Leaning forward, Jebbson patted his mount. "Yes sir, this here prisoner exchange ain't what it's all talked up to be, to exchange prisoners and all, and get our hostages back."

He sneered, "Oh, we'll get 'em back, all right...those still alive. I bet they've had quite a time of it, not like the cushy life Salak and his crew has had of it. Legion and that fat little girly-man of his, Godenn, wouldn't allow such fun things to pass their attention by. Been workin' those poor bastards since the Zephath was taken, I imagine." His steely-blue eyes narrowed as his face hardened. "No sir, I know exactly where this show's a goin'. Today's a new day, Captain, and I intend to welcome it with a little appropriate celebration of my own."

Surprised, Jonathan queried, "What are you up to? Our king, Mihai, runs this show and she cautioned us to act civil and keep our place. Let the experienced counselors negotiate for the prisoners. We're here to learn, to see how it's done."

Jebbson nodded, "That's right, we're here to learn, do the learning, I mean. Gonna be a lot a' lessons learnt this day, a lot a' lessons taught. That ol' Snake's gonna be put on notice that he ain't dealin' with those who ascribe to the pen and handshake. He's gonna learn that this new breed of chillun sign their agreements in blood...their opponents' blood."

Taken aback, Jonathan stared into Jebbson's face, seeing the man's stolid determination. 'Strange, so strange...' he thought to himself. In his world of old, a king's command would have gone unquestioned, there being no debate whatsoever concerning its wisdom or valor. And the histories he had studied of his own kind supported that to have been the case for the greater part of man's existence. But this Jebbson fellow was born into a world so different from any that had come before, so different that it created a race of men boldly stubborn, arrogant, independent, and... and freedom-loving, who would chance to defy even the ruling king of this universe should their freedom be threatened.

Jonathan puzzled. He was well schooled in the history of this nation of Jebbson's that based its political beliefs upon the right of the individual, creating a bill of rights and set of laws that allowed its citizens to depose their ruler by voting him out of power. The stories of the savagery and tenacity that drove the people of that new nation to conquer a continent from one ocean to another amazed him, and this done not by a giant army led by some outstanding captain, but by the sheer willpower of the masses as they pushed ever westward into their new world.

Much to his enjoyment, Jonathan had absorbed himself in the studies of this period of time in man's history, this one nation in particular. The thought of a civil war being fought over the right to choose one's own destiny, and to free the souls of strangers enslaved to cruel taskmasters was almost overwhelming. And to be staring into the face of a man who had been part of that movement, who charged into the jaws of death merely because he believed it the right thing to do? Well, that was entirely a different matter.

A shudder ran down Jonathan's back. The race of men Jebbson characterized took pride in their explosive independence almost to point of madness. They were as wild as the new land they explored, and as proud of their recklessness as his own people had been of their refined culture. Books and tales of this race of people were amazing enough, but to observe someone who lived there, and believed in that kind of freedom? Jonathan just did not have words for it.

When comment was ever made regarding this lot, Lowenah always remained silent concerning the wild, independent spirit displayed...a spirit that often bordered upon being rude. Jonathan had occasioned to meet a few others from that strange land of Jebbson's. They all acted like they carried a chip on their shoulder, had a right to, and were proud of it. Sometimes their actions were offensive to him, what with all their strutting around like a peacock. He never figured out why such crass, even uncouth characters were delivered here, other than to test everyone's patience.

Now he sat his horse only an arm's length away from one of these wild people. He liked Jebbson a lot, always had. Jebbson was full of a contagious energy that made him naturally likable, but he also carried a dark side to him that could chill the bones. Yet as much as Jonathan enjoyed Jebbson's carefree side, it was the darkness he felt coming from the man's heart that drew him to the fellow, making him wish in a little way that he had been born and raised in his world filled with violence, risk, and... and freedom.

Freedom? Was it a disease brought upon fallen men? No. What was it, then? When smitten with it, a person would willingly die to keep it. He recalled tales of Ishtar as told him by some of the older men who witnessed the girl's actions in the arena at Ephesus. Freedom...what a wonderful and terrible thing it must be to feel it and live it the way that Jebbson fellow did! In a way, Jonathan wished that he, too, could, for just a moment feel it, to breathe its intoxicating elixir so that he could sit a free man in his own heart, become the fearless commander of his own destiny.

Growing impatient with Jonathan's pondering silence, Jebbson piped up, grinning, "All right, old fellow, you've wasted the moment in too deep a thought, or your brain slipped a gear and you're spinnin' in neutral. What's the question twirlin' 'bout in your head?"

Shaken from his inner thoughts, it took Jonathan a moment to recall what he wanted to ask. Meanwhile, Jebbson playfully chided him for his seeming memory lapse.

Finally he remembered, and after giving Jebbson severe chastisement for his inconsiderate remarks, wondered, "All those grand things you may say about it being a new day and all might well be true. Still, we are supposed to be attired in the finery of statesmen, not going to some kind of a hoedown or shindig. What is this with you? You look no more the part of an emissary on a diplomatic mission than a Cretan, a royal senator. You were on the council if you recall, and should act the part as our king requested." He shook his head. "Look at you, wearing clothes from some forgotten time and place and from a world that no longer exists. Then you cloak yourself in that gray cape as though to hide your appearance because of embarrassment. I know you're not that out of touch. You're too smart to do such things. What's up with you, and why no protective armor?"

Jebbson roared with laughter, tipping his head back as he exclaimed, "So that's what's troubling a great mind the likes of yours?"

Waiting for no reply, he looked Jonathan in the eye, grinning while answering, "What one wears on the outside means nothing compared to what clothes the heart within. Look, old fellow, you and I, that girl Darla over there, and our new king, Mihai...take a good look and see that none of us 'ceptin' possibly me, are comfortable with the duds they're wearin'. Oh yeah, they all look the part, that is 'til some one of them opens their mouth or moves around."

He pointed at himself. "Me...you and me...we don't fit into this world. We don't...can't walk the walk or talk the talk. Oh yeah, sure, we put on all the garments and read 'bout all these peoples' history, but it ain't us, not us. You and me are still stuck in our past, our bringin' up culture so to speak, 'ceptin', unlike you who's always trying to fit in with everyone up here, I like my past, am proud of it and the things I did. I lived my life as best I could and have nothin' to be ashamed of. Nothin'!"

Stretching his hand out toward Darla, Jebbson offered his observation. "Now that girl is the most uncomfortable person here. Ain't cuz she's almost naked. No, not at all! Loves being naked, prances 'round that way most the time when she ain't off soldierin'. No, she's uncomfortable because of the clothes she's got on, or I believe that's the reason. Honest person she is and doesn't like to see herself as a loose woman, someone sellin' her body for another's pleasure, and that's how she feels 'bout things right now. Least that's the way I understand it from watchin' her body language."

He then drew Jonathan's attention to Mihai. "And she's the second most uncomfortable person here, doesn't like all that king stuff, doesn't like her new field marshal... doesn't trust her I suspect, and doesn't like what's comin' down the road. Not ready for this meetin' up thing with that evil brother of hers."

Looking back at Jonathan, Jebbson added, "Could say a lot more, but I think you get my point. You have to be comfortable with your own skin and what's in it - who you are. I'm the odd man out this day. You are, too. Difference is, I'm shoutin' out to the world who I am. No mistakin' that I'm not from around here. That old demon will see the fire in my eyes this day and know I've come here to put him and his kind on notice, not the same game anymore."

He then pointed at Trisha. "Though that girl is all duded up in the armor of these people, the observant eye can tell she ain't no child of this lost world. She's come here for a reason that's a whole lot different than just retrieving a bunch of captives. She's makin' to be noticed, to put on notice that there's a new game in town. She wants the world to know there's Hell to pay a comin' down the road, and she's gonna be the one collectin' on the bill."

Jonathan fussed that he was quite comfortable. Jebbson said nothing in reply, just smiling. Jonathan countered, readdressing his previous question, "You're still out of line with the king's protocol. Her requests were very clear, and you are obviously not honoring them. And... and...please stop your foolish hillbilly prattle. You hurt my ears and make my brain spin in confusion."

Jebbson laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, I'll talk gentlemanly. In principle, I am line with orders. Went to Mihai, myself, and put my case before her worship. Although she wasn't happy with my choices, the woman graciously relented when I showed her that I was protected with armor...soft armor."

Jonathan groused, disgusted, "Armor? Soft armor? Don't take me for a fool! You're just saying that so you can wear what you want, knowing that our king is trusting of another's word. What did you tell our king, that your armor would scare the arrows away?"

Jebbson chuckled. True, he did look the part Jonathan described, his shoulder-length blonde hair covered by a dark blue officer's kepi and long, flowing mustache with a neatly trimmed two inch beard - and that was only part of his appearance that Jonathan was referring to. Jebbson's clothes were designed in the style of those he wore in his younger years mixed a little with the style of the day. His blue cavalry jacket covered a red plaid, flannel shirt decorated with hundreds of brightly colored glass beads woven into designs reminiscent of the western aborigines Jebbson often spent time with in those earlier days. Then there were the modern military Khaki trousers Jebbson was so fond of, covered by highly decorated leather leggings. He topped this all of with a giant eagle feather in his cap and soft suede moccasins on his feet.

"Yes sir, Captain," Jebbson pointed at himself. "I'm armored all right. Under this here coat of mine, I have a doublet made of soft, repellent armor, the kind of stuff that absorbs and disperses energy away from the kill spot, spreadin' out the blow 'cross a wider area. Works pretty good. Fact is most of my clothing has threads of this kind of armor woven through it. I'm tryin' to get the military to accept this new design so as to get rid of the clumsy trash they are wearin' now."

Whereas most weapons carried by the gathering this day were ornately decorative – a common custom of these people \- Jebbson's tools of war were utilitarian nearly to a fault. Strapped to his belt on the left was a small fighting axe, what he called a 'spiked tomahawk'. On his right was holstered a double-action revolver with a quick-load cylinder – an invention of his that he claimed was copied, conceptually, from an older Colt design. In a saddle scabbard there was housed a breach-loading, double-barreled, rifled weapon that supported several different varieties of cartridge ammunition. Other than a few small engravings and stampings on the metal actions of the weapons, they were rather stark, deadly simple stark. "Came for war, not for struttin' my stuff!" was Jebbson's sharp reply when asked by Jonathan about them.

Secretly, Jonathan wished he, too, carried such armament. He had been a guest at one of Jebbson's demonstrations before the War Department. The show the man put on convinced Jonathan of the need to accept these inventions should war come again to the empire. When confronted by some observers with the argument that skill with the sword and bow would win the day, Jebbson curtly retorted, "With these, I can put down a field of fire thick enough to walk on and then, if necessity forces me, I will lift my sword to finish the task. It's not gallantry that will win the coming storm, but iron and lead!"

Through the urging of PalaHar and Gabrielle, along with Lowenah's unwavering support, the council finally convinced the War Department to adopt Jebbson's recommendations and begin production on many of his designs, also placing him in charge of research and development. Though few had accepted these new weapons for their use, warehouses were beginning to fill with these tools of destruction, which proved fortuitous.

Jonathan looked up, gazing into the sky, his eyes following the reddish haze darkening off to the east. Somewhere, many leagues that way, a dust storm raged, sending evidence of its angry wrath miles into the blue of the sky, turning the horizon a dull, blood-red. For the longest time, he stared at the crimson tide floating about the landscape, his face somber in reflective thought.

Finally he turned to his friend who had been quietly observing as he rode beside him. "Tell me, please, if you can," Jonathan asked with subdued curiosity, "how does it feel, I mean, killing someone, knowing that you have taken the life of a fellow human?" He waxed apologetic. "You have killed before, haven't you?"

Jebbson grimly nodded, looking off toward the reddened sky.

Jonathan suddenly felt ashamed. "I'm sorry to have been so bold..."

Jebbson interrupted, breaking into a stoic smile. "No need to apologized," then peered into Jonathan's face. "I've done what I've done, being neither proud nor loathing of my actions. I did what I did because of what I believed at the time. I have some regrets, but little remorse...regrets at times because I chose a road that led me to those choices, but no remorse, because I did what must be done at the moment.

"Do not style me evil unless that is what you choose. I care little. Yes, I've killed men, women, children. I don't know the number. After a while, their faces blur into an indistinguishable mass, uncountable, unrecognizable. Oh yes, there is the occasional one I can clearly see, but it is a rare person that I can so recall."

"W... w... wo... women and ch... chil... children?" Jonathan stuttered.

A garish grin crossed Jebbson's face as he nodded. "Does it shock you and surprise you, a man whose entire civilization slaughtered millions of innocents in arenas for sport, to think someone could take up the slaughter for what he believed a proper cause? Look, I didn't just kill like one might do in combat. I murdered my enemy - or those I believed to be my enemies - hiding in their homes or running away, nursing mother, infant, old man. I murdered 'em all."

He stared off into the sky. "I joined the scouts after hearin' stories of savages a burnin' and plunderin' innocent homesteaders. After seein' what they did to my people, I took up the cause and became a real Injun fighter. For over three years, I terrorized the countryside, burnin' villages and killin'. In what they called the 'West' in those days, I made quite a name for myself among the locals as an Injun fighter in what later came to be called the 'Indian Wars'. I never liked the killin' but believed it was the right thing, only thing to do. I was defending what I considered my home."

Jonathan began to ask another question but Jebbson cut him off. "That's nothin'! A few years later, there was this little feud 'rose between some of my fellow countrymen...War Between the States. I believe you're familiar with that history." Jonathan nodded.

"Well, because of my reputation and some connections back east, I eventually got me a cavalry post of major in the northern army. After two years of bloody fighting, my troop and I found ourselves in some little, forgotten way-town with the whole enemy army comin' down the road at us. Orders came to hold our position. Five minutes later, the general was shot dead. Two minutes after that, the colonel was wounded, leaving me in command of seven hundred soldiers, me being the highest ranking officer on the field.

"Things got pretty hot after a while and we had to pull back or risk capture. I ordered two companies of my cavalry to attack the front of the advancing wing of the enemy on our right, and sent another company off to our left, giving the remainder of the regiment time to make an orderly retreat, what with our field pieces and all. I left three hundred of my boys behind that day, dead, half of those sent out to attack being shot from their horses. I have no idea how many of those kids on the other side my boys kilt before the day ended."

He rubbed his knee as if remembering. "By the time I left my unit... my leg shot all to Hell in some little skirmish... we'd lost ninety percent of our original troop. That's war, my friend, killin' and slaughterin', that's war."

Jonathan sat there, stunned speechless.

Leaning back in his saddle, Jebbson drawled, "After a while, killin' becomes a job, a means to an end, the end more important than the lives lost and ruined to attain that end. A little hill or rock, some position on a map, that's what's important. It ain't the tally of the dead it took to capture that rock that counts for or agin' you. You get the accolades for taking the prize, even if it kilt all of the men in your company."

Aghast, Jonathan blurted out, "How do you... does one live with the knowledge they have induced such death and destruction?"

Jebbson laughed bitterly, sardonically, "Death? Who can escape death? Tell me, my friend, can one escape death? For how long did you retreat from its ever-search? A hundred years? You still lost. It found you. In our old world, it finds everyone. No one escapes. The lucky die soon enough to have no regrets, feel no guilt. Others go on until they go in search of death, for life has become too dismal to endure."

He tipped his head back again. "We are told that all those innocents who perished at the hands of people like me... and the likes of those in your day will once again return when the universe is made anew."

"Well" he slapped Jonathan on the leg, "it's been put up for you and me to make that happen, to set things aright. We got a whole lot of fixin' to do, and to get it done, we're gonna have to do a whole bunch more killin'...murderin' if necessary. Better get used to it my friend... for a slaughterin' and a butcherin' we will go. That's what this whole prisoner exchange is all about, to set us up for the next stage, the slaughterin' and butcherin' and all."

Jonathan had paid little heed to Jebbson's abuse of the language this time, his mind set in a whirl from all the things he heard. Yes, through a fog of uncertainty, Jebbson had shone a light on things to come. The man was beginning to grasp what his future here would eventually entail. No, his was not going to be that of an orator or statesman. Lowenah had delivered him to this place because of the savagery of his kind. Jonathan was also supposed to 'deliver Hell upon Heaven' one day, and in his own special way.

He was shaken from these momentous revelations when a rider reined in close and shouted, "Mihai says to get up front on the double, wants your company for awhile."

Jebbson tipped his hat to the soldier, returning a salutation. Spurring his beast, he shouted for Jonathan to follow him. The blood-red dust kicked up from the horses was blown high into the air, drifting away in tiny, crimson clouds, silent harbingers, troubadours proclaiming the future.

(Author's note: _Jebbson's history was unique, even for the people of his day, or so the story is told. He was born an illegitimate son of a powerful nobleman. Seeking to keep the matter secret, the man made arrangements for Jebbson's still pregnant mother to emigrate to a new land far across the sea, promising to provide for her needs. When born, the boy was given the name 'Jebez Ransom Garlock', Jebez meaning 'pain', for the pain his mother suffered needing to raise a son without a father, 'Ransom' for the price she was willing to pay to give her child a decent life, and 'Garlock' after a Celtic great grandfather. When Jebbson was nine, his mother married a lawyer. From that union, he gained three half-brothers and two half-sisters._

Living up to his word, Jebbson's biological father continued to send monies on a regular basis, permitting Jebbson to attend private schools and eventually enter university. His course majors consisted of chemistry, metallurgy, gemology, and ancient history. Upon graduation, he headed west, to the wild lands. Gold had recently been discovered there and he thought he might be able to put into practice some of his new-found education.

For the next decade he wandered up and down the wilderness country, exploring high mountains, traversing barren deserts. John marveled at the endless stories this one man could tell of his personal experiences, from boating raging rivers to fighting painted, feathered warriors. It was during those years that Jebbson acquired his new name, but that is another story.

When a great civil war erupted in the East, Jebbson found it impossible to hide from its tentacles. Finally choosing sides, he enlisted in a mounted cavalry division, serving first in the West and gradually moving east until, by the war's end, he was stationed in the country's capital, working for the War Department as a munitions expert. Combat injuries hampered his health, so when given an opportunity to stay on with the department after the war, he did. For the next twenty years, he studied the designs and inventions of weapon makers from all over the country, using his education to help create more effective ways of slaughter.

It was while on a visit to one such manufacturer near a city known for its iron works that Jebbson fell into what he called 'religion'. Having nothing to do one evening, he chose to go for a stroll. Passing by a small theater, he paused to read the marquee. 'There is No Hell', read the sign. Out of curiosity, he entered. What he heard moved him so much, he never even returned to his place of work. Sending in his resignation, he focused all his attention and power on advancing his new-found religion. It became his way of life for the remainder of his days in that realm.

_Jebbson's twelve years in the First Realm were already filled with adventure. By this time, he had done much to change the thinking and views of many of Lowenah's children. He applied himself to the study of the new technology surrounding him and incorporated it with his previous knowledge. His theories regarding total warfare and subterfuge were starting to be listened to by some of Lowenah's younger children, and several of his inventions were being developed and put into use. His passion for exploration and discovery led to many exciting journeys with a few of Lowenah's most colorful children_.)

(Author's Note: _While preparing these current entries for my book, I was rewarded by an unexpected visit from the debonair Mr. Jebbson Garlock. Little has the man changed since his arrival in these realms so long ago, and little has his memory faded concerning those exciting times about which I am writing. It was not far into the course of conversation before attention was turned to a dear companion of ours – Darla - or 'Adaya' as she is known today. Below are some of Mr. Garlock's comments from our conversation concerning the woman and one of his earlier adventures he shared with her._

" _I've never seen anyone like her, not here or where we come from! She's the most magnificent creature in the universe - a whole bunch of different people rolled into one very desirable package..." he laughed, "that is, unless you rub her fur the wrong way."_

" _About three years before the prisoner exchange, I was invited to join the crew of a small cutter planning a routine excursion into the Trizentine. After a two-month patrol, we held over in a small colony on Sustrepho to take on provisions and make a few minor repairs. Just prior to departing, we received a request from Command to make accommodations for some guests and set course for Avery. Somewhere near that planet, we were to rendezvous with Oruomai and deliver our passengers. Hitching a ride with_ _the others was Darla, who was a Marine leftenant at the time. Well, you never saw such_ _a bubbly, happy person in your whole life as she was on that day. Her boyfriend, Euroaquilo, was admiral of the fleet to which Oruomai was attached, and that Oruomai was his flagship. I was fortunate enough to fall into her company, or should I say, she singled me out. You see, there seemed – seems to be a special fondness in her for people from the Second Realm. I'm not sure just why, but it's real and warm, almost passionate. I must tell you, she lavished her attention on me in every way for the rest our time together._

" _Adaya - Darla - can be the most loving and caring person in the world...was then, too. We spent hours just talking. She's the one who took time to fill me in on much of the history of this strange new place we're in. I never saw anyone more patient and polite, not just with me, but also with all the others on the ship. She allowed nothing to ruffle her feathers. Even my silly jokes and stories didn't dampen her humor."_

Jebbson's face clouded. "I saw the other side of her, too." A shudder ran down his back. "About three days out from Sustrepho, our captain received a request to search for a missing drone that had disappeared in our vicinity. Picking up its tracks, we followed its trail to some supposedly uninhabited planet. I don't remember its name, but there was an acceptable atmosphere on it and, with the help of our suits, we could manage quite well. Darla volunteered to go down with a scouting party and, after I had sufficiently begged enough, they allowed me to go with them.

" _We came in low and silent, fearing the possibility there might be some unfriendlies in the locality, and we landed about a mile from the drone. From there, we walked. Darla told me to stay close and be alert. I could feel some kind of energy...excitement, if I may say, growing in her. It was in her eyes and the way she walked. It was as if the woman were sensing something the rest of us couldn't detect._

" _There was thick undergrowth, so we were walking blind, hafting to follow the coordinates transmitted to us. Darla and I were to the left of our party, she about two paces ahead of me. She crouched forward like a cat on a hunt, slinking through the heavy brush like some ghostly apparition. Without pausing, she would push away some branch, all the while resting a hand on her derker blade or lanner. Her pace was rapid, and soon we had out-distanced the others._

" _When the drone crashed, it created a small clearing. I stepped into it about four paces behind Darla. Her hand flew out to motion me silent. I looked up to see half a dozen barbaric-looking wild creatures scavenging the little ship._

" _That was my first experience with the Stasis Pirates, a group of degenerates who joined the insurrection but refused to bow to Asotos. They were the most violent and dangerous of all the rebels, calling no one their master. Asotos used them as mercenaries and raiders, trading goods for loot or information, but he didn't trust them. The minds of many had deteriorated mentally, so that a large number acted like little more than animals._

" _Back to my account... I stood only inches from Darla. The Stasis had still not noticed us. Suddenly I heard a funny noise, a staccato-like hum coming from deep within the girl's throat. You know the sound I mean." I acknowledged hearing that same sound. "Looking into her eyes, I saw two growing, icy-hot flames of fire. That heat erupted into her face, causing it to flush red._

" _Without warning, she dove forward, her derker blade flying from its scabbard with the first step. The sound of that blade, as the blue-green energy raced up and down its edges, was the first warning those people had._

" _I've been in many battles, but I've never seen fear like I did in the faces of those creatures! They knew that death on wings was upon them. They screamed and squealed in terror. Dropping everything, and not even trying to pick up personal items, they went scurrying into the trees, howling and whooping long after they had disappeared from sight. Darla would have hunted them down had the captain not stopped her._

" _Yes sir! I never saw anything like it in my life. I didn't see Darla's face like they did, but the hair went up on the back of my neck when I heard that eerie sound coming from her. If her face matched the sound...no wonder they retreated in insane fear_.")

* * *

### Section Eight:

Of Trolls and Fated Roads

After studying drifting clouds of red dust on the distant horizon through his field glasses for some time, the man began to discern tiny dark specks advancing through the crimson-colored haze. 'Ah, the pigeons are soon upon the field.' the man mused to himself, grinning, observing the movements of Mihai's approaching entourage.

His grin slowly faded, gradually vanishing into a look of bewilderment as he continued to watch through his eyepiece. Although he could now see two contingents of riders separated from one another by a train of wagons floating above the talc-like dust being drawn by several teams of horses, in the van also rode a line of armed soldiers. Out in front of the main body to its right and left were small companies of flankers, six riders wide and four deep.

The man puzzled, lowering his glasses and turning to an officer standing next to him. "Strange...there are more armed soldiers than I expected, and they ride as if in battle formation. Neither Gabrielle nor that little bitch field marshal has ever risked such a bold maneuver when coming to a prisoner exchange. It's not their style." He took another look through the glasses, unable to yet discern the faces of those in the approaching company. "What's that little tramp up to? And the mother of harlots...is she up to some mischief?" Handing the glasses over to an orderly, he commanded the officers around him, "Keep a good eye out for trouble. Something's up, can't tell yet, but whatever it is, I don't expect you to allow it to spoil the day, understand?"

He then turned to face his officers, striking such a pose as to elicit adoration from these men, and justifiably so, for the man was stunningly handsome in appearance and stature. 'Like one of the gods of legend', it was told by any casting their gaze upon him, having a bold chin, cleanly shaven, a disarming, smiling grin, a mouth filled with dazzling white teeth, a strong, straight-bridged nose disappearing under the shadow of a pronounced, furrowed brow, and sun-blonde, short-cropped hair. Yes, the man was quite a sight to behold.

But it was his eyes that were so hypnotically alluring, sky blue and fathomless, piercing and enchanting. His irresistible stare could bore deep into the soul, forcing surrender of a person's heart regardless of will or countenance. Few could resist the man's gaze, and those who did manage were forever changed.

His tongue, though, was his most bewitching and disarming weapon. Smooth and beguiling were his words spoken through prose and verse, calming the disquieted spirit of an agitated heart and reassuring the troubled nature of a weary soul. So many he had charmed to his side by singing to their troubled hearts with his Cherubic music, singing of better times and renewed hope for days long past. Yes, it was his golden tongue and winsome verse that drew multitudes to him and that kept them his lasting prisoners.

Gently resting a hand on the shoulder of his second in command, he addressed the entire gathering. "My fellows, this is a great and wonderful day, a new and glorious page in the history of the League of Brothers!" In reference to Lowenah, he declared, "Even though Erithia has joined her presence to this rabble group, we will come off victorious! That harlot of hidden powers holds no sway over us because I, perceiving her evil presence here, have forced her by her own decree to abstain from using any of her wicked powers this day."

Grinning, he continued, "Her twisted arrogance will allow her no recourse other than to silently watch as lessons are taught this day. No sooner can she bend her own selfish rules than to stop time and make it go backward, even when it is to her desperate advantage. Unless I call out for her to do so, she must remain silent in deed and tongue. Do you think me the fool to do that?" He broke out with a hearty laugh, his men doing the same.

Again taking on a serious tone, he pointed toward the approaching companies. "My brothers, the hour is almost upon us. Look and see! Like locusts, the witch comes with her hordes. Like a great tide on the oceans, she moves ever forward to consume the shore. Like a winter storm, she covers the land in darkness. See the witch come. Wielding the stolen powers of ancient fortresses, she proceeds without fear."

Lifting a fist high, he declared, "Today we will teach her remorse! Today, her heart we shall cast down into nothingness! Surrender her power to us she will, to save a few useless treasures...meaningless little treasures that only a hopeless fool would desire."

Stepping back as his soldiers snapped to attention, the man shouted, "We wait for the nearing hour when glory will shine down upon us! Act with quick purpose when duty places its hand upon you!" Then, saluting his officers, he sent them away with these final words, "Now go and give attention to your assigned duties so that this day will be filled with glorious victory!" With a smile of satisfaction, like a father watching his sons faithfully carrying out what he requested of them, the man followed those handsomely dressed, loyal officers with his eyes as they hurried away.

A gilded and ornate style was the fashion of this army. The dress uniform of the lowliest of officers was dazzling in its splendor, for this was the honor guard of the army of resistance, Satan's army.

What of its leader? His uniform reflected his glory: burnished, golden armor embossed with the finest of engravings and jewels covering a blood-red blouse, flaming-red kilt, a wide leather belt supporting a girdle of layered, armored plates of chrysolite, all covered by a long, flowing red cape that fluttered in the breeze like a banner upon the battle plain, complemented by a grand, golden-crested helm the man held in his hands.

This captain of his people carried no visible weapons, choosing to take on the appearance of benevolent peacefulness at this prisoner exchange. Yet anyone knowing the man was aware that within his being he carried the powers of the elements over soul and mind. He could so easily twist up a person's heart to see things his way. Very few could resist his charms. The one he dreaded most who could do so was absent this day. So, without lifting a hand, this man believed he could bring his approaching enemy to ruin.

At length, he addressed the lone officer remaining. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Asotos suggested they follow the others. As they turned to go, the man leaned close in private conversation. "My dear, sweet brother, you know how great my affection is for you. Legion, our love is deep and journeys back to beyond time, but it is not only the manly comfort given that builds such a bond between us. You are my right hand in difficult times. I depend on your wisdom and prowess to bring us success, as is expected of you."

Legion smiled humbly. "My dearest of brothers, Alithea, what greater honor can exist beyond praise coming from the lips of such a divine magistrate? To honor you, I have prepared diligently, laying out a feast for the eyes that shall assuredly overwhelm the hearts of our approaching host with the greatest of emotions. Spies have reported to me that...that the creature, one I shall not name, is stretched to the limit of her endurance. I believe she will quickly surrender to her baser instincts when she sees the welcome I have prepared for her."

Alithea, whose given name was 'Chrusion'...although the children of the Empire addressed him only as 'Adelphos' when around Lowenah while privately calling him 'Asotos'...frowned ever so little, pulling Legion in close so that only he could hear his words. "I am very pleased to have someone so devoted to this cause as you are, and I appreciate the tireless energy you have invested in making this day a success, but..."

Legion became concerned. "But what, my brother?"

Alithea's face filled with questioning remorse. "Troubling news has come to my ears concerning the treatment some of the prisoners have received. Yes, yes, the unruly need be handled with a firm hand lest they believe us weak. Still, there are others where possible malfeasance has been visited upon them. Sirion, for example..."

Legion's face filled with surprise, but his eyes betrayed the game that was being played out. Alithea must pretend the part of a concerned father who defends the rights of all the people in his charge. There was a bill of rights and a constitution belonging to the League of Brothers that established certain inalienable rights for all. Numerous also were the rules of conduct written for the protection of war prisoners. Every citizen of that nation possessed a copy of such laws and regulations, these precepts being required study for them.

This little game of self-righteous indignation for any possible violation of the nation's wonderful laws concerning respect and freedom must be carried out to the full. Few if any of Alithea's leading officers gave heed to those laws, and only a fool ever lifted up his book of rights in a court to declare his freedoms. But to openly act in defiance of them without proper justification might get a person killed or even worse, for there were many worse things than death that flitted about the shadows of Alithea's kingdom.

Legion waxed apologetic, defensive. "My brother...my king, I sincerely admit that there have been some indiscretions carried out against a few of the prisoners, I believe by those seeking revenge for real or imagined atrocities committed against them by the evil horde. These matters I have addressed with those in charge of the prisoners, demanding they protect them with their own lives if need be. There was also the horrid condition many of the prisoners arrived in when delivered into our hands by the Stasis Pirates."

Gazing toward the distant ships, he sighed, "War is such an evil thing. It forces a person into actions so displeasing to the heart. This mission is pivotal to the very existence of our kingdom. Nothing must be allowed to threaten its success. I fear there were times when persuasive measures were carried to an extreme, but it was done only for the cause. Look and see. The arts of persuasion need not be violent and destructive to the flesh. These were used only when necessary and to satisfactory success. Sirion, on the other hand?"

Legion turned away, wiping a hand across his face. With tear-filled eyes, he looked back at Alithea. "Sirion, and a few of the others - you must understand, there was no other choice or our purpose might be threatened. That bitch-woman who stands as field marshal must be stretched to her limit. Her love for Sirion is so well known. Well, I believe that Sirion is the linchpin to our success. And besides, little else has been done to the girl other than what was done by the Stasis. We merely permitted her injuries to go unattended. When this ordeal is finished, she will be given whatever assistance is needed."

Bowing his head in sadness, Alithea lamented bitterly, "Sirion was the last of the virgin children come to my bed to refresh my spirit. She I wished so much to train up in all the ways of sweet lovemaking, but alas, when only a little child, she was stolen away from me by Tolohe, the girl wanting so to escape with us in our flight. But that witch-woman of darkness kidnapped the girl and turned her against me, her only true lover."

Looking up and into Legion's face, Alithea forced a grim smile. "After this day's ordeal is over, and if that little child still lives, I wish for her healing to be made complete so that I can personally give to her what she deserves."

He turned toward the growing dust cloud, shaking his fist in anger. "I wish for them all to get what they deserve! They... Erithia...she has ruined it all! Now it is her day to pay the price for such wicked insolence. She must suffer! They all must suffer! For all the evil done to us, retribution must be meted out to them!"

Looking back into Legion's hypnotic eyes, colored the richest of deep hazel hues, Alithea apologized, "It is not the fault of my dear, loving brother that evil has befallen Sirion or the others. It is the evil witchery of Erithia and those who stand arrogantly beside her in defiance of truth and justice! I find no sin in you at all. Indeed, you were the kindest and gentlest of all my brothers until that adulterous witch cast her evil spell over us."

Lifting a hand, he shook a finger at Legion. "I promise! I swear one day we will prevail over all this evil. We will take back the Palace and return to ourselves the hidden power Erithia stole from me, her brother. Yes, I say her brother whom she claims she birthed! It is not the case at all! My inheritance she stole from me, and I shall one day retrieve it from her wicked hands. Then we shall see. Then we shall see..."

At that Alithea reached out, arms wide, and gave Legion a gripping embrace, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. Legion affectionately offered Alithea a hug and kiss, speaking consoling words of sympathy to his older brother. This was the last part of the act Alithea so often played out among his senior officers, especially when the wine was on him. So long had the fable been told by this man that he was coming to believe it, but Legion knew the facts, the reality that all living flesh came into existence through the birthing into life by Erithia. Still, it was all the better to silently go along with the man. After all, there was hidden power somewhere. Maybe it was in the Palace.

At length, Legion stepped back, offering Alithea a warm smile. "I must be about my duties, else..." He stared into Alithea's ocean-blue eyes, revealing the longing in his own. "Everything must be perfect for the day, a few final details tended to. My lord and brother, I look forward to this night's victory celebration."

At that, Legion hurried away toward the camp. Alithea turned once more to watch for but a moment the gathering dust clouds and then quickly followed his brother.

(Author's note: _'Erithia', a name given to Lowenah [Ma-we] by those who joined in the Rebellion, reflected the deep contempt harbored within their hearts for the one they used to call 'Mother'. Its root meaning is 'the causer of strife and faction', and it reflects the common opinion of these children that she was the real villain and creator of division in the First Realm._ )

* * *

A frantic voice heard over the intercom filled the officers on the bridge with fearsome dread. "The explosion took out the port control systems! We have people injured. Number two and three boilers are overheating! Crews are attempting to shut them down, but the damage is making it difficult. We must jettison fuel from the tanks that feed those boilers or..."

The intercom suddenly went dead, quickly followed by a violent shudder racing through the ship. Flames burst out through a ruptured hull, carrying away with it the number three boiler and engine rooms along with several of the crew. If not for the energy shield surrounding Chisamore, it would have been torn asunder, killing everyone aboard. As it was, the majority of officers and crew manning the port boilers and engine rooms perished in the conflagration.

Within seconds, noxious, burning fumes were flooding all aft compartments and hangar bays. The captain ordered the holds to be sealed as the tumult of one concussive explosion after another could be felt blasting through the ship. Chisamore was fatally wounded, but not yet destroyed. It was the captain's duty to salvage what souls he could. Those who were trapped in the raging destruction behind sealed bulkheads would have to survive as best as may be until rescue was afforded them.

Terey was thrown from her chair to the floor, piles of papers and books tumbling down from the desk onto the woman. Screeching of ripping metal and buckling deck plates was deafening, her apartment being on 'C' deck just forward the number three engine room. Jumping up to the sounds of bleating sirens and red, flashing hazard lights, the woman dove for the opened doorway just as the lighting died and the ship violently pitched to starboard, throwing her back into the room.

Spinning crazily around in the blinding darkness, Terey fell, smashing her face against a footlocker, breaking her nose and cutting a deep, bloody gash across her forehead. Stunned, she fell to the floor in a faint.

When Terey came to, the air hung heavy with an acrid odor of poisonous gases. Frantically, she groped in the blackness for the fire locker. Half blinded by blood streaming into her eyes, she felt her way around the room until crimson rays of the flashing hazard lights reflected off the chrome handle on the locker. Releasing the latched door, the woman could do little more than groggily fumble through its contents for a respirator facemask, managing with great difficulty to put it on.

The filtered air helped revive Terey and clear her head. Using the wall to steady herself, she managed to stand and stumble out into the passageway. Its floor was unreasonably warm, indicating the flight deck directly below must be ablaze. Choosing to go forward, she turned to the right and hurried as best she could down the companionway toward the front of the ship.

Going was difficult at best. Not only did Terey's injuries hinder her sight, growing pain was making it hard to concentrate in the frothing smoke, so thick that only the ghostly red glow of the emergency lights could penetrate it. Clutching the handrail that ran along the wall, Terey slowly made her way down the corridor until it opened onto a catwalk that traversed the 'D' deck storage bay. On the other side of this bay, she would find the portal for her escape.

As of yet, 'D' deck storage bay, filled with fighters in various stages of repair, had not been damaged. Thick smoke rolled in through the two aft passageways, quickly filling the area with toxic fumes. The air forward was not as fouled, and Terey could see a closed bulkhead door on the other side of the catwalk. Her hope for survival increased.

At that instant, another violent tremor rocked Chisamore, pitching Terey to the deck and ripping away her facemask. In futile desperation, the woman searched for the mask in the burning smoke, its noxious poisons tormenting her eyes and lungs. In only seconds, Terey was retching in uncontrolled vomiting, but her heart refused to give up the fight for survival. Having only her sense of direction, she struggled forward on hands and knees to seek escape, a sick headache sapping her strength until she was crawling along on her belly.

After what seemed an eternity, each breath burning her lungs like a blazing firebrand and every movement agonizing, Terey made it to the closed hatch. Try as she might, the woman no longer possessed the energy to reach the hazard switch that would alert others beyond the door to the presence of someone on this side.

Totally exhausted, Terey could no longer contain her emotions. Like a forlorn little child, the woman began to weep, not for her coming death but for the futility of effort and struggle - it being all for naught. She reached up once more for the button protruding beyond the wall only inches from her fingers. Then there came another violent shaking of the ship and a sudden crashing that fell upon Terey's ears.

Before the woman could cover her head for protection, a heavy girder broke loose, smashing into the wall above her, falling across her back after crushing her hand. Terey cried out in anguish as her face crashed into the deck plates. A sudden rush of freezing air racked her body as a black cloud consumed her mind. The valve on a nearby oxygen container had been ruptured by the falling girder, burning the unconscious woman's flesh, but also filling starved lungs with life-saving oxygen.

On the other side of the sealed hatch, blatting sounds and flashing lights were catching the attention of firemen stationed near a boson's locker off the upper hangar deck. Cautiously, they approached the door, contemplating the risk of opening it. Was someone seeking escape, or was it a false alarm?

The fire captain stared at the hatch. She alone must decide, there being no time to seek approval from the bridge. The life of the entire crew might well rest on the choice she had to make, or possibly the life of just one person stranded on the other side of that door. Safety or destruction, the life of many or possibly few, or only one, wisdom or foolish emotion, life-saving rescue or misjudged folly, what was it to be?

* * *

Her nightmarish visions were only intensifying, haunting voices from the distant past crying out troubling words that stirred half-forgotten memories. All the while, ghostly shadows danced before the girl's eyes - faceless shapes of ruthless men dragging along their captives, the screams of a little child as it was tossed through the air only to disappear into a gathering void filled with the ferocious roars of hungry cats. And then she saw a man begging for mercy being delivered to the same fate, except this time the girl was forced to watch, horrified, as the beasts consumed the man's very being.

Terrorized, the girl screamed until she believed her lungs were bursting, but no screams could she hear for her mouth produced no sound. "Run! Run away as fast as you can!" the girl's mind shouted, but her feet refused to move, she standing as if frozen, staring down into that horrid pit.

Suddenly, a hand appeared out of the darkness. Withered and deformed it was. Then a kindly, fatherly voice sounded upon her ears - a voice that filled the air with its putrid breath. "Come, please, my little child. There is no need for you to suffer such grief. Take my hand and allow me to whisk you away to the safety of inner chambers so that I may comfort you." The air was suddenly cut by the sound of sinister laughter.

The girl's nostrils filled with the nauseating stench of rotting filth and evil death. She shrank away from the grotesque shape rising out of the shadows whose hand ever searched for the touch of living flesh. Whether it be demon or man, she could not tell, but its smile was so familiar so as to stir memories of nightmares past.

The mouth opened in the beast's face, breaking into a comforting smile. "Come, my lovely child..." Fingers on the beast's hand curled in a motioning appeal for her to obey. "I will rescue you from all this, help you forget this evil place. Back to you mother's arms I will take you, back to her safety."

Shaking her head violently, the girl screamed, "No! No! I cannot! Will not! Will not betray my God, the one I love!"

Suddenly the girl's heart burst free of panic's grip. She stood tall and defiant, shouting, "I am a free woman, servant or slave to no man or demon!"

Instantly all sound stopped, the hungry roars, the pleading voice, even the sound of the girl's beating heart in her ears. Everything around her froze into stillness, as if all about her was nothing more than a painted mural of frightening imagination. While staring dumbstruck at the scene, a sound like crackling ice flooded her thoughts. Then, suddenly, without warning, everything about her exploded into countless sparkling crystal shards, leaving the girl standing in a black, oppressive void.

Ever so slowly, the stifling blackness faded into a moonless night filled with the most beautiful of glittering stars. The air was pleasant and the breeze refreshingly warm on the girl's naked skin. Gone were the foul odors and horrid sounds, replaced with nature's happy night songs and the scent of early summer flowers, the quiet roar of a distant sea as its waves fell upon the shore the only other sound to be heard. With a becalmed heart and quiet breath, the girl waited for her eyes to gather in what hid out in this evening darkness, for her spirit warned her that she was not alone in this world, yet no dread did she feel concerning it, only curious anticipation.

Then she heard it - the beautiful and terrible sound of martial music. The moon awoke in the eastern sky, rising as if in concert with the gathering strength of the melodious storm. Searching, at last the girl caught sight of a military band, its numbers beyond the counting of a child such as herself. She stood on a small hillock, watching the marchers pass by to the right and left until the crowd surrounded the hillock many ranks deep. There they stopped, facing away from the girl. On they played, one gloriously stirring tune after another, their music filling the sky until the very earth shook in response to it. But why had the marching band stopped here, at the base of this knoll? It was a question soon answered.

The waxing moonlight suddenly revealed a far vaster marshaling throng approaching from the north. Like the tide from the sea, like a rushing, consuming wave they appeared to be, until the entire land dissolved beneath their feet so that only the little hillock stood above the mighty onslaught. Fearsome was the marching army of warriors, hands gripping swords and pikes, spears and bows, the golden light of the moon dancing upon their helms and breastplates.

Awestruck, the girl stared in amazement, but even more so as she continued to watch unfolding events. Out of the darkness arrived armies of people dressed as she had never seen before in coats of gray, green and blue, some in colors mixed and splotched with many hues, carrying long sticks that shot fire into the sky while sending crashing thunders upon the girl's ears. Mixed in with this great host were mounted cavalry far too numerous to number, and giant machines being driven along without horses, with mightier sticks that shook the sky with thunderous voices.

On this vast company rolled. Clear to the horizon and beyond, this wondrous military force marched, all the while the countless voices of this host shouting out in chorus fearsome words to the music being played by the band surrounding the hillock. What a grand sight! What a grand sight! Never had the girl witnessed such wonders. Oh, how fear-inspiring! Just as her heart felt it could gather no more excitement within itself, sights even more profound captured the girl's attention.

There arose a tumult that took her breath away. Feeling it at first in her toes, the vibration raced through her feet and up her legs until it droned like countless flying beasts in her head, sweeping over the land, drowning out the songs and shouting cries of the army on its southerly march. Off to the north, the sky was filling with moving shadows of giant winged creatures in flight. In amazement, the girl searched to see what kind of birds could gather in such numbers so as to fill the night sky to the blotting out of the moon and stars.

She then let out a cry. Why, these were not birds the likes of which she had ever seen, but birds or flying beasts, huge and powerful, machines of flight from the tales told her from the ages of witches and demons...machines, the machinations of the spirit world that rained down fire and destruction upon the world of men! Yet no dread did the girl feel concerning them, only profound awe regarding their size and number. What was this all about? Such power and glory, what was it all about?

The girl could not be dreaming, could she? This was all so real...too real. If this was a dream, what kind of a dream was it? An omen of the world's ending, some distant event from ages long ago, or future prophesies yet to be fulfilled? The girl wanted to know, needed to know, but no one paused to explain to her what this was about even when she cried out to the marching throng for answers. On they went, singing out their mighty songs of war, yet paying no heed to the girl's inquiries. On and on the army marched, until it looked to be the ocean itself was sent to consume the land. From horizon to horizon, north to south and east to west, it filled this world.

Finally, when the night had moved well along and yet no ending was in sight for the passing of this great army, and when the girl herself was feeling the fatigue of the long night pressing in upon her, someone shrouded in shadow emerged from the throng and passed along and up the hillock toward the girl. As if coming from a tunnel of light, the figure approached. At little more than an arm's reach, the person cloaked in darkness stopped.

The girl felt no fear, only wonder. She cried aloud when she saw that the radiant light followed up from behind until it entered and consumed the person standing there with a golden radiance brighter than the moon that still hung high in the sky above. Gasping, the child looked into the most beautiful of faces set aglow by the gathering light.

A hand reached out to the girl, she in turn doing the same. Fingers touched and intertwined. As they did, the power of the light entered the girl so that she, too, became aglow with its brilliance. Slowly the golden light faded and there, before the child, stood a woman whose beauty betrayed her to be no child of Earth, eyes hypnotic emerald-green, brunette locks the richest of burnished hue, and her skin the smoothest of silky-white. The girl shivered with quizzical consternation. The woman's face, her eyes...something about her was so familiar yet so hauntingly mystical.

The woman, so youthful in appearance but with eyes that secreted tales from long-forgotten times, appeared to be little older than the girl. She wore only a sleeveless satin gown, adorned with two silver brooches at the shoulders. The girl knew this woman, or had known or at least dreamed of this woman. Somewhere in a time passed that her heart refused to recall, the two had met, had made promises to each other and given oaths, but when, the girl could not recount.

"Ishtar..." the woman cooed so softly.

Ishtar? Ishtar? The girl swooned as tumultuous dreams flooded her mind, the woman's grip on her hand the only thing preventing the girl from tumbling over. Ishtar! Now she remembered. That was her name! But how, who, what was going on? So many troubling memories were now waking in a confusing cacophony of jumbled recollections.

The woman gently squeezed the girl's hand, smiling, "Ishtar, we must talk."

Shocked speechless by all that was going on about her and inside her, the girl the woman called 'Ishtar' dumbly nodded in reply.

The woman's smile grew as she waited for the girl to gather her senses. At length, the woman released the girl's hand and retrieved from her bodice the most beautiful of tooled leather purses, its clasps made of the purest of silver inlaid with several tiny, colored gemstones. The purse popped open at a twist of the woman's fingers, filling the air with a cloud of brilliant, golden dust that settled to the ground about the two so that they stood in a pool of radiating light.

The woman then retrieved a crystal cup from the purse, filled with a wine that shimmered ruby-red in the golden glow. Lifting it to her lips, the woman took a long sip and then handed the cup to the girl.

"Here," the woman requested, a pleading tone carried on her lips, "take and drink with me this sharing promise I gave to you so long ago."

Hesitantly, the girl reached out and took the cup, holding it close to her lips, but she did not drink.

The woman took the girl's upper arm gently, her words filled with trepidation. "Please drink. For me, my life, take this from me." She then frowned sadly, "Should I live through this day, I will come and fulfill my vow to you to the full in reality, but give me hope now that your love is real for me. Do this one thing so that my heart may lead me into wisdom. For my hour is near, and Death ever waits for me, panting at the gate."

Ishtar tipped her head in reply, "My sister..." then lifted the cup to her lips and drank down all the wine.

Burning warmth coursed its way through the girl's body, filling her head with dizzying visions of love songs to be sung. She stared at the woman, a passion growing in her heart to hold this person, make her one with herself. As the strong drink consumed her senses, the girl so much wanted to take this woman, to make love to her in the way as a man would also find comfort with her. The desire became overwhelming to the point that the girl reached out to take the woman standing before her.

At that instant, the woman cried out in orgasmic delight and faded into shadowy nothingness. Just as quickly, the girl's own sensual desires diminished, a warm afterglow filling her heart and soul with fulfilled satisfaction. Alone she now stood in the dancing light of the golden dust, the breeze occasioning its grip to toss some of the glowing particles into the air so that they merrily danced about the girl's naked feet. A sudden gust of wind caught up a swirl of the golden dust, filling the girl's eyes with a soothing light that made her eyelids heavy. She slowly sank to the ground in a quiet sleep.

It was still dark when the girl awoke. The moon had sunk beyond the horizon and the sun was only beginning its struggle over the eastern hills. The peaceful silence was refreshing after such an uproarious night. The silence? The girl jumped up expecting to see a world empty of men and machines. Surprised she was to look out upon the vast army about her, but now all the peoples of that army were stopped, turned and silently staring up at her. What was this all about?

Looking down the hill toward the north, the girl saw a woman with platinum-white hair wearing an ornate battle helm and dressed in a flowing, silken gown decorated with sparkling gems that twinkled like the stars, the gown covered by a breastplate of glistening, burnished armor. Suspended from a wide, bejeweled belt hung a large bastard sword with a guard of gold and a handle of carved ivory. Staring into the girl's eyes, the woman, her face appearing determined and solemn, continued to make her way up the knoll. Stopping up close, the woman silently gazed at the girl until tears filled her eyes, her lips quivering in sadness.

Quietly the woman reached down and drew the sword from its glistening scabbard, the glow of the sword's blade radiating bright in the darkness of early morning. She then bowed low on one knee, her eyes cast toward the ground while lifting the sword high, flat across both hands, extending it toward the girl.

In a pleading voice reflecting dejected sorrow, the woman made an impassioned request. "Please, my Lord, take from the hands of your humble servant this gift, my very sword, born in the furnaces of secret worlds and forged by hands older than the grandest mountains. Lead the armies you see standing before you to the glory of this people. Restore to us our honor, and give back to us what the Demon of Darkness has stolen. Forever gone is our innocence, but for us, please, return to us our souls."

The girl was stunned into inaction, not knowing what to do. It was so surreal. This could not be happening! It must be a dream, but it was so vivid and real. The sword being held out shimmered in the golden shadows, the woman's hands shaking ever so slightly in worried anticipation. What was Ishtar to do?

The woman lifted her eyes toward the child, her smoky gray orbs filled with pleading apprehension. "Free is the will of the heart of a Daughter Dragon. My child, the choice is but yours to make. Should you reject this destiny, then rescue will come from another source, but my kind shall fade away into the nothing shadows of forgotten dreams. Please breathe your life once again into your sisters so they may reclaim the darkness and bring to nothing the evils in the worlds below."

Ishtar was perplexed. She was no child of violence and war, a weapon never being held in her hand. What was she to do? The desperation on the woman's face tore at the girl's heart, but she wanted no part in whatever future violence this vision or dream might portend. Looking into the woman's hopeful eyes, she felt forced to take up the sword. Finally, nodding, she reached out and lifted the blade from the woman's hands.

Warm to the touch it was as she held the weapon flat in her hands. Shimmering rays pulsating along the polished steel blade warned her of its deadly beauty. There was hidden power within, a glory far grander than what the greatest of swordsmen could muster with their own physical prowess. A force more ancient than the worlds of men was secreted beneath its glimmering surface. It was as if the sword itself was alive, having a breathing, thinking soul.

The woman spoke once more. "The hour is come to give your life's breath to this blade. Arise and take your station beside your king as queen over Heaven, Earth and Hell. You, my Sister of the BloodWind, bring to ruin the one who ruined you."

The girl stood transfixed, unable to remove her gaze from the mesmerizing blade. At length, she took a hand and gripped the sword's haft, holding it up straight before her. She could feel a hot, tingling energy begin to race from the weapon up her arm until it consumed her body with heated, fiery radiance. Smiling with a new understanding of her future destiny, Ishtar lifted the blade high, her eyes looking skyward at its point.

"Kue Sautta Boonhii!" she cried out to the morning darkness, not knowing what the words meant, but feeling a rush of energy coursing through her body as she called them out to the sky.

A sudden eruption of blinding glory exploded from the blade, its thunderous sound deafening. When the girl regained her senses, there she stood in the empty darkness alone, with only the circle of golden dust providing any light. The sword, woman, and all the armies that stood on the plain were gone. A sudden gust of swirling wind caught up the golden dust, filling the air around the girl with its glow. A sweet, enchanting musical refrain sang out, a dreamy lullaby calling the child to gather to her rest. She slowly sank to the ground, lying in the center of golden light, quickly drifting off into a peaceful sleep, her head resting on a folded silken gown.

(Author's note _: 'Kue Sautta Boonhii' is translated in the common tongue as, 'So rises the morning darkness'. Though never fully revealed as to its true meaning, there are those who believe it sounded the beginning of the new Age of Darkness to fall upon the universe, it being similar to the term 'it is always darkest before the dawn'. This explanation is fitting, considering future events soon to be delivered upon that world._ )

* * *

Eurawha frowned as she sighed with relief at seeing Drorli's return. "The child is sleeping quietly again, but for some time, everything went amiss."

She looked up at the man as he tapped some gages to see if they might be broken or stuck. Although having never experienced any major mishaps with the reintegration of mind and body, it was something Drorli had often remarked there always being a first time. "Hmmm...the numbers are all over the place. Breathing and heart rate normal, but her blood pressure is off the chart and...and neuro-synapses are peaked at over one hundred. Still, the visual indicates a peaceful, deep sleep."

He looked back at Eurawha, asking, "How long have you been monitoring these kinds of readings?"

"The gages started acting up soon after you and the others left me." Eurawha tapped the screen in front of her. "This is nothing compared to what first happened. I thought the girl was waking a little sooner than planned, but not far out of line with what I've witnessed with some of the others. Only minutes later, the two waveform transponders and three attenuation monitors overloaded. I still can get no readings from the transponders and only sporadic readouts from the monitors. I've never seen the equipment break down this way before."

She puzzled, turning some dials, "Her visual and audio senses redlined for nearly an hour. Had she been in a medical trauma unit, I'd have believed she was having a major stroke, but I can find no physical damage that would indicate any problem whatsoever."

Looking back up at Drorli, concerned, Eurawha asked, "Should I put her back in a coma and return the girl to the lab so we can analyze this further?"

Drorli studied the gages and monitors for some time, checking and rechecking data while reviewing saved recordings of events. At length, he slowly shook his head. "No... no, I think we will leave things as they stand. We'll wait a while to see what happens. The child's spirit has long been returned to her. It's impossible to build for her another body without the likelihood of doing a great deal of emotional damage that might take months or even years to fully heal. Besides, there's nothing more we could do for her back at the laboratory that cannot be done here. We'll wait and see."

He then offered Eurawha a respite from her stressful labors. "Hanna and Simeon have gone to picnic in the fields beyond the road. Why don't you pay them a little visit? They've plenty of food taken along, as well as some of that good summer wine you favor. It'll refresh you to take a break. You're a faithful companion when it comes to assisting me, too faithful at times. Go relax a bit. I'll let you know if help's needed here."

Eurawha nodded, accepting Drorli's offer. As she gathered up a few things to take with her, she asked, "Do you want me to say anything to them? They'll ask, you know."

Drorli shook his head. "Let's keep it to ourselves. After all, it has been known that fingers sometimes dabble with these new arrivals, the same fingers that designed and built these machines in the first place. Better leave that go for now until we see where things take us. If they ask, tell them the girl's sleeping peacefully, and that sleep is a good thing."

Eurawha smiled, "That I can do." She then gave Drorli a tender kiss on the cheek and hurried out to find the others.

Drorli turned back to the viewing screen, watching Ishtar sleeping soundly. "What are you all about, little one? Why have the spirits waited until now to excite your heart with visions powerful and untold?" A shudder ran down his spine as he recalled reports from the earlier council meeting and the visions experienced there.

* * *

Leftenant Ilanit, a flight officer on loan to Chisamore from the Palace Guard Home Squadron just returning from patrol, picked up a weak distress signal from the carrier, and then the broadcast went dead. Realizing the possible gravity of the situation and need for assistance, the leftenant opened a general channel, requesting help from any ships in the vicinity. She then made haste for the ship's last known coordinates.

When Ilanit came within visual contact of Chisamore, the situation appeared more hopeless than she previously imagined. The ship drifted helplessly on the tides of space, slowly twirling about while caught in a constant roll to starboard. Even though it was classed as a carrier, Chisamore was little bigger than a modern, large battle cruiser. Being an older ship, built near the end of the age of the great dreadnaughts under peacetime conditions, Chisamore often patrolled alone, its inboard fighters and heavy search and destroy bombers being her only escorts.

There was little the leftenant could do until rescue arrived other than continue to send out her distress calls and listen for any possible replies. Finally, after almost ninety minutes, she received a weak signal from the cruiser, Brosh, that it was getting up steam, but it would still be two hours before it could rendezvous with Chisamore. Soon, three other ships were signaling their approach, two freighters and the heavy frigate, Gorsbee, but it would take another four hours before the first of them would arrive.

Until that time, Chisamore was on its own, its crew forced to fight for survival without additional support. Leftenant Ilanit slowly circled the crippled ship, waiting for help to arrive. Unable to restore communications with the ship's crew, she wondered if there was anyone remaining aboard alive to rescue. The woman's heart filled with remorse at the thought of such a potentially terrible loss of life, but there was nothing for it other than to rely upon those who might be able to deliver aid.

* * *

Gabrielle lay on the floor of her cabin, quietly moaning, still clutching her head in blinding agony. The pain was beginning to ease somewhat. No longer was she writhing on the floor, blood oozing from her eyes, ears, and nose. The bleeding had long stopped and her convulsive tremors eased enough to allow opportunity to consider what may have happened. Still unable to get up or call for assistance, the woman attempted to piece together events of the last hour.

She had been sitting cross-legged upon the tiny rug, searching the stars for Mihai's signature. So much she wanted to assist her little sister at this upcoming exchange. Although unable to be at her side in the flesh, she was attempting to reach Mihai's mind with her spirit in order to comfort an anxious heart. The powers of an Ancient are great, and few of the Ancients had them to greater degree than Gabrielle. Still, as with all of the powerful gifts given the children by Mother, they were designed when the universe was at peace, made without consideration for a possible future filled with violence and death. Such a gift like telepathic insight could become quite dangerous in this new, violent era, the gift having no protective safeguards against riotous malevolence.

Releasing her powers of insight into the open space of the universe was possibly foolhardy - something she would never do in known times of danger - but what danger existed at the moment? Far away were enemy fomenters of evil who were gathered together to see what mischief they could deliver at the upcoming prisoner exchange. All Gabrielle wished to do was offer a little reassurance to Mihai at this time. Now she lay on the floor of her cabin, crippled, unable to assist Mihai or anyone else for that matter.

Oh, how easy it had been to release her mind to the universe in order to gather in all the vibrant energy surrounding her! So long ago it seemed, she used to lose herself in the delights of doing this mind share with all living things. It was so sensual and invigorating to revel in the fields of wild energy created by an excited universe, an orgasmic, sexual intercourse for the mind and spirit at times more pleasurable than romancing with a man or woman.

In those distant, dreamy times, Gabrielle had honed her skills to the point of being able to reach out across seemingly endless space to share these erotic experiences with her lovers in faraway places. Rarely since the Rebellion had the woman dared release her mind to the night and for good reason, but tonight she willingly took the chance. There she sat, reaching out with all her mental powers, drawing in the hidden energy of the universe around her, when cries from hundreds of terrorized people caught in the struggle of life and death pummeled her.

The pain had been excruciatingly intense for both body and mind. How severe and lasting her injuries might be, Gabrielle could not yet tell, but she did know that weeks or even months would pass before they would heal to the full. Now there was little more she could do than comprehend what had happened and what future actions were called for.

In her mind, Gabrielle could see the layout of the fleet in the nearby quadrants or, it should be said, had seen up until a little bit ago. She knew that whatever the disaster might be, it originated with Chisamore. The ship's current patrol put it directly in line with her search for Mihai, thus its angle of energy when the calamity struck being most damaging to her mind. Little could be done now for Chisamore and its crew, and nothing for Mihai. At the moment, she was unable to summon the strength to call for her own assistance, let alone assist others. Rescue would have to find another path for them.

Gabrielle rolled onto her side, clutching her head, groaning, drawing her knees up and struggling to sit, hunched forward in a profuse sweat, swooning with a blinding headache. At length, the woman managed to pull herself up onto the edge of her bunk, waiting there until the nauseous migraine eased.

After what felt like an eternity, Gabrielle pushed herself from the bed and, using the wall for support, stumbled from her stateroom into the captain's cabin. Finding the commander's desk, she fell into the chair and rested her head before calling the officer's bridge. When her senses were well enough revived, she requested a status report.

"Systems are fine, Admiral." the acting bridge officer calmly answered. "Signal officer and weather deck report open skies and all is well."

Gabrielle thanked her for her report.

The bridge officer went on to state, "Captain Dunamis has gone forward to hangar bay two to await the arrival of Commodore SarahSands who has just arrived on the packet, Senegal. She is preparing to transfer over to RavensRook on the tender, Cortney. The commodore should be aboard in about thirty minutes. Do you have any orders?"

Gabrielle thanked the attending bridge officer and then replied, "Yes, please request Cortney to stand by to receive me. Send my luggage to the tender and make request of my staff to meet me there for departure at four hundred hours. Please inform Senegal of my plans, for I will want to be under way as soon as may be after getting aboard. Also, please send the ship's surgeon to my cabin, for I'm in need of his assistance."

The bridge officer hesitated at hearing the Admiral's last request, but quickly obeyed. "As you wish, Admiral."

Gabrielle shut off the intercom and sighed as she rested her head in her hands, her elbows on the table. The faint throb of RavensRook's powerful engines soothed the admiral's spirit. A quiet pulsing that sent the slightest of rhythmic tremors through the ship felt so reassuring, telling her that all was well aboard and that, much to her relief, some of her senses were gradually returning.

Gabrielle began to ponder what must be done regarding the latest disaster. It might be hours before the fleet would hear report about Chisamore. She would make sure to reveal this matter to the bridge before then, but not until after seeing the surgeon. After all, there was little else that could be done other than shift some of the Fourth Fleet east to cover Eden's Gate. They needed to keep a strong carrier presence there, just in case.

The woman fussed, shaking her head, "Eden's Gate, that Hell hole..." wincing as her headache surged anew. It was a terrible place to defend, no safe ports within two weeks' hard running. How many thousands had already paid the supreme price for holding that portal? How many more must do so? 'The portal has to be held at all cost.' That was the consensus of the council after retaking it during the Persian Debacle, and that is how it was to remain. That gate must be held no matter the loss to ships or crews.

Ah well, there would be a new armada soon gathered to protect that quadrant. Gabrielle was personally making preparations to accomplish it. It was the reason the newly appointed commodore, SarahSands, was replacing her aboard RavensRook. She was a capable officer to take charge of this Stargaton Fleet, the battle group being the largest in the quadrant. The admiral was pleased that Command had approved her recommendation for the woman to receive that post.

Gabrielle smiled. Sarah was not only a close companion, but was an excellent strategist and brave fighter. She and Sarah went back to the Aphrodite Wars, the woman showing her mettle throughout those long conflicts and far beyond. During the Great War, Sarah served as first officer to then commodore, CythereaNoah'ha, remaining in the Navy from that time until now. Yes, she was an excellent officer and a good commander. She would do well leading the Stargaton Battle Group.

Gabrielle's smile quickly faded. Rumors echoed within the military that the children's new king and new field marshal were not bonding well. It was believed by some that Mihai was jealous because one of her closer companions had not received the commission, Planetee being one of the names bandied about. Others thought her surrender of power for the acceptance of a 'looks impressive but has no real authority' crown affected her, especially since the new field marshal was quickly making her strong presence felt by the many changes she was forcing upon the old Army, giving little consideration to the established way.

At the moment, the Navy was still placed under the command of the field marshal, but Gabrielle was aware that winds of change were coming soon. Mother desired to maintain the current arrangement until after the prisoner exchange, not wishing to add to the turmoil. War was soon coming - war fought on a scale unknown in this world before, with battles that would make the Day of Tears look like a skirmish. The present structure of the military would be incapable of handling its coming responsibilities successfully.

Gabrielle frowned, pondering, thinking to herself. Mihai sat the throne as supreme commander, king over all the realm of the Children's Empire, but it was an empty title. Right now Trisha had greater power, thus being the real authority in the kingdom. To create a cohesive fighting machine, the field marshal's position of power needed to diminish, at least in the eyes of the people, so that Mihai's kingly glory could not be questioned. Why Mother chose not to do this before the prisoner exchange puzzled the admiral, but Mother had her reasons, and when she was ready to reveal them she would, and not until.

Well, that really was of no concern to the admiral. Mother did as Mother wished to do. Yes, Mother had sought Gabrielle's opinion, but she felt it was more of a respectful formality from Mother than her seeking any real input. Long had it been since she was searched out by Mother other than to surrender up a little comfort in troubling times.

It was probably for good reason Mother acted this way. She had a game on and was playing it close, leaving little room for deviating from her grand plan. Something was up with the prisoner exchange. What it was, Gabrielle was unsure, but it was going to be big. The woman's heart jumped with a secret desire to be there for it.

A sudden rap on the door interrupted the moment. After being hailed, an orderly stepped in, hurriedly handing Admiral Gabrielle a decoded script. "Short notice..." the admiral said, bemused. Looking up at the orderly after reading it, she asked, "Has Captain Dunamis been notified yet?"

The orderly confirmed, "Yes, I personally informed him before coming here, believing it would expedite the time the captain would need to prepare for his departure. With your permission, the communications officer will notify RavensRook to stand down until the next window, about six hours hence, Captain Dunamis feeling it prudent under these circumstances. It will give him needed time to brief his first officer on the operations of the ship before his leaving."

Gabrielle smiled approvingly. "First Officer BuetraSega will do well on the bridge in Captain Dunamis' absence. I will leave it in the hands of the new commander, Commodore SarahSands, to decide who should replace Dunamis as captain of this ship." It pleased her to have had the new king and her council approve the recommendation to have Captain Dunamis promoted to commodore over the newly commissioned royal fleet, commonly called the 'King's Fleet'. He would personally take command aboard its new flagship, soon to come off the ways, the royal fighting barge, RananAhot. A heavily armed transport of imperial cutter class, it was designed for dignitaries on their long, official sojourns. Complete with spacious wardrooms and large cabins, it was a luxurious ship of state built upon a heavy fighting platform. With its supporting escorts, it would be a formidable foe in a heated contest should the enemy attempt its capture.

Before dismissing the orderly, Admiral Gabrielle made arrangements for the commodore to be provided with a tour of the ship and to be properly introduced to the officers on board. "Captain Dunamis will be quite busy, and I have some special needs to be tended to before greeting my friend. Please send my apologies for my failure to be there to meet her. Have the attendants deliver her luggage to my apartment and tell them to remove mine to Senegal."

Gabrielle stood, her migraine lashing out in blinding pain and nauseous upset as she did. Wincing from the sudden discomfort, she waited to speak until the headache eased. "Would you invite the commodore to dine with me, here, at nineteen hundred hours, and also inform the mess regarding my needs? I have some private business to conclude with the commodore and wish not to be disturbed. Please arrange to have someone stationed at my door to see that is so."

The orderly promised she would do as requested. Gabrielle thanked her and turned toward her apartment as the orderly departed. Opening a valise that sat beside some of her luggage on the bed, she pulled out a small bottle of tiny pills. Removing a half dozen of them, she swept them up into her mouth, downing them with a sip of water. Scooping up a hankie, she turned and sat on the bed, pondering the day's events.

She smiled as her sick headache began to fade. Dunamis was a fine choice for royal fleet commodore. He was a good man, tough and resolute. His stellar service to the Empire was renowned, many of those years spent walking the bridges of their great, mighty dreadnaughts. The man was well-disciplined, calm under fire, but aggressive when the battle turned to his advantage. The fellow was also good-natured and patient, often necessary qualities when tending to the wants of overly spoilt diplomats who had little knowledge of real war. Mihai also knew and liked the man, and he liked her - a good thing. She could be quite a pain when her dander was up. Yes, Dunamis was a good choice.

Putting the hankie to her nose, Gabrielle wiped away a drop of blood. Looking down at the crimson stain soaking into the cloth, the woman calmly shrugged. The strictnoisun always did this to her, but it did ease the pain. Tomorrow she would wake to a bleeding bowel and swollen, tender abdomen, but a clear mind. She thought it worth the cost. For several years now this is how the woman had been coping with her growing cancer. The healing machines could only stay the sickness, hold it in check. If a cure were not found, her body would eventually be consumed by it. She shrugged again. Would death really be so bad? So many had already preceded her there. What was one more name added to the list of those resting in the Silent Tombs?

Shaking her head to clear her mind of its self-pity, Gabrielle attempted to contemplate the day's earlier events - events that carried the ring of long-forgotten times left unheeded by the excitement of the moment - events that should not have been so lightly dismissed. Again she pushed those feelings aside, instead returning to earlier hours.

She strummed her fingers on the bed as she thought, rolling her eyes upward toward the ceiling. Her favorite child, Mihai, was or soon would be engaged in deliberations at the prisoner exchange. Would Mihai heed the wisdom of Mother and give free rein to her new field marshal to conduct business, seeing it was customary for the second in command at such proceedings to be the spokesperson, conferring privately at times with the one in charge? Gabrielle doubted it, knowing the unwarranted animosity Mihai felt toward Trisha.

No. Gabrielle sadly shook her head. The child might well forge onward recklessly, thinking she, alone, had the leadership qualities needed to make such a rescue of her beloved, imprisoned comrades. Now, without even the slightest of Gabrielle's mental gifts to guide her, the girl might well dive into a hopeless morass of political intrigue that could do no one any good. Indeed, it might get many killed! This was too much to think about. It hurt the woman's head. She tried to focus on other matters.

'Let's see...' Soon she would depart to take command of the super-class carrier, Sophia, a wonderful ship, largest of the new class of dreadnaughts, grandest ship to ever come off the Navy's ways. Pity its construction was so far behind schedule...should have come on line months ago.

Gabrielle's mind drifted back to the moment. An entire fleet of tenders was held out of service, waiting the arrival of Sophia. Had she been delivered on time, Chisamore could have been kept in port, or better yet, sent off to the scrap yard instead of being forced to do another patrol out in those forsaken reaches of empty space. Because Sophia wasn't ready on time, the old rattrap, Chisamore, was forced out on patrol where its horrific demise would devastate any chances of assisting Mihai at the prisoner exchange.

Gabrielle clenched her fists and cried out, "Because of this I can't help her! Why, oh, why did this have to happen now, today?"

The woman froze, her eyes fixed in a blank stare, her heart racing with memories that she struggled to recall. Finally, a cloudy vision of a time in the distant past filled the woman's mind. There, on a night long ago, during an age filled with demons and deception, she leaned over a dying charge, her quivering lips lamenting, "Why? Why did the engines have to fail? Why today?"

Gabrielle's eyes filled with tears of angry frustration, seething, "Damn him! Damn his worthless skin! Should 'a killed him when I had the chance, before Mother begged me to let him live." Gabrielle's headache returned with a vengeance as her mind raced with recollections of another day long ago that also led to calamity and the near death of so many of Mother's loyal children. Visions of that distant time raced in upon her so that their images were as if only now happening.

She moaned in pain, clutching her head, living again that regrettable moment as she kneeled over Darla's broken body. 'My little darling sister, I am so, so, sorry! But how does one contest against the Fates and win?'

Their ship's engine overheated, nearly imploding because the main cooling system malfunctioned. All that had saved them from sure disaster was that the main drive servos had depended on the same cooling, thus shutting them down and warning the crew of the impending engine failure. Although the souls on board the ship had been saved, poor Darla suffered so because of their forced tardiness.

Sadly shaking her head, Gabrielle believed the same or similar thing happened to Chisamore. Except this time Chisamore and its crew were not so fortunate. The situation for it and those aboard was catastrophic at the moment but with her own senses so impaired, the admiral could not tell how great the damage might be or even if there were any survivors.

Groaning in dismay, Gabrielle closed her eyes in pain. It would be many long hours before the earliest of communications would reach RavensRook, even with the new and still secret konic-chiiton audio signal machines. It was doubtful any ships in that quadrant were yet equipped with such transmitters, the technology only recently being developed and reserved for frontline fleet carriers and major escorts. By the time news of Chisamore's fate reached them, Gabrielle would surely be aboard Senegal en route to EdenEsonbar.

It was later discovered that a trusted officer and close confidant-turned-traitor had sabotaged the armed bilander Gabrielle and Mihai's team were using to reach Darla in hopes of capturing the ship and crew when it became disabled, unaware of their mission. Gabrielle's bilander did not remain disabled long enough to fall victim to the waiting enemy, and the officer fled long before sabotage was suspected. What with all the following excitement and confusion, there was no in-depth investigation, the common belief being the saboteur was a disgruntled, lone wolf seeking revenge for some imagined indignity.

Over those many years since, there had been several other incidents that followed similar blueprints, but no one connected the dots to consider there might be a mastermind behind a carefully crafted plot to cripple the leadership in the Children's Empire. Now Gabrielle was beginning to see the pieces of the puzzle swirl together in her mind. As those pieces fell in place, the woman's understanding of current events crystallized before her eyes.

It was not about Chisamore other than it being a convenient weapon to be used against Gabrielle. Only a person of high rank or authority or a trusted someone having serious connections in the government would be privy to the kind of support Gabrielle often gave to Mihai at critical times and have access to ships' patrol routes and current locations. Then there would have been the necessity to place a saboteur aboard the ship. A saboteur - like at other times - also most likely perished in the same conflagration he or she created.

Gabrielle quietly fumed. Once again, the enemy had taken advantage of their innocent naivety. No, it was their stubborn, arrogant unwillingness to accept the hypnotic power and evil cunning of their eldest sibling, how old feelings of fealty and devotion did not necessarily die, but would lie hidden beneath the surface, awaiting the siren's call to be reawakened, and that there long existed one or more of those sirens nestled deep within the bosom of Children's Empire.

The timepiece on the wall struck its chimes, signaling the hour. Gabrielle looked up, painfully squinting through aching eyes. Few were the fleeting moments until her departure, with many details to be addressed before doing so. She also wanted to entertain Commodore Sands in a bit, an important formality enlisted by the Navy when welcoming new officers aboard. Later, after a private conference in her office, she and the commodore would exchange receivership of RavensRook before the officers and crew, Gabrielle officially standing down the fleet to the new commander while also announcing that First officer BuetraSega would be captaining the ship.

A knock came on the admiral's door. In a moment, the ship's surgeon stood in front of Gabrielle's command desk.

Standing, Gabrielle addressed the surgeon with her request. "The hour is late and I have so little time to finish my duties here, but first I have great need of a soothing, harmonic recharge. Would you be so kind to set up the sonic room for me, and also assist my wobbly legs to get there? I have but an hour," she sighed, "oh, but a wonderful hour in that chamber!"

The surgeon smiled, tipping his cap as he bowed ever so slightly. "It will be my pleasure, my Lord."

With that, Gabrielle and the surgeon, he knowing all too well the admiral's condition, arm in arm, departed the stateroom and sauntered quietly toward the staging deck's sonic chamber.

As they walked down the corridor toward the sonic room, Gabrielle asked the surgeon, "Major Shoogn, you know me so well. Can I trust that you'd be willing to accompany me to my new assignment?"

Major Shoogn smiled, "It would be my pleasure."

* * *

A half-mile from the waiting assemblage, the entourage dismounted, all except for Lowenah. Enclosed wagons filled with barter goods and prisoners divided Lowenah's and Mihai's parties, the horses laboriously advancing the giant-wheeled contrivances through the powdery sand. Several grenadiers stayed behind with the mounts, prepared to bring them forward at a moment's notice if required. The remainder of the soldiers, many of them shrouded in long, gray cloaks, accompanied the others on foot. This secretiveness troubled Mihai, but right now she had other more pressing matters to contend with.

To the right and slightly arrear of the front wagon were PalaHar and Tizrela, Lowenah's standard bearers, holding her royal banners high, followed closely by Darla in all her naked finery, leading Lowenah's horse by its reins. Ardon was to her right, staying a little behind, close enough to step in to save the day if need be. Following along in back of them were another dozen or so of Lowenah's court officials dressed in royal finery of Lowenah's choosing. Lowenah had no soldiers or armed guards accompanying her...didn't want them...didn't need them.

On Lowenah's left, Mihai, with Trisha at her right, strode out in front, just ahead of the lead wagon. Just behind them walked Planetee and Anna, the gentle giant, Eutychus, closely following. Further off to Mihai's left walked Paul, Jonathan and Jebbson. The remainder of Mihai's party followed them.

In the best of times, the air quality on EremiaPikros was poor. Photosynthesis was of marginal quality, the broad expanses of green lichens near the planet's poles producing most of the atmosphere's oxygen, its few seas so salty that life there existed at a minimum. Too, the planet's very low barometric pressure equal to EdenEsonbar's at about eight thousand feet elevation, made breathing difficult. Along with this were the almost constant daytime winds that whipped up the red, talc-like dust, clinging to the skin while irritating lungs, eyes, and ears.

Then there was the high summer sun beating down mercilessly upon friend and foe, the difference being that Mihai's people were struggling across burning sands that slipped away beneath a heavy footfall, their trek slow and arduous at best. Yet on this day, the thin air, choking dust and burning sand were the least of Mihai's concerns. There were far more troubling things pressing her mind.

Chrusion's demand that Lowenah remain out of official proceedings placed upon Mihai all responsibilities for executing a successful exchange and release of the hostages. This was unprecedented. Although Mihai was used to officiating at past exchanges, Lowenah always stood at the ready to step in should things turn unpleasant. Now Mother was to remain only an observer to whatever mischief the enemy might attempt. Mother had accepted Chrusion's terms, staying out of things unless he requested it, and Mother would stay true to her word.

That, in and of itself, was bad enough, but now Mihai also faced this most treacherous opponent with an untested, ignorant, lost child from nowhere to act as herald during these negotiations, she, Mihai, standing silent, waiting for only private consultation with her. Oh, how she missed her close companion and confidant, Gabrielle! It was that woman who acted as her herald during the past two millennia, standing as archon during the ages before then. Now there was only this urchin from forgotten times and places to negotiate the freedom of her people. Why had Mother made such a foolish decision to have this miserable creature here in the first place?

The company drew closer to the opposing enemy line. Faces gradually became recognizable, while other details began to stand out in a person's vision. With each forward step, Mihai's anxiety increased, her heart beating faster while a nervous ache grew in her chest. ' _Kala-boom! Kala-boom! Kala-boom!_ ' The sound of coursing blood crashed upon Mihai's ears, _'Kala-boom! Kala-boom! Kala-boom!_ '...the pulsing rush pummeling the woman's head with aggravating pain.

Forcing her attention away from inner trepidations, Mihai focused on the moment. In only minutes, she would be standing before the lord of the League of Brothers, her greatest antagonist and adversary. This was no time to allow one's thoughts to wander. Asotos, also known by the name 'Chrusion', was addressed only as 'Adelphos' - meaning 'brother' by members of the Children's Empire when in his company. He was a very dangerous foe, one who would leave nothing to chance. Mihai must study her surroundings carefully, discounting nothing. But first she must show that she is commander in charge.

Motioning with her hand, Mihai shifted toward the right, lining up on Chrusion and his chief lieutenants, the entire company gradually drifting in the same direction. This move pushed Lowenah's entourage further to the right, which would eventually place the wagon train between them and Chrusion's line of sight, Lowenah silently smiling in satisfaction.

As this move was being executed, Mihai focused her attention on Asotos. What she observed only increased her anxiety. Asotos had delivered a rather large armada of thinly disguised fighting ships, painted and fitted to appear as little more than lightly armed transports. While it was true that few dared deep space travel with unarmed ships in this day and age, other say than the odd collier out of Desiah, a fast packet sloop, or a small Wildcatter merchantman, it was accepted protocol for ships of war to be orbiting at some distant location, or to be landed several leagues away on the planet's surface with engines cold when attending diplomatic events such as a prisoner exchange.

Mihai grew increasingly nervous as her eyes scanned the disproportionate opposing number of gaily-attired military officials and honor guard clad in burnished armor. It was not their attire that concerned Mihai as much as the numbers. It was a common practice for the honor guard to be little more than dandy-dressed soldiers. Both sides practiced it. It was part of their 'insurance policy' that promised matters would remain civil and protocols followed. The number of soldiers Asotos had this day was troublingly large, possibly four score, and the two nearby transports might hide dozens more in reserve.

A feeling of silent regret swept Mihai's heart - regret for disregarding the counsel of several lieutenants to bring a larger number of soldiers with her. The woman had not been able to wrap her mind around the possibility that this upcoming exchange might be anything more than just that, an exchange of prisoners. She could only chastise herself now when considering the many warning signs presented earlier. She also knew that the time appointed for this exchange was the anniversary of her attack outside Palace City walls so long ago - a fact she had vehemently disregarded, but that now was returning to her with a haunting.

Oh how her yearning grew for the one companion she could trust at all times! Gabrielle did not walk beside her this day, and there was no offering of inner peace that so often came to her when the two women were separated. Alone she was with an untested, belligerent, self-aggrandizing herald, while she, the experienced negotiator of several prisoner exchanges, was expected to stand quietly by as this... this naive fool bumbled them all into catastrophe. Just one mistake or misstep and all hope might be lost and... and her little sister a hapless victim of a needless fiasco.

Mihai's attention was turned to her current dilemma. The fated moment drew nearer, little time remaining for the execution of a successful solution to rid them of this threat - this Trisha creature bringing to ruin any hope to save the ones she loved. Why, oh why did Mother pick this urchin of lost days to become the new field marshal? Mother did like wine and strong drink and at times allowed herself to fall under their hypnotic wiles. Could she have been celebrating a little before appointing it to that most important position, at such a critical time and moment?

Mihai's head ached with growing apprehension as doubt and uncertainty flooded her mind. Everyone... all those around her were blind to the intentions of this beast walking beside her. Who could she trust? With her own wits was this contest to be won. She must change the battle plan, must move swiftly to remove the threat that would bring ruination to them all. In her determined concentration to find a solution to the dilemma, she ignored the whispering snigger sounding in the back of her head.

Glancing around, Mihai caught sight of Planetee, breathing a quiet sigh of relief to see her loyal companion so close. She could trust Planetee, did trust her. This very morning, after the confrontation with that creature, she had confided her concerns to Planetee, the woman promising to come to Mihai's aid should the need arise. Planetee, positioning herself at little more than at arm's length behind that arrogant thing, helped ease Mihai's troubled mind.

Anna walked close beside and slightly behind on Mihai's right. She could be depended on to give her unwavering support to her new king. The woman had always been close to Mihai, especially since the Rebellion when she risked her own life to sound the alarm at seeing Asotos' attack on her little sister. On so many lonely nights, she comforted Mihai's soul with love's warm embrace, singing sweet, enchanting songs far into the chill of morning. Mihai nearly swooned, remembering last eve's witching hours spent in the arms of this most loving sister.

Mihai gave little heed to others nearby, save Eutychus and that Garlock fellow. Eutychus followed Planetee, a little to her side. He was a gentle giant, his helpful assistance greatly appreciated. He and Planetee had been nearly inseparable these last several days, the man doting on her, seeing to even her smallest desires. Mihai smiled to think she had such a stalwart ally with her this day.

Mihai glanced Jebbson's way. The man walked...swaggered some eight paces to her left, appearing more like a dandy-dressed, Wildcatter frigate captain than a well-groomed officer of the court. Jebbson was an anomaly, to say the least. Brilliant scientist, musician, a man able to wax poetic with the deepest heartfelt emotion, passionately caring one moment while becoming ruthlessly remorseless the next, this Garlock was predictably unpredictable.

Jebbson loyal? Yes, in the absolute, but a loyalty to the cause that was measured upon his scales of fealty. When she had once asked him about his view of the Children's current policy when dealing with the enemy, Jebbson's answer had been both cryptic and chilling. 'I balance all, I balance one. The chips fall where they may when I am done.'

Mihai frowned. Where was this man's loyalty? He had struck up a warm relationship with Planetee over the past few days, casual but warm, nonetheless. He had also been seen in the field marshal's company on several occasions.

The man's outward confidence betrayed hidden knowledge, but of what? Had Planetee confided in him the events of this preceding morn? Was he now taken in as their ally? Or, Mihai shuddered, had this man planned some secret mischief of his own? She would not put it past him, but dared not ponder such a possibility at the moment.

But that did bother her a bit because not many days ago when Mihai was reviewing the manifest requesting certain heavy ordnance that Jebbson wanted to be taken on this sojourn, the man had rather tersely replied to her questions, 'Peaceful negotiation is successful only amongst friends and allies. Enemies only use it to advance their position of power. Power is all your brother understands and respects. You fear his reprisal by showing strength and might. I fear it because you show your weakness.'

It had been a stinging rebuff for Mihai, especially after having gotten used to all the ongoing adoration and respect she was receiving since taking the crown, but that was Jebbson's way...the way he was raised in the land he grew up in. 'All men and gods are created equal,' he had been heard to say on more than one occasion, 'a God-given right!'

Still, Garlock was loyal to the Children's Empire and to its cause, and he respected Mihai to a fault. Besides, it was Mother who gave Mihai the crown. Jebbson would do nothing offensive against Mother. Smiling, Mihai sighed. Jebbson was safe. Whatever he was up to would bring no harm to Mother and her purpose. Mihai was Mother's king, her weapon to bring success this day. Jebbson was not a person of concern.

At that instant, Trisha stepped into a sand hole, stumbling, grasping Mihai's arm to prevent a fall. Mihai cursed under her breath as she shook herself free of Trisha's hold, "Pity you didn't find the bottom of the pit." Mihai hissed, "Urchins of despair and foolish chatterers have no place at such a grand council! Go away while time still shines its favor on you..."

Regaining her balance, Trisha looked up into Mihai's face, her orbs hiding any emotion. "My Lord..." she replied as she again took up station beside her king.

Lowenah sadly shook her head as she listened to her child's caustic rebuff of Trisha. "Mere oppression alone can make the wise sage act like a crazy one. Oh my, oh my," Lowenah muttered under her breath.

Saddened she was, but not surprised. Indeed, Mihai's actions this day were expected by Lowenah, anticipated. She was depending on them. After all, a major part of Lowenah's little surprise for her rebellious son hinged on the crazy actions of her daughter-child. Not that she desired to see her child suffer such torment but, since it was going to happen anyway, why not take advantage of it, especially if it might save a few lives while bringing humiliation to those so deserving?

She turned her gaze to Darla, another part of her little surprise prepared for her rebellious child this day. Oh, how beautiful the woman looked, all dressed up in the alluring raiment of a long-forgotten Canaanite temple dancer! 'Schiel'ahh'... Yes, that was the dancer's name. Lowenah nodded, closing her eyes. Schiel'ahh, 'heaven's gift', was the name bestowed upon this girl by an appreciative father who had cried out in his prayers to this strange Hebrew God to grant him a gift of but one child in his old age, for no children did he have.

To the elderly man, Lowenah listened, finding more faith in him than in any of those living at that time professing her name. A girl, divinely beautiful, was born to him - a girl who looked very much like the woman leading Lowenah's horse this day. Whether it had been by subconscious design or by accident, Lowenah was not sure, but truth be said, Darla, with her deeply tanned skin, and Schiel'ahh could have been mistaken for twins of sorts.

Lowenah frowned, sad. Her rebellious son soon discovered the child and stole the maiden away from her father and mother to train the girl up in all the ways of the Canaanite religious order, forcing her to prostitute her flesh for the well-being of the temple priests, he, all the while, attempting a coup against nature's laws so as to bring the girl's flesh into his world for his sole, prurient pleasure. As he searched for success, Asotos would take possession of the men paying to have intercourse with Schiel'ahh so that he might in some way feel the love he so passionately desired.

At length, in the course of time, Lowenah tired of Asotos' evil, delivering a sword of retribution against the people of that city, burning it with fire while snuffing out the lives of its inhabitants including Schiel'ahh, thus freeing the girl from the constant rape and torture she so long endured. Asotos swore an oath of eternal vengeance against the people who carried out the deed, his inflamed hatred for them not subsiding down to that very hour. That was so many millennia ago now.

Would her son remember? 'Yes,' Lowenah sadly sighed. Yes he would, never forgetting any slight or insult, real or imagined, and the girl's destruction was personal to him, but not only for that reason alone.

Darla was dressed the part of Schiel'ahh, attired as the girl so often was when dancing in the temple, right down to her hair style, painted lips, eyes and face, even the tattoo of a pentagram and runes upon her forehead which read when translated into the language of the Canaanites, 'Prince of Light'. Still that was not all.

Darla's breasts were round, firm and full. When unbridled, they roamed free, rebelling against the body, seeking their own careless direction of desired escape. Few were the daughters of Lowenah who had the grace to rein in such wild mares prancing about, and Darla was never known for any such harmonic prowess. Even should the man find disgust in the beauty of a woman, his heart would be forced to notice the hypnotic song that Darla's breasts played as she struggled to keep her balance in this tricksy sand. Then, just in case this was not enough distraction, Lowenah pressed into service the very winds to force a coup against her rebellious son.

Darla was fond of piercing her flesh, from head to toe, for the pleasure of appearance or for the delight of the sensual - either or both. So it was that intricate, bejeweled ornaments were often found dangling from the woman's nipples. The girl could not see the effect such baubles had on her brothers, so few men daring the girl's sickness to reveal their lust for her. But Mother noticed - noticed how the animal would cry out for satisfaction while the human pulled its glance away, forcing its growing passion down. It was the animal, the untamed wild beast lurking in every man's heart that Mother was in search of this day, and she possessed the weapon able to capture it.

Today Lowenah had endowed her child with a wondrous present of myriads of tinkling bells hanging upon one long, golden chain fastened to the nipples of her little Rachel's bouncing spheres, their music already having created so much commotion at this morning's breakfast. Their ever sensual refrains, heard by the heart but not the ear, could drive any man to distraction. But should the melodious rhapsody be tuned specifically to some certain man's heart? Ah, then there would be no hope for him to hold his concentration against it.

Lowenah glanced around and then looked back at Darla, smiling sadly, "So many crows, so many crows..." mumbling to herself, "all of them dressed in their finery of silks and burnished armor, each seeking to impress upon the other his or her importance, to show just how seriously they view this event. Foolish children! Oh, how little they realize their true purpose for circling the carcass is not to consume the disease and rot, but to selfishly satisfy a hungry belly...to be venerated and respected by their fellow man. The crow revels in its self-glory."

While looking at Darla, she thought of Trisha, Jebbson and a few of the other, more troublesome children hidden in the crowd, smiling. "There do reside the eagles among us. 'Damn the earth and sky!' they cry out to all living flesh. 'We care not for counsel or for petty rules of law. We take what we will, when we wish, and how we want! Should all the world be ruined if it stands in our way! We bide no creed nor stand any oath, for we are the Children of the BloodWind, rulers over Heaven, Men, and Hell!'" Lowenah remembered well those words spoken so many ages ago in a world grim and pitiless, during a time filled with hopeless despair.

Darla slipped in the sand, all the tiny bells jangling violently. Lowenah felt it, smiling. She could tell by the very harmonics that all the others around felt it, affecting them ever so slightly. She looked far ahead at the nattily dressed officer, the prince of his people. Yes...yes, he had felt it, too, his face clouding with uncertainty.

Thinking how Darla must look the clown in this ocean of finely attired dignitaries, Lowenah laughed to herself, 'Fools! The clown's appearance hides the talons of a fighting eagle that will soon rip apart this people's little world. And down the Great Dragon will be hurled! This day my eagles shall tear him from his throne and cast all that is his into the Dark Abyss. The hooks are already in my hand. Now for my darling eagles to set them...'

The party was drawing close now, less than thirty rods separating the opposing forces. Mihai's heart began to ache as she closely studied the leaders standing out in front of the others. Most prominent among them was Asotos...Chrusion! She must remember to use 'Chrusion' when addressing him...no, use 'Adelphos'- 'brother' - 'Adelphos'. There he stood, a true leader among men, tall, majestic and powerful, filled with confidence, a leader to be so adored.

Mihai silently cursed, frowning. Why must her heart fawn so over this beast, he the very man who destroyed her, her world, and oh, oh so many other beautiful things? To him, her heart beckoned, for him to hold her and make the darkness go away. Why, oh why did she have to feel this way, at this very time, this very moment?

With each advancing step, Mihai found her body shrinking before the looming giant awaiting her presence. Chrusion...Adelphos...grew in his imposing stature, brimming with dignity and self-confidence.

Beads of sweat broke out on Mihai's forehead, her growing despair driving all hope from the woman's heart. She silently cried out to her mother, 'I cannot do this thing alone, Ma-we! Oh Ma-we, do give me strength, or your little child will fade away into nothingness!'

Trisha stumbled again, as if being pushed, slamming hard into Mihai's side.

"Bitch! Stupid little bitch worm!" Mihai angrily snarled into Trisha's ear. "Go back to forgotten places and leave this world to itself! Be off with you, maggot!"

Trisha's heart was breaking as with the pain of a mother losing her child in birth, but she said not a word. If death and humiliation were the weapons needed to win this day, then so be it.

' _Red may the field of honor become_

Before the sun sets upon the victory won.

And the heroes forcing that battle line

Live not to drink the victory wine.'

So Trisha would weather the storm to deliver victory from certain defeat, no matter the cost or the shame endured to attain it.

Asotos smiled. Although no word had yet reached him concerning the fate of Chisamore and the resulting troubling effects on Gabrielle, the harmonics of the universe delivered its sweet discord to his ears. 'No help from that witch for her little darling this day.' he mused with quiet laughter. 'How hopeless it must be to stand the field alone when the heart ever wavers in fear and doubt.'

At that moment, Asotos saw the person walking next to Mihai stumble into her side. Mihai's body language, even from that distance, declared oh so much. The man laughed out loud. He turned to Legion, who stood his side, pointing while speaking in little above a whisper, "Right on the edge she is, ready to trip the cuckoo bird, and whoever it is standing her side is not her favorite this day. All the better for it..." Legion laughed, agreeing.

The satisfaction of seeing the battle already won filled Asotos' heart with gleeful joy. Patiently he had waited for these many years. The signing of the Treaty of Memphis, ending the Great War, giving an appearance that the League of Brothers accepted defeat was little more than a ploy, buying Asotos time to develop his greatest of battle strategies. Today he would execute his 'Coup de theos kenos' ( _lit._ 'To throw down the vain [false] god into emptiness'). Before the sun set upon EdenEsonbar, his ships would be en route to that city, he preparing for the upcoming grand coronation of its new and rightful king. Erithia would be long gone from this universe, hoping that her departure would somehow save her little, darling daughter. Asotos laughed again.

Yes, for years this man had labored tirelessly to deliver up the Fates to this very hour. This grandiose campaign he had personally seen to. No one more capable to do the job was there than he, so he must be the one to do the job. Asotos smiled. From the remotest detail to the greatest of panoramas he, himself, had directed with the laborious finesse of an accomplished conductor orchestrating the finest of musical symphonies. Nothing would fail him this day, for he had been the creator of coming events!

A frown suddenly swept Asotos' face, carrying with it the tiniest wisp of uncertainty. He knew that Erithia and her rabble had a moot, strategizing for this coming day, they unable to do anything without discussion and debate. He had made arrangements to have delivered to him any important information revealed there. Having been so absorbed in the final details of this mission, he had given little consideration to the matter until now as he examined the approaching host.

Who stood Michael's side as herald? Although it mattered little in his grand scheme, it should have not been left to him as a surprise. Maybe there were other minor points he should have been informed of. Someone had acted carelessly, or maybe there was treason afoot.

Asotos eyes scanned the crowd. Yes! Yes, there was the culprit who failed in a most important mission. The man's anger grew as he pondered the possibility of betrayal. This he would not, could not, permit to go un-addressed, no breach of trust tolerated! Such an infraction was never too tiny to be ignored...forgotten.

A sudden change of wind direction sent clouds of red, chalky dust toward Asotos' company. Soon silt-laden clouds of crimson filth drifted in upon the assembly, delivering irritation to eyes and throat. For Asotos there also arrived, wafting upon the breeze, a panoply of odors and scents revealing secrets the eyes could not yet discern.

The sweat of the horses and teamsters rose pungent in Asotos' nostrils, but their power could not hide the more subtle nuances drifting in upon his senses. Several of the men \- Ardon and PalaHar included - he could easily identify. He paid no heed to unknown male redolence, having not gathered many individual signatures to his mind. On the other hand, Planetee, Anna, Michael and all the other women carried specific scents long recorded in his memory...all that is except of Erithia, which came as no surprise, her witchery covering every part of her nature, and at least two other women, their scents both strange and troubling to him.

Lifting his head to gather more of the breeze, Asotos attempted to identify the source of those scents. Studying the nearing throng, he eyed the woman walking beside Michael, the same person she had recently contended with. Her gait was peculiar, a swagger of certainty and... and independent defiance, an uncommon trait for most of the women in this world. Lifting a hand to shade his eyes from the sunlight, he searched in vain to see the woman's face.

Who might this stranger be? Suddenly it occurred to Asotos that this approaching officer must be the little child who troubled him so with her constant baby jabber and snooping, the little brat always under foot and getting in the way. She had been a total pest, Sirion even allowing the child entry to their bed during the late night hours. It might just be her all grown up. He smiled at the thought of the hunt anew, the capture of a young doe through beguiling prose, a game long ago abandoned, but so enjoyed with the charming, innocent babes - his personal little toys Erithia used to deliver to him.

His smile fled when the man's nostrils caught a wisp of a second, unknown scent. Who would that person be? Was it only the witch's trickery creating it? Possibly... He strained to see off in Erithia's direction, but the clouds of dust hid from him any definitive sight. Only hazy shapes of the advancing crowd could one observe behind the dust's curtain.

The breeze shifted ever so slightly, chasing away the haunting smell. At that same instant, the dust cloud parted so that Asotos could clearly see Erithia seated upon her horse. He clenched his fists, cursing under his breath, "Play your silly games, Witch Woman, thief of stolen treasures! This day is mine! I shall win it! I shall win it! Then watch and see my wrath reserved for those who have honored your evil!" His hands relaxed while a garish grin slowly crept across his face, thinking just how futile the Witch Woman's tricks would be this day.

A little dust devil whirled in from nowhere, gathering up and scattering gritty sand into the faces of Asotos and his officers. As suddenly as it appeared, the micro twister vanished in the desert heat, spiriting away the haunting breeze and all the womanly fragrances carried upon it. Before Asotos could take notice, a harmonic symphony of mesmerizing, chiming melodies crashed upon his ears. Surprise and consternation filled an impassioned heart as wanton eyes searched the shadowy forms hidden in the settling dust. As suddenly as the breeze had died, it sprang back to life with intensified energy, swirling and churning the dust skyward in thick, blinding clouds.

Troubling, half-forgotten memories ripped through Asotos' mind like jagged lightning through a sky. His anger flashed as ghostly visions of passions denied raced through his body, bringing with them vivid recollections of stolen expectations soon to be replaced with hopeless frustration as the crimson haze blocked from his view those in Erithia's van. He cursed the Queen of Evil under his breath, believing she was working some of her witchery on him.

Oh, but it was all too late for Asotos. His mind released a tsunami of emotional tumult buried deep under an ocean's locker of sunken feelings. How his heart began to pine with lonely desire for the one creature he ever wanted but had remained ever elusive! Fists clenched in growing rage as he thought of the woman's murder before she could be brought into his world. He was so close...

"Damn her! Damn her!" the man cursed under his breath. To steal the only woman of Earth he had ever taken a shine to and destroy her was unforgivable! The day would come when Gabrielle would pay, and pay dearly for this and a multitude of other atrocities she had fomented against him and his fellow innocents. Today! Today was only the beginning of his revenge.

Asotos relaxed as he dreamed of future hours and coming days. Oh, the sweet anticipation of watching life slowly ebb from this usurping wench, Michael, while her saving mentor stands hopelessly by, impotent in her ability to even rescue herself! He laughed quietly thinking about the new and wondrous machines being developed in his laboratories at this very moment...machines that might keep a mind alive long after it has tired of its wretched body.

For but a moment, Asotos regretted Gabrielle's absence at today's prisoner exchange. Oh well, the better for it. No need to risk the woman's hidden powers. She was a formidable foe. It had been an easy matter to get Erithia's promise to stay out of the proceedings this day. She was so willing to make concessions when it came to her children. So much she wanted to see them all safely home again, surrendering up everything in hopes of being reunited with them. Gabrielle was so different... hardened, callous. She would accept no parley, except maybe in an attempt to save her little darling, Michael. He frowned angrily. No, it had not been worth the risk, not this day when everything had to go just right. Things were better off left where they were.

Smiling, Asotos quietly cooed, "It's for the best. Her hour will yet come, and soon."

The breeze fell into subtle repose, its becalmed breath little more than a memory. As it faded away, the musical refrains of tiny bells drifted quietly upon the air, playing their bewitching music in Asotos' ears. With renewed energy, the man again took up his search for the source of the painfully alluring tune, waiting impatiently for the diminishing dust cloud to unveil secrets within.

Ah, finally, the person leading Erithia's horse, yes! He strained his eyes as though they might be able to rent the red curtain aside by their sheer willpower to reveal to him the creature hurting his mind so.

Just as the dust was beginning to part, causing a smile to break across wanting lips, the lead team of horses bringing up the wagon train moved between the person creating the musical tumult and Asotos. Forcing back a desire to scream out his angry frustration, in a hush he cursed, hands shaking in little tremors, "You will regret this interference! Only the worse will it be should you renege upon your oath to stand down this day!"

Silence...no reply echoing in Asotos' mind. Then he saw them, scolding eyes glinting with laughter and the message they sent was clear. 'War is played on many levels. Can you best me with your cunning, oh empty scarecrow of the imagination? My daughter is not the only lone soul standing the corn this day. As you do, I also play for keeps. I throw the dice to the Fates and shall gather up the gold. For me, I have the unknown elements supporting my intrigues. What is in your quiver but empty threats and hollow words?' The laughing eyes faded from his vision.

Asotos screamed out in his mind with chastising rebukes and curses. 'Be off with you, Witch of the Damned! Today is my day. You have fated the destruction of your own children. My quiver is filled with righteous indignation that shall overcome any of your impotent machinations. Be off with you now, before this fear-inspiring day fills your soul with anguish and dread! Be off, before my arrows are unleashed against all the abominations gathered here with you!'

Silence! Golden silence! But Asotos' smile soon melted away into a frown. No reply? He knew Erithia had heard his declarations and threats, and she made no reply. The man searched the harmonics for signs of emotion, reaction. None... nothing! Erithia had disappeared from the very existence of the universe. Suddenly, the man felt himself falling into immeasurable emptiness, a vast void in which a very tiny universe appeared to be little more than a pinprick of light in all the empty, cold nothingness surrounding it, chilling his heart.

As he dumbly stood there, attempting to understand the meaning of what he was seeing, a voice faint and distant echoed in his mind, "My world..." The vision evaporated in forgetful mist as the hypnotic music of the dancing bells intensified.

At that instant, a small gap between the two lead wagons revealed the secreted source of the music. For only seconds, Asotos stared, mouth agape, at the very image of unfulfilled desires passed. Could it be her? Was it his very dream of dreams returned from the Abyss to haunt this hour? There she was, exactly as his passionate mind remembered her or...

The second team plodded ahead, blocking Asotos' view. He swore an oath of damnation against Erithia and all her children, shaking his head in disgust. "The dead see not, hear not. What goes to the dust does not return from it. Her witchery shall turn her bastardly abominations into dust. I swear!"

Attempting to check his emotions, Asotos forced his attention back to Michael and her entourage. The nearing throng was close enough now to allow keen recognition of people approaching. Two men walked near and to the left of Michael in the lead element. Although dressed in robes of state that hid suits of armor, their uncertain gait and wonder-filled faces revealed the truth that these fellows were new to such intrigues and uncomfortable, feeling out of place being here. Peculiar...

There were few in Michael's assembly that Asotos did not know, other than the woman walking beside her and... and that queer fellow far off to her left. The man was dressed more like a Stasis Pirate and walked with a swagger that made him appear as though he was looking for a confrontation. The man carried no sword, but other weapons aplenty - weapons normally reserved for the battlefield.

At that moment, the man's stare caught Asotos' attention, locking the two in an intense gaze. A wicked smile crossed the man's lips, his eyes boring in Asotos'. 'Fool! Does this fool have no comprehension of who he is contesting with?' Asotos reached out to study the spirit of the man, to search his soul and mind, to find out what he was about.

He was shocked, dumbstruck, nearly stepping back in surprise. Asotos saw in the man an evil darkness greater than he saw in the hearts of the Stasis, a heart filled with more malice and hatred than ever before he had witnessed in any of Erithia's children. He could feel the man's restraint, holding back his desire to gather up his weapons and bring to a finish, now, the object of his hatred. Fear? The man showed no sign of fear, only a hungry longing to dispose of the source of his immense hatred - the person he was staring at.

Shaken, Asotos broke off this silent engagement, leaving the field of battle to this strange fellow. 'Another time, another time...' he muttered, giving himself excuse that the hour did not permit such trivial games. He took up a search of other faces in the crowd.

Another unfamiliar face, a big fellow following to the side and behind Planetee - didn't recognize him either. He had heard rumors of children from the Lower Worlds being brought into this one, all the way back to the days of the Great War. Even Legion had told him so, saying that Aphrodite was raised up to these worlds. Asotos did not believe it then, and he certainly did not believe it now! That was a religion held out to the mindless fool! When one was dead, they were dead forever. That was how it was.

Still, Erithia was up to something. What it was, Asotos did not know. 'Look sharp or she'll best you.' He laughed at the very thought of that possibility. Something was up, though. Asotos watched Planetee's body language. She was nearly stalking the woman walking beside Michael. Planetee...how he hated the woman! 'Her demise will also come very slowly. She will not go unpunished for all the treasonous evil she has committed against me! Ruined so many of my plans by her deceit...'

"Damn the music!" Asotos almost shouted, holding his tongue at the last second.

Legion turned, asking if something was wrong. Asotos waved him off, stating it was nothing, all the while fuming at the constant jingling hammering his senses.

'Concentrate! Concentrate! Do not allow the evil of that necromancer to cause you any distraction,' Asotos warned himself. He focused all his attention on Michael and her troubling escort while attempting to push the ever-intrusive music from his mind.

The consternation on Michael's face betrayed the woman's inner turmoil. Asotos smiled. 'She must be near the breaking point, her nerves undoubtedly stretched to the limit. Today... today her cunning will not give its allegiance and she will stumble completely in word and deed.'

Erithia would dare not assist her little bitch-girl this day, could not. Asotos was no stranger to the wiles of the harmonics. He would know if the woman was being assisted by the magic of the Palace. Michael stood alone, with her bent and twisted mind her only ally.

Suddenly, the creature walking beside Michael fell into her as if being pushed. Michael instantly flew into a quiet rage, spewing whispered curses as her face reddened and fists clenched. They were close enough now that a keen eye could read some of the words coming from the woman's lips. Asotos lifted his head in surprise. This creature walking beside Michael was no friend, at least not at the moment. What was this all about? Asotos focused his attention upon the creature.

Strange, so strange! Asotos could identify no harmonics coming from this woman that stirred any memory whatsoever, except...as if sniffing the breeze, the man lifted his head to gather in the woman's scent. No, the scent of the little brattling who invaded his bed to be with Sirion could not be found. He would remember it. But the woman did carry a scent that was confusing and troubling, a smell similar to his own, as if he had shared her bed...queer, so queer...

As he puzzled over this revelation, the man examined the woman's appearance. True, she stood proud but unobtrusive, and her heart burned with a blackness similar to that of the fellow off to his right. But it was her garb that caught his eye. The creature was out of place, too ornately dressed to be a bodyguard or common officer. Asotos raised an eyebrow as he examined the person.

The creature's armored breastplate and helmet shone golden with the greenish sheen of a very rare mineral found only in a distant star system far away in the Outer Ranges. The armor covered a coat of silvery mail that appeared to be made of derker blade steel, blue-green energy dancing across the chain links. The mail covered a long-sleeved, emerald-green tunic that appeared to be made of the same material as the woman's long, flowing cape. Asotos also puzzled at the feathery, white horse's plume trailing down from the helmet's top. It had been many centuries since such distinctive ornamentation crowned a commanding officer's helm. What was this creature's position in Michael's military?

A sudden rogue gust of wind caught the creature's cape, whipping it high into the excited tempest, exposing the left side of her uniform. There, upon the breastplate and pauldron were bejeweled crests signifying the person's rank. Asotos stared in disbelief, glancing at Michael before fixing his eyes again on the person.

Field marshal? Field marshal! There was no doubt the significance of this discovery. Asotos could not believe what he was seeing. For two thousand years, Michael had been marshal enforce, field marshal, dictator absolute over all the military forces of the Children's Empire. Although fearless and charismatic, the woman was predictable, the reason for the Treaty of Memphis. If this creature was field marshal, what position did Michael have? Had she taken pseudo-command, being the hidden power behind the military in the same manner as Gabrielle, and was her little puppet acting insubordinately, attempting a coup?

Asotos looked over at Michael, chuckling, that is until he examined her uniform. Blood drained from his face as his heart erupted in a jealous rage upon seeing the royal crest engraved on the woman's helm. In the center was a blazing star-like diamond, with twelve fingers radiating outward and up, each finger ending at a different glowing gemstone. On each side of the helm was the head of a roaring, maned young lion with the words engraved underneath each head, 'Who is the First Born.'

"Miserable...little... usurping ...bitch!" Asotos cried, his words slipping out loud enough to catch the attention of those standing near.

Legion turned to Asotos, puzzled. "Is my brother troubled over something?"

Gathering his wits quickly, Asotos shook his head, saying it was nothing, fearing that his men might realize something was amiss. Holding his temper in check, he glared at the person trusted to deliver any important information to him before this prisoner exchange. 'I will skin that traitor alive along with all the others who have failed me. They will beg to die, but life will not flee them... forever!'

Turning his attention back to Michael, Asotos hissed under his breath, "This time you have gone too far. You will not live to the end of this day! I shall rip your beating heart from your chest and carry your worthless head away as a trophy to hang upon my wall!"

Looking off toward his left, he watched Erithia sitting her mount. 'Patience now...be patient. Mustn't give her reason to interfere... The bitch-woman is near her breaking point. My little surprise will push her far beyond, and then I...well, I have the right to defend myself.'

He chuckled, thinking about the torment he was going to deliver upon his most hated foe. Erithia's tears would flow in rivers and she would be unable to do a thing except watch the destruction of her hopes and dreams.

Sucking in a breath of the dry desert air, Asotos grinned. Turning to Legion, he sighed with satisfaction, "It feels so good to be alive."

* * *

Sirion had no strength to cry out as Godenn dug his fingernails into her face while slamming her head into the metal wall of the tiny cell. Flashing a garish grin, watching blood trickle from torn flesh, his gleeful voice filled the chamber with carefree melody. "My, my, such a pleasant day for a party. I do hope your friends will enjoy the way their little girl has been all made up for it."

Sirion did not move, could not. Even though the pain in her bowel was excruciating, the woman's every breath sending blinding spasms up her spine and into her head, there was no energy left within her broken body to even allow a whimper to escape her lips. Though unable to focus her sight upon the face of the man torturing her, she could smell the stench of his rotten breath, reeking of drugs and strong drink. She did not hear Godenn's sweet rhapsody, her mind only seeking the peaceful quiet of Death's repose. Yet Death dare not tread her road this day.

Disappointed at seeing no response, Godenn cooed again, this time in such a motherly, chastising way, "Now, now, my dear little one, I am so surprised. I would have thought to see some excitement from you at hearing of your family's arrival. They've come for you, you know, all the way, just for their little darling."

He released his grip and walked across the cell to a tiny window. Peering out, he cheerily exclaimed, "They're almost here, dressed up like in celebration. Why, in a little bit, you and me will walk arm in arm out to greet them. They'll be so surprised to see you!"

He turned back and pulled up a stool in front of Sirion, frowning, "We'll miss you, you know. Have gotten quite fond of you... Never had you to share a bed with 'til..." he grinned, laughing, "I'm sure you remember the night. Well, anyway, I expect you'll recall your little visit all right, with real fondness..."

When Sirion did not respond to Godenn's comments, he reached into a shoulder bag to retrieve a small medical kit. Removing a syringe, he jabbed the needle into an artery just below the girl's ear. She winced in pain as the drug raced to her brain. With a cry, the woman sucked in a deep breath, her body and mind coming alive with anxious energy.

Godenn scoffed, "There, there, that's a good one. Need you wide awake for the show. Now let's get on with it."

After removing the neck brace that held Sirion's head upright and forced her upper body back against the wall, Godenn pulled from his bag a strange-looking, spiked collar. Snapping it tight around her neck with a large circular clasp through which he fastened a heavy leash, Godenn lowered the girl's cuffed hands and chained them up short to the collar so that the weight of limp arms hung heavy upon Sirion's neck. He yanked hard on the leash. Sirion howled, the sharpened inner studs biting deep through bruised skin and torn muscle.

Godenn laughed sinisterly, "Now, now, little darling, you be a good girl and I won't push this button, least not now. I'd hate to see that pretty little head of yours pop off its shoulders. That's true...at least not yet." He laughed again.

Getting up, he walked back over to the window. It would be a while before the prisoners were to be released. There was little more for him to do but wait and keep the girl alive and able to walk. He had to keep her alive, at least for a bit longer. It was for his own wellbeing.

Slowly tilting his head from side to side, Godenn studied the broken, tortured creature across the cell. Finally he grinned, toothy, wide, snapping his fingers. "You know, I think you need just a little more dressin' up." With that, he stepped forward, drawing his fist back, and smashed Sirion square in the face.

'Thud!' Sirion's head slammed into the wall as blood spattered all over. Godenn stepped back. The girl's nose was smashed flat, crushed to pulp. "There!" the man cooed, "I think you're ready for the show."

* * *

~Excerpted from _Shadows on the Moon...My Life in the Rainbow_ by J. Garlock~

"The destiny of worlds may at times hinge upon the least notable and insignificant of events that scholars discard into the dustbin of forgotten history. The pen finds the majesty of great battles won through sacrifice and horrific loss of life to be more notable, thus more worthy of consuming the written page than a quiet beginning where the choosing of a road taken may change forever the worlds of men.

The taming of the Silk is a much more exciting read than the building of the caves of the PrasiaOdous, or the tale of the Charge of the Glitter Brigade a more titillating account than that of a choice made by a Postal driver, yet the former are little more than mile markers upon a long and perilous road. The latter, which are of far lesser account, changed the universe forever. For, without the caves, there would have been no battle for the Silk, and absent a pivotal choice made, there would have been no brigade of brave knights to charge to the rescue of a defeated army.

Fate! Fate is what the heart and mind make of it. Fate cares not the outcome or the ending. The laws controlling Fate are but mindless and fickle. No, it is the mind and heart that creates the direction Fate chooses and the whimsical footfall of decisions made that build that fated road. Should a man step from the fated road, no one will know because the new path shall quickly be declared Fate's intended journey. And yet it is the path, often decided by the ignorant and foolish, that either ends in glory or humiliation, which we choose to call 'Fate' as if a far greater intelligence is somehow leading us toward a grand fulfillment.

Should that really be the case, that a god, Fate, rules our destiny, then all the more are we to be pitied. What hope exists should that be the case? Where is the mastery of our own hearts and minds if all is directed by a distant power called 'Fate'? Yet, if Fate were to rule the day, it would draw into question the final direction of history if the Maker of All Things should also fall under its authority. For how can the Maker of All Things not also be the progenitor of Fate, a machine built to satisfy the whims of a wanton heart? And should the progenitor of Fate... the Maker of All Things... submit to what is made, then will not Fate itself be lifted above God and become greater than its Maker? Should the God over all Heaven and Earth, all that is elemental and ethereal, also be subjected to Fate? It makes no sense to a logical mind. Yet here, at a forgotten time in space, the most Holy of Holy is found casting the future to the Fates. In what way?

What then, truly, is Fate? I dare not say for a certainty, but I can tell you that the fate of chance is a most elusive ally if relied upon. As for myself, I stood upon the high plain of decision on that day so many eons ago and watched the Master over Fate work her magic, using not Fate, but Faith, to best her adversary - a faith so strong so as to place the history of eternity upon the decisions made by a few frail children who knew neither good nor bad. The Master over Fate tossed that foolhardy ally aside and chose instead to trust innocent hearts filled with the Third Element, that of Love, to best the day.

It is Love then that is the master over the Maker of Worlds. Yet, is not this Third Element, this Love, itself, the very essence of God? So then, this fact I have come to discern: that only God is master over God, and that fate, the fate of Love's decision, will always win out. It is this fate, then, that the Maker of Worlds trusted history to, that all men must search for and then allow to guide their feet on life's path.

I say then to Fate, 'To you I will pay no heed nor will I give a listening ear, for you are both fickle and deceitful. But to Love will I cast all my hope and charity, for it can never fail.'

Here, on an unimportant desert planet in a remote part of the cosmos, there gathered the two most powerful gods known to the history of mankind. One was seeking power and glory to gain mastery of the universe, to rule as supreme king and potentate, and to fill that universe with his own new creation. The other came on a mission to bring to a finish what was started so long ago, to gather the four winds in a panting to their end. Today, this God would relinquish her throne to a force far greater than she, herself, for this force came out of a belief - a faith that the Third Element gathered by the collective was a far greater force than the sum of its parts. This belief the Great King needed to put to the test. Into the ocean of Fate, Rhiannon was about to cast all her wonderful things. The future of the universe depended on it."

* * *

Lowenah sat proud upon her parti-colored mount, a powerful KaminosKtisis named 'ReaBhemah', meaning 'animal companion'. The great horse was said to have been her personal creation, the very first of the KaminosKtisis. It was said by legend that ReaBhemah roamed the valleys and plains of EdenEsonbar long before a palace set upon butte overlooking the 'Seven Walls of Creation', the name given by the Ancients to the high enclosures that once surrounded the palace.

ReaBhemah was also called 'SusRuah', meaning 'Spirit Horse', by many of the older children. Tales told of early adventurers traveling the haunted lands of EdenEsonbar, and later distant star systems, occasionally seeing a ghostly shadow of a lone horse and rider in the bright of the moonlight off in the distance, as if standing vigil over the sojourners. These Ancients recalled when seeing the apparition that anxious disquiet would begin to fill their hearts with foreboding. This dread would lead to action, often saving the persons from suffering some later calamity. These same Ancients came to believe that the ghostly rider was none other than Lowenah seated upon ReaBhemah, she warning her children of some coming unseen danger.

Whatever the case, ReaBhemah was a spirit horse. It lived in Lowenah's mind, coming to her when she wished it. The animal had not been boarded for this long journey, but came trotting out of the desert that very morning, prepared for the occasion. Wide-eyed, the children new to this world were, many for the first time seeing some of Lowenah's magic. For the others, some were amused, a few quietly smiled, one or two made comment. The majority paid little heed, busying themselves with other activities in the morning's preparation for the exchange. As one newcomer later stated regarding it, 'I guess magic just isn't magic if you see it often enough.'

(Author's note: _For many readers, ReaBhemah will be new to them. In my opinion, the historical accounts penned by many of Lowenah's children are rather droll and unexciting, being written as if to be graded in a class rather than to be shared with other people. Oh yes, so many historians can bore you to tears with an everlasting list of details regarding some meaningless event or inconsequential battle - one in which they may have played a part. Yet even in these exhaustive, dull, overly scrutinized, obfuscating accounts, little or no comment can be found regarding any of what I like to call 'magic'._

Although some have complained that my own works can be and are overly scrutinized and at times obfuscating, I \- as any good author will do - defend what has been written as absolutely necessary for the proper understanding of the historical events. So it is here that I have added a short account of ReaBhemah, feeling that it rounds out this little bit of history concerning the prisoner exchange. I think it also adds a bit of spice to the following material.

Lowenah was – is not one to toot her own horn, to show the universe just who she really is. Maybe it is for the best. For if the persons lifted up to immortality are left speechless when witnessing the breadth and depth of a fathomless soul filled with such power, wisdom, and might, what then for the worlds of men?

ReaBhemah is but one simple act of Lowenah's magic, much as a rabbit trick is for a talented magician and escape artist. What then are the magical abilities of this Maker of Worlds? As the reader will find in the following account, Lowenah's power is far greater than most can imagine, even to the point of changing time and space. I ponder for a moment: should you have such power, and should you be in the agony of heart that this Possessor of such power (magic) was, would you have the strength to restrain such a distraught heart, instead suffering that anguish within to give honor to a self-made law?

_Occasionally accompanied with tears, I was told the following secrets of a once aching heart that still pines with regret. Only in retrospect can we comprehend the magnitude of love displayed by this beautiful person who, in one moment, could have removed all the suffering from that heart but, for the love of righteousness, stayed a bitter course for the betterment of all her children. When the import of what Lowenah did, or should I say, did not do, becomes fully understood, then all faith will come to its end, for Love will have conquered even it._ )

How different the world was today. Never would it again be the way it was before this day. Lowenah knew and understood just how dramatic the change, though she concluded that few of her children had the slightest comprehension that it was so. If ignorance was not bliss, it certainly was contagious. Even her most loyal children could not fathom the real need to end this Rebellion.

For these seemingly endless ages since the strife began, the loyal children fought for the glory and honor of the Maker of Worlds, for her cause. Willingly, they marched to the death in a war waged over sovereignty...who had the right to rule. Yet the very concept of sovereignty was an obtuse ideology based upon absolutes and conjecture.

Who did have the right to rule? Lowenah shook her head, laughing sadly to herself. Had she not spent countless eons of time preparing her now rebellious son to become ruler over the things she created in both the worlds above and below? Chrusion and those supporting him were constant purveyors of this religious viewpoint, all their ruthless acts of violence committed in support of its accomplishment. Yes, to them Mother had stolen back what had already been given, what was not even hers to give, thus making her the thief and usurper of the kingdom.

AsreHalom, at one time the greatest of Lowenah's counselors, the man falling away to the Darkness early, had even declared that she was not the Creator, but merely a torchbearer preparing the way for the son, Chrusion, the child, the Firstborn, rightful heir - created directly by the Master Builders \- who was to take up command over the universe. Women - or gods in womanly form - ever were and always would be the servants of the men, their superiors. This religion was taught with fervency in Chrusion's kingdom. Indeed, for his followers, it was the foundation upon which all law was written.

Yet history had proved to Lowenah that even her most faithful children invented a personal religion that led them in their lives. Most popular was that the universe revolved and existed around its Creator, that the Maker of Worlds ruled over her creation with a harmonic control built into it. This religion had grown out of the children's scientific study of the universe, a study they called 'EbenCeruboam'. In essence, it declared that the soul of the Creator could be found in all living things and, if the children could discover how the universe worked, they would come to understand its Creator better.

After the Rebellion, this philosophy grew into the belief in Divine Sovereignty, that Lowenah had the right to rule because she had created all things, placing a little piece of her soul in them. That was an erroneous belief. Only the Third Element was made of her essence, and that energy was something unnecessary for life. It was the power of the Third Element that made one godly, and to this day was ignored, or at best misunderstood by her children. Mihai was filled with it, tapped into its power, but had no conscious awareness of its presence.

Lowenah cast a glance across the crowded plain, sighing. Did anyone understand? Who among her own most cherished children really comprehended the depth and breadth of matters, the reason for this hour, for their very existence? It was not sovereignty that was the issue, which was a collective concept where the whole handed over allegiance to a superior ruler. No, this issue was personal, and the future of the universe hinged upon it. It was a principle that was not based upon rulership but on the Third Element. What? So simple, yet so elusive a beast, it was a matter of doing the right thing just because it was the right thing to do. This was the true religion, the absolute, the bond that held together the universe and all living things in it.

Lowenah frowned. The children from the wild Lower Realms had a much better grasp of this reality, this religion. Garlock and Paul understood it, lived it... at least lived it through the spirit while not necessarily recognizing it through the mind. Tolohe understood it, but why not? Was she not already a god - mortal maybe - but still a god, made so by the Immortal Ones? Lowenah also believed her child, Rachel, leading ReaBhemah was heart-wise to this reality. Lowenah's own heart told her it was true. She believed it so. It must be so. Whether so or not, it would be revealed this day. If the child could draw upon that reality to her success, then the Maker of Worlds would one day deliver her child up to the Immortals to be changed into a god, herself. If she failed? The child would succeed. Lowenah's heart refused to consider it otherwise.

A small cloud suddenly covered the burning sun, its shadow stirring a morose heart filled with regret. In an instant of time, so many of the decisions Lowenah had made over countless ages swept through her mind. Surrounding her on this desert plain were the most precious of all her treasures, her children. Each one was a true creation of will, of heart, each one planned as carefully as one chooses the notes of a grand symphony. Oh yes, she had allowed chance to choose so much of the physical and mental makeup of each child, but still she, the Maker of Worlds had personally dabbled with each individual soul, making it just so.

Then she had nurtured each of those souls within her body of flesh until that child's little body was ready to be ushered into its exciting new world. All the while the child resided within, she sang to it sweet lullabies filled with love and affection. Then each newborn she lifted up to her breast and fed to it the elixir of life, the milk of her very person, to fill it up and nourish its soul and spirit. Even when her child had grown in power and stature, even up through its eighth year, Lowenah continued her nursing care, holding her child close in her bosom at night while it drank to dreamy satisfaction.

Had she not also built into her daughters this same motherly instinct, and given to them the power to produce the same creamy elixir to share with their brothers and sisters in their sweet times of lovemaking? Indeed, had Lowenah not created her children to become lost in the ecstasy of body, mind, and spirit, melting into the body, mind, and spirit of each and every lover companion the child shared its love with? Yet more...had she not made them in a way so that the profound condition of joy and ecstasy would only grow until it would become all-consuming, the more they loved one another, the greater the joy?

Lowenah pondered troubling questions as the gloom gathered its strength. What had her children lacked in need or comfort? Everything she had made in this universe was for them, to titillate their senses, satisfy every desire, the soul, the heart, the palate, ear, eye - every sense satisfied to a state of intoxication. There were no laws, no restrictions, no boundaries except for what was written upon their hearts. And were not those laws written by the Third Element and not by her hand? Why the Rebellion? Why the revolt?

Yet here they were, she sitting her horse, preparing to do diplomatic battle, to make contest over what should never have been questioned - the freedom of the heart. But no, it must be contested, because rulership demands slavery of the heart to a ruler, lawmaker - whether to an evil, cruel dictator or a kindly, benevolent dictator, it still meant slavery to someone. Lowenah had not created it within her children to be ruled over, to be made slaves. They were free people; all men were created to be free. That is what made her children so different from the other creations of flesh. Her children were the masters over their own souls.

What then was so difficult for her children to understand? Should freedom be stolen, whether by good or evil, that loss of freedom would eventually lead to chaos of the heart, and eventually the destruction of all living things, possibly all material creation. Could her children not grasp that one little truth? No overlord could become master over another, by choice or dictation, without eventually destroying the very fabric of the universe. Freedom must be satisfied or all things would fail.

Pausing in thought, Lowenah nodded, considering. She could change things. She had grown in understanding since the beginning of time, the making of her worlds. She could stop time, even reverse it. She could return her universe back to the innocent days of bliss, rewrite its blueprints and redesign its very structure. Then she could start over, rebirth all her children exactly as she had done before, for she had their signatures preserved inside her mind. She could reproduce them exactly as they had been before. And she need not sweep time aside and return to its beginning to do it.

No! Lowenah had the power to stop time where it was now, then back it up to the last age, the last great celebration. There she could freeze the moment, reach in to the souls of each and every one of her children, and alter ever so slightly the signature of freedom's meaning. She would hardwire her creation differently so that they would never come to want, never desire something they did not own, possess. Then she would fill their hearts with joy and bliss to the point of overflowing, drug their senses so that forever they would be thrilled with the creations offered them.

Then, when the universe again rested in the cradle of satisfaction and peace, Lowenah would gather her being to a self-induced forgetfulness, and when she awoke would remember not the evil done over this past vile age, or the wickedness of her children, or the treachery of her most cherished son. She smiled. Yes, yes, it could be done and with ease, and freedom would become relative to life, not such an important thing, and no one would know.

Lowenah frowned. They would know. The powers beyond the universe, the silent Watchers would know. Never would they speak about it to her, not a word, but she would know that they knew that she betrayed everything she was about, for she had made them in her carefree days, made them from herself, her very fabric, Immortals beyond Immortals, with her mind and soul inside them. Forever they would accuse her of the evil she had committed. To steal freedom from those who had no power to resist? She could not change them, bring them into a current forgetfulness, or even pass them along into eternal darkness, for they are as immortal as she. As are her days, so are theirs. They would ever be her reminder of evil done.

Yet, that was not the worst of matters. How could she forever live with herself? A shudder ran down her back. Might she not destroy the very universe in her anguish over being the greatest of all thieves? Her son could only steal the body in death, the hope of a return far beyond his grasp. She could steal the very mind and heart of any and all her children, and would if she carried out such a dastardly scheme as her heart currently entertained. Oh, the villainy of a twisted heart!

No! No, the pain of all matters must be allowed to come to its own finish. The heart must break...be broken, for if it does not break with knowledge, it cannot grow with wisdom. That heart will heal with time - her heart - and that wisdom attained can lead her creation to even greater heights. Are not the scars the greatest tribute to valor in the battle fought? Is not the hour of deepest despair and greatest dread the most oft tale told when around the campfire where one safely sits? And is not the smallest coin lost in time of great need the grandest treasure to be sought after and celebrated when found?

Then what was the Maker of All Things missing? What was her mind failing to comprehend regarding the great equation of life? What elemental fact was escaping her? Was freedom of lesser import than she had assumed? Lowenah puzzled. Why had the fabric remained so strong when even her most loyal children submitted their very being to a king, a very frail, foolish king, become her willing slaves? Michael did not fracture the power of the universe, but strengthened it. How? It was not her great wisdom or might. Wisdom the child lacked in sufficient amount to make her foolish at times, and her might was given her by the people who became her servants.

Lowenah smiled, hope growing in her heart. It was the Third Element that must move her children to allow their enslavement to a cause or a person. It mattered little. When principled love...to do the right thing...was the motivating force, then there was no slavery. How could she have missed it, the very Creator of the fabric that held together the universe and everything within it, how?

Lowenah chided herself, recalling her own proverb. 'A tricksy heart will make even the wise act foolishly.' Here was the answer: It was not the mind knowing that one must do the right thing, it was the heart feeling the necessity to follow a certain course to its end that made the right thing happen. Even if her children knew not in their minds what to do, their hearts filled with the Third Element, this Love, would cause them to do the right thing. This, no matter the sacrifice made to attain it, was freedom, freedom of choice, freedom of the heart.

The people gathered here on this day had all made choices. It was their freedom to do so. Whether one chooses to live a slave or die a free man is still a choice. Was not the choice to do good or ill a freedom given to each and every one of her children? Had she not made them gods over their own being, to choose good or ill, life or death for themselves? It was when that freedom encroached upon another that the Judge of Heaven and Earth must step in, not to prevent freedom, but to protect the innocent from enslavement. The slave here this day was anyone held against his or her will, in spirit or body.

Lowenah, the greatest of Potentates, had come here this day to put the universe on notice that no forced slavery would be forever tolerated. Today she was going to demonstrate that freedom, bought at whatever the cost, was a treasure greater than all other things. She would show her children that to do the right thing was supreme, no matter the pain or sorrow... no matter the breadth or depth of tribulation. In the end, if the right thing has been done, the Third Element will heal the universe and all the souls within it.

Suddenly the sun broke clear of the little cloud. Lowenah looked up, smiling. Not by chance had this moment come and passed. Other powers...powers she often ignored, stood vigil over her and all her treasures, especially over her heart. Even she had lessons to yet learn, riddles to understand. The game was not over. All knowledge was not yet hers. These stealthy powers had reminded her of that. 'Carry it on to the finish, for there is where you will find the prize. See it through, and stay on course. You will succeed.'

Lowenah smiled, acknowledging an oft-forgotten truth. She was not alone unless she chose to ignore the Whispering Spirits. They lived for her, not because they had been made that way, but because they choose to be that way. Made more of the Third Element were they than she often cared to understand. Never did they fail. Never would they, nor would they allow her to fail, ever...

Staring into the sun, Lowenah's mind raced with future thoughts. The hour was yet to come, would come for a certainty. Shiloh would arrive, and she would fall in love again, forgetting forever her former lover. Peace would return to her universe, but this time it would be tempered with wisdom and knowledge of just how precious and tenuous it really is. Her children would be filled with an understanding that a thousand ages of peace would have never been able to teach. The Third Element would no longer be taught as an abstract philosophy, but as something real to be sought for like hidden treasure.

Lowenah looked up into the deep, blue sky, her heart unburdened of its former gloom. Today was pivotal, but still it was only one more step up the long stairway to the everlasting Samayim. "Come my children, and we shall together tread the stairway to Heaven, to reach our destiny in the near beyond where all will find everlasting delight in dreams fulfilled."

She looked over the heads of her loyal children to the man standing as her adversary, his evil, shadowy presence shrinking before her eyes. Yes, even his great wickedness was but momentary and light, so weak and insignificant in comparison to the bright light of Love, as quickly as the darkest gloom filling the land can be swept away by a tiny spark far off in the distance.

Evil, where is your strength? How quickly you will fade when the day dawns new!

Lowenah grinned, her heart beating with hope renewed. It was a new dawning bringing with it the distinct scent of rebirth. True, the storm must yet pass, but the freshness of the after-breath was carried on the breeze. Sucking that breath in, she filled her lungs with its intoxicating essence. This day was the sunrise of coming eternity. What a joy! It felt so very good to be alive!

* * *

Mihai came to a stop some five paces from the opposing line, she and her diplomatic body of a dozen or so counselors and armed escorts facing Asotos and his party. Off to her left and behind were the soldiers, some dressed in fancy, decorated armor while others were helmed and cloaked in gray.

A lead teamster shouted commands to the horses, struggling, pulling hard on the reins. He managed to bring them to a standstill before plowing into Asotos' entourage, but little more, only two paces separating them.

Asotos silently fumed. These beasts were QuanSandoos, powerful draft animals of immense proportions, being well over eighteen hands at the shoulders. The wheeled wagon they pulled was even taller. No way could the teamster back up. Not only were the wheels sitting deep in the sand, the following teams' noses were nearly touching the back of the lead wagon. It was also the same for the following team, and the one behind it. "What clowns! Oh, why did the fools bring wheeled machines?" he muttered under his breath.

Frustrated, Asotos attempted to see beyond the horses to the people on his left. Impossible! Other than Lowenah who sat astride ReaBhemah, her upper body visible above the obstructions, everyone else was hidden from him. Little could he do except to call a halt, demanding the lead team be removed from the scene...too time consuming...or, direct his people to step back several paces... too intimidating! Never! That determined, he decided to accept his fate, pondering some way to turn it to his advantage.

He glared at Lowenah, cursing her in his mind. Lowenah stared back, her face expressionless. Suddenly her horse reared, startled, its head snapping back as it stepped to its side. An explosive wave of thousands of tiny, hypnotically musical cymbals crashed upon Asotos' ears, the man wincing as if in pain from the onslaught, followed quickly by another crashing assault, and then another. Regaining control of her mount, Lowenah looked apologetically at Asotos, he angrily glaring at her.

Darla had been standing quietly beside Lowenah, holding ReaBhemah's reins, when a large blowfly took a bite out of her just behind the knee. Instinctively, the woman swatted it, pulling hard on the horse's reins as she twisted her body doing so. That was the first concussive blast from the bells dancing upon her breasts. The second came when ReaBhemah bolted in surprise, the animal yanking Darla backward as it reared its head.

As all this unfolded, Ardon stepped forward, aghast, crying out in his thoughts, 'Fool! Little fool! You'll mess it all up!' Anxious, the man grabbed hold of Darla's arm, shaking her in the process. That was the third of the jingling blasts to hit Asotos' ears. Lowenah shot a warning at Ardon, her eyes telling him to leave the girl go. Inside she laughed to herself, 'Got a good dose that time! Keep him distracted for a while...'

The knelling of the bells tore through Asotos' mind, his brain racing with haunting memories, the practiced cries of ecstasy from a young woman forced to pacify greedy priests who desired repeat customers to keep fat purses filled. No beatings today if she performed well. Oh, how Asotos had reveled in her passionate songs, how much he had wanted her for himself to experience her in the flesh, not through the possessed soul of some drunken worshiper. Those bells, those damned bells flooded his memory with hopeless desires, of wishes denied!

'Witch! Evil witch!' He screamed out in his mind to Lowenah. 'Queen over the crawling things you are...treacherous and evil, the true Beelzebub!'

Silence...

Lowenah raised an eyebrow, her piercing eyes assaulting Asotos'. 'Beelzebub? Beelzebub? Interesting... At one time the servants of Iam called me 'Beelzeboul', 'Owner of the Lofty Abode.' I believe you call it the 'powers of the Inner Palace.' The children of Hormax stole that name from me, giving it new meaning, one you willingly accepted for yourself, 'Lord of the Flies,' or... let me see... oh, yes, 'Keeper of the Dung Heap.''

Asotos was livid, his face clouding with anger. 'Bitch! Whoremaster over lost souls! To the...'

Lowenah's eyes burned into Asotos' as a voice echoed quiet in the back of his head, asking, 'Are you addressing me, little boy?'

Although he maintained his outward composure, Asotos was outraged, especially being called 'little boy'. Gathering up his inner strength, he managed to make no reply, realizing that Lowenah's question was much more than just that. Should Asotos respond, she would automatically become included in today's proceedings. Did she think him such a fool? He looked into Lowenah's face, her laughing eyes expressing her ridicule. Well, he would not fall for such a simple trick!

Attempting to ignore her, Asotos turned his attention to the party in front and toward his right. Only seconds had passed since the wagon team had halted, though it felt like ages. He smiled, thinking of his coming surprise, but the man first was to be caught up in peculiar wonderment.

Mihai noticed Asotos wince, but paid little heed to it. After all, she had far more important matters on her mind than what minor irritation might cause him to do that. Mihai must figure out a way to abide by a very rigid protocol that Asotos demanded at all of his moots, and also manage to push this little wart-weed out of the proceedings. She must find a way to force a dialog between herself and the opposition's chief counsel, bypass the heralds and speak strategos -'archon'- to strategos.

Oh, how she missed Gabrielle! For so long, her former mentor and cherished companion had stood her side during such events. So much the ally was she that Mihai often felt that she and Gabrielle shared the same soul and heart. Gabrielle would know what to do, always knew just what to do.

Legend spoke of the woman as being one of the foremost Ancients, yet Gabrielle's history was an enigma, and those with any secret knowledge of the woman remained silent. Indeed, where had Gabrielle come from? Even her name could not be found in the historical record, though it did appear in rune writings and long-forgotten children's songs.

Mihai first recalled the woman, staring up into those ghostly gray eyes as she awoke from her coma after being attacked by Asotos and his wicked agents. So familiar she appeared, but radiant with power and glory. She remained by the girl's side through her many months of healing, and then later lifted her up to practice the arts of war, her personal mentor in that craft. Chief agent against the wicked she was, and most powerful to the point that Asotos even feared the woman's presence. There were whispers that she was a mortal god, born and raised up in the secret worlds of the Cherubs, a fable Mihai did not believe.

It was Gabrielle who taught Mihai in the secret ways of lovemaking, the 'Cherubs' Way', the woman called it. She could be ever so tender and sweet, filling the girl's mind with unimagined delights. Or the woman could become cruel and harsh, angry and aggressive, to the point of causing deep mental, emotional, and physical pain. Yet, when her passionate ecstasy had swept on and past, Mihai's heart was left yearning, craving more love, and the girl's after-dreams were always sweet and restful.

When Gabrielle stood the battle line, whether in combat or debate, her enemies often quailed in silent dread. It was that quality about her that Mihai was missing so this day. Few could successfully master the power of archon against Asotos, yet Gabrielle, standing in the position of herald, intimidated the man, thus often saving Mihai from involvement in the proceedings. One could see the disquiet in his eyes, a hidden fear. Yet, never had Mihai seen Gabrielle intimidated by him or others...never.

Mihai puzzled as she thought about it. Mother treated Gabrielle differently than the others, more as a peer than one of her children. Was Gabrielle really one of the fabled Cherubs she had been told stories about?

The snorting of one of the QuanSandoos startled Mihai back to the present. All was quiet, everyone staring at her. It was obvious that Asotos was not going to start proceedings. After all, Mihai's party had come to him. He had orchestrated it that way. Mihai would have to begin, or should it be said, protocol declared that Mihai's herald should begin. The thought of that reckless urchin, Trisha, attempting to carry on diplomatic protocol was ludicrous! Something must surely be wrong with Mother's head for her to have made this... this thing the field marshal.

Protocol...protocol...it was all about protocol. One little misstep, one wrong word, one false movement, and the entire prisoner exchange could end in catastrophe. How could Mihai trust this important moment to a person so arrogant, not to mention ignorant of their customs, and with no experience at negotiations?

Mihai's heart began to race as her breathing grew labored. Asotos was slowly becoming impatient. The silence was crushing. Trisha started to step forward. As she took that step, Mihai made her move, her hand reaching out, gripping Trisha's arm, forcing the woman to a jolting halt. Trisha whipped her head around, perplexed.

Asotos looked up, surprised. What was this all about? He smiled when observing the consternation on Mihai's face.

Mihai did not hesitate. Squeezing Trisha's arm, signaling her to stop, Mihai stepped out in front of her people. Looking directly at Asotos, she mustered up her courage, nearly shouting, "Too important is this day for lieutenants to debate what leaders should carry out. It is better that chiefs should discuss these future fates of men and nations. Come, let us hold moot, you and me."

Silence! Complete silence! Even the whispering breeze fell away to nothing while shocked faces screamed out disbelief. Hands involuntarily flew to mouths agape, while some people stepped back as if warding off a blow. Asotos did not flinch, slowly raising an eyebrow while studying the trapped pigeon opposing him. He smiled to himself. She was closer to the edge than he had expected. Now to push her over it...

Mihai's heart began to ache with remorse, waiting for Asotos to reply. He just stood there, staring, saying nothing. Nothing! And Mihai could do nothing but watch matters unfold. She had changed procedures, broken protocol. Now she must wait silently to see if the opposing side would accept her proposal. The remorse in the her heart turned to panic as she recalled Trisha's warning words that had sounded in her head at the last council meeting. 'Be silent and your sister may live.'

What had Trisha known that she was unable to see? What power in this universe led her to disregard Mother's counsel? Why did she believe that her wisdom was greater than the Maker of Worlds? Was all hope lost? Could this day be saved? What could she do to correct matters? Nothing! Nothing could be done. Trisha was driven from the proceedings with no hope of a return. Mihai had tendered the offer to the League's ruler. It was Asotos' choice whether he would accept it or not.

Sinister sniggering echoed in the back of Mihai's head. 'Remember? Remember? Yes, little foolish thing, do you remember now? Our party...our fun, little party? Done just for you, it was. It was.' Maniacal laughter erupted, gradually drifting away quietly while stirring up old memories.

Another voice crashed upon Mihai's mind, shattering all hope within her - Legion's powerful voice like raging waves upon a tortured shore. "Does the fly dare speak to the spider? What does this insect want? Answer, for to me you shall make reply."

Mihai looked over to see a broad grin growing on Legion's face. He took a half step forward, his grin turning into an angry frown. "Deceit and treachery are the foul odors I smell! We have not come here to discuss or debate matters! A party is not in our making this day, or the love from beast or demon! Go back to your thorny pillow and recall your dastardly deeds committed against all living kind. Then you will know why you have come here this hour."

The indignation in Legion's voice carried a musical lilt that bored deep into Mihai's subconscious, awaking within her mind words spoken far in the past and the real meaning of the man's cryptic words. 'Deceit and treachery, foul odors and the love from beast and demon... Go back to your thorny pillow and recall dastardly deeds committed against you this hour.'

It was as if the chimes of Gradian's Clock rang loud upon Mihai's ears, the same as it had done those several millennia ago when, at that very instant, all the demon hosts of the Underworld tore her apart. The woman's head began to twirl in dizzying confusion, her heart falling into painful palpitations at recalling that sordid moment. With a cry, she reached up, clutching her head, collapsing onto her knees, her helmet tumbling from her head as she fell forward on her hands in uncontrolled vomiting.

Trisha stepped up to Mihai's side, bending down to place a hand on her shoulder. Planetee started to move forward, but thought better of it, watching the field marshal closely. Mihai paid little heed to anyone. Too sick she was to notice the world around her, and too weak to fight off the demon's onslaught within.

'It's come to this! To this! What you deserve! What you deserve! Evil you are, always have been. Now go to the damned, as you so deserve! So deserve! Leave us go! Leave us go, evil thing, back to our master who is so near to us. Go to our master and obey his voice so that we may leave your wretchedness!'

Mihai struggled to retain any sanity, her head throbbing with a blinding ache. All the while the ghosts of Christmas past tormented her with visions of blood and gore, rape and humiliation, betrayal and hopelessness. Garish faces screamed obscenities as ghoulish mouths, ever hungry, went about biting and chewing on skin and muscle. Nearby, deformed kelpie with jackals' heads, ridden by headless wraiths, pranced about a raging blaze, the beasts crying out, 'Leave us poorly ones a morsel for our feasts, and saves its flesh so that we may satisfies our lust.'

The haunting demons in Mihai's head were ever pressing in to destroy her sanity. As hard as she struggled to resist, the woman found no power within strong enough to hold back these forces of evil.

"My Lord..." Trisha bent low, squeezing Mihai's shoulder while offering whatever assistance possible.

The churlish tone of Trisha's voice grated on Mihai. "Get away from me!" she angrily choked, jerking her shoulder to free it of the woman's grasp. "Leave me go! Get!" she sputtered, while wiping vomit from her mouth.

Oh, such an evil cure, but it worked. Mihai had forgotten about her demons, they quickly melting back into the shadows. The spell was broken, and would not return. Those beastly demons quietly faded into the forgetful gloom, Mihai's burning hatred for some other foe extinguishing their power. Although not knowing it yet, Asotos' little scheme had failed, shattered by the touch of another even more contemptible creature...at least to Mihai. He had envisioned contending with a broken mind filled with insane delirium. Now that mind, still confused and desperate, was focused on the enemy in her midst. Asotos' glory was already diminishing.

Trisha had supposed there might well be a subliminal attack made upon Mihai this day, and was prepared to take whatever blow necessary in order to break its spell. Well, her plan had worked, oh, but at such a cost to heart! 'All for the better,' Trisha thought as she fought down an urge to weep. She quietly stood back, saying nothing.

Anna moved in quickly to lend support as Mihai struggled to stand, assisting her as best she could. Abandoning her chunder-laden helmet to the desert sands, she struggled to her feet on wobbly legs. She thanked Anna for her kindly service, while attempting to ignore the creature standing her other side, and faced Legion.
Now Mihai must pay the piper. Since she had broken official protocol by seeking a parley with Asotos instead of offering such a suggestion through her herald, Asotos could change the procedural policy to suit his whim. It was obvious that he was not going to enter the conversation, at least at this time. Legion was now elevated to archon, or Mihai demoted to herald. Either way, she was greatly diminished in the eyes of her adversaries, thus forcing lopsided negotiations, ending in her surrendering up the greater of the prizes to win her people back, that is, if she could gain their release at all.

Wiping a hand across her mouth, Mihai stared forlorn into Legion's face. Looking a pitiable sight, she could only imagine what her adversary was thinking. She was not kept waiting long.

Legion's face contorted in a condescending sneer while his eyes laughed haughtily. Silently he stood there, contemplating this frightful-looking waif, hair and face befouled with filth, a sickly, pallid face, and standing on wobbly legs. What he could not see was Mihai's powerful inner strength, and that her horrid visions had vanished. She was still a very dangerous adversary. What he did know, had witnessed countless times over the ages was Mihai's impetuous unpredictability. Indeed, he planned for her unpredictability, wanted to use it to his advantage, had used it to his advantage many times. The woman was already stretched and with a very unwelcome ally at her side. The water was already risen to gush forth. Legion need only keep the pump primed until just the right moment and then...and then...

Trisha spoke not a word, but remained close, much to Mihai's consternation. The watchman stood the ramparts because she also understood Mihai's state of mind. She, too, waited upon the moment, but in her bosom was carried the fire of righteous indignation. These beast-men standing before her were the demons personified of her old world. Death was too generous a gift for them! Today notice was being given that the hammers forged in Hell's earthly depths were being visited upon them here, in their heavenly abode. Quiet is the adder waiting to strike, shrewd the second mouse, and deadliest the lightning that strikes from the blue. Trisha silently watched, waiting.

Legion finally stepped forward, frowning, lifting a hand to speak. His voice was clear, its tone condescending. "Shame you have delivered here this day, on us and on our sacred customs. Why has it come to this? Now you must surrender up to the new order of things, bow down to them. Give us the honor and respect our nation deserves."

Legion's cryptic message hidden in his words was, 'Shame you have delivered on sacred customs. Why? Now surrender to the New Order. Bow down. Give us the honor deserved.'

Surprised Legion was when he noticed no reaction from Mihai. Silently she stood there, staring at the man, barely comprehending his words, her mind so filled with anger and frustration over having this contemptible creature refusing to leave her side. He puzzled, wondering why this second attack had no effect. He stole a glance toward Asotos, his eyes asking what to do now.

Asotos was also surprised at not seeing Mihai collapse to the ground in uncontrolled, sick despair. Had his agent failed to successfully plant the subliminal triggers in the woman's mind to set her off when Legion delivered his messages? He eyed that person with increasing anger. Payment for such failure would be made. He would not forget. His eyes replied to Legion's question, signaling that he go on with proceedings.

Legion smiled wryly, proffering offense, "Very well. Seeing that you offer no reply at the moment, we will move on to the point of our business this day. But first," he shook his finger at Mihai, "let me make this perfectly clear. We have expended a great deal of energy and experienced personal loss, and extended undeserved mercy upon these interloping miscreants whom you call your fellows. Had it not been for our willingness to deal with the Stasis - something your people refuse to do - I doubt any of this rabble would still live."

He glared at Mihai, waiting for reply to his goading words.

Mihai was furious. She knew all too well the treachery committed against her imprisoned brothers and sisters, personally witnessed the contrived deviltry involved in accomplishing those dastardly acts, and she knew that they knew... had her blood samples to prove her spying on them. Yet what was there for it? If she charged them with such acts of villainy, would it gain rescue of her people? No, more likely it would get them killed, or worse, sent back to the Stasis Pirates. The woman's hand was forced. She had spilt her cards before sitting at the table and now must play by her opponent's rules - rules made while the game was being played and upon the fleeting whim of a ruthless antagonist.

Mihai signaled her recognition of the League of Brother's sacrifice by slowly bowing her head, offering, "Whatever you have done to obtain the release of our brothers is understood with our heartfelt appreciation." She nearly heaved again at the thought of those words, but quickly recovering, went on. "We have gathered here today to make reasonable exchange for the ones we value, both yours and mine."

Legion angrily snarled his rebuke when Mihai referred to the prisoners she was delivering. "We do not barter for the flesh and spirit of those kidnapped by your thievery! They will be handed over to us with your apologies and the begging of our forgiveness, or..." he lifted a hand, extending a finger, "or there shall be no further apposition this day. Choose for yourself the fate of your fellows."

Mihai might well have been impetuous and at times careless in deed and action, but the woman was not dimwitted. Long she had played the riddling games of her people. Were not these negotiations little more than those same mind games, built on those very foundations? To solve a riddle, one must find the hidden meaning, the unspoken word, and the silent implication. To win this argument, one must create the uncertainty and invent the implication, not for the person being contended against, but for those observing the game, for implication may well reveal secrets of the heart that have far-reaching effects for others concerned.

Mihai cocked her head to the left, raising an eyebrow, squinting. Something was amiss. Legion's face clouded with uncertainty. He had overreached his hand but did not yet know in what way. His threat should have the woman quailing and begging his reconsideration, quickly followed by the deepest of apologies and an offer for a quick release of prisoners. The man quietly held his breath in anticipation of what possible blow the woman might deliver.

"So..." Mihai drew out the word then raised her voice for all those nearby to hear, "if the noble and righteous of your nation are so valueless in your eyes so as to surrender them back to the stink holes to which they rightfully belong, for them to await a fate of our choosing, then what is the value in your eyes of the common soldier who guards your back with his very life? Say the word and we shall depart this wretched planet, leaving it to you and your ilk, taking home with us those who should have been cast in the fires long ago. Better their riddance! Give our kind back to the Stasis. The Wildcatters shall gladly trade with them for the release of our fellows with the goods intended for barter this day. For barter goods are the only value you place on your kind."

The Pseudes soldiers within hearing distance stood alert, uncertainty growing in their breasts while wondering what Legion would say in defense of this questioning accusation.

Legion's face reddened in angry frustration. He was backed into a corner, and could think of nothing to counter with, other than he blurted out, "We do not barter for the lives of our people! Free of chattel they must be delivered into our hands!"

"Nor will we barter for the souls of ours," Mihai quietly replied.

"So then give us our people, and let us be done with it!" Legion argued, holding his temper in check.

Mihai glared into Legion's face, smiling, her eyes betraying her inner, boiling hatred. "In due time...in due time..." she softly responded. "But first tell me, please, do you intend to remain and parley until proceedings are finished, or will you abandon your people to the likes of my kind to be dealt with as we see fit? Should you threaten your departing one more time, we shall oblige you to your fate, and they" she motioned with her head toward the wagons, "to theirs."

Legion was pressed up against a wall with no reply to offer. The tables were now turned, Mihai's questions putting Legion on the defensive by implying that he regarded his imprisoned brothers to be of lesser value than even chattel, his personal pride of greater worth, which was true. Now he must defend himself against such a charge while attempting to maintain the moral high ground. His words carried the same weight of archon. They were as if spoken by Asotos, himself. He did not want to raise that man's ire by fouling up his plans.

Asotos was displeased with the way things were developing, and was very disappointed with Legion. "Stupid ass! Is there no wisdom in my land?" It was true, Mihai was supposed to be down by now or at best, befuddled and confused. That was not the case, yet Legion should have prepared for such a possibility. Truth be told, even Asotos was not prepared for it. Mihai was still up for the fight, quick of wit and feisty, turning Legion's own declaration against him by raising doubt among the soldiers regarding his fealty toward them. Legion had blundered his way into this dilemma, and now Asotos must bail the fool out.

A prearranged signal alerted Legion to Asotos' desire for a private moot. The moot was accepted protocol, but rarely done under these circumstances, or this early in the proceedings because of the message it sent to others. Asotos took a great risk seeking a conversation with his herald at this moment. It might imply some weakness in his argument, but he felt the risk worth taking. He would have Legion feign excuse regarding some technical misstep or perceived offense on their opponent's part, and then turn the tables by accusing Mihai of some inappropriate action.

Legion motioned that he wished to speak with his archon, finally replying to Mihai, "I smell deceit in your words, and shall gather in conference with the lord of this people." Truth be told, Legion was loath to publicly speak of Asotos as his lord, and only when pressed would do so. Yes, he accepted him as his captain, but he refused to worship anyone other than himself. At that, Legion turned to Asotos, the two men stepping back in private consultation.

The gist of Asotos' counsel was simple: give no room for their opponent to gain the upper hand; keep her constantly on the defensive; and, most importantly, stall for time, drag proceedings out. The day was long, its heat growing in intensity. Though Mihai's mind might remain clear, her physical constitution was already in question. Press her to the breaking point of the flesh, and heart and mind would soon follow.

Legion returned to face Mihai, loudly declaring, "You have misapplied the meaning of my words as we find to be your custom." He waited for response. Mihai gave him none, so Legion continued. "We have no intention of abandoning our brothers to the Children of Evil this day or any day. We do not leave our dead and wounded behind, though we have witnessed that it is a common practice of our adversary. 'No man left behind, living or dead'. That is our motto, our soul, our devotion."

Mihai was angry, aware that Legion referred to the many dead and wounded abandoned on the field in front of Memphis. He was the man responsible for the torture of the wounded, and it was he who forbid them gathering up their dead without another fight, though Mihai often wondered if she could have done more to gain their retrieval. But she would not allow the heartache of that day nor her seething contempt for this murdering liar to threaten the future release of her brothers. Legion was goading her. She must goad him.

Looking down the line of Asotos' neatly attired soldiers, she addressed Legion. "Empty words to fill hopeful minds... Countless are the bodies of marine and sailor you have abandoned to the emptiness of space, having failed to take the time to gather the brave and valiant who died for your cause in the day of great battle, the Day of Tears, you caring not enough to have even one of your emissaries approach our councils to request a sojourn into our territories to retrieve their remains."

Legion fumed, raising a hand to make retort.

Mihai stopped him, brushing aside any future discussion of this matter. "We have not come across this great distance in time and space to debate the rituals practiced for the dead. You have not yet made reply to my question. Do you intend to remain and parley until proceedings are finished, and your and my people are returned to their brothers?"

Clenching a fist and shaking it, Legion spat, "We will not leave until our business is finished!"

Mihai smiled motherly, "You still have not answered my question. Is your mind too simple to grasp it? If so, ask your scholarly counselors for an explanation."

The look on Legion's face revealed his hatred for this insolent creature. In his world, no one dared raise a voice to him in question or rebuttal. Here, this woman had the audacity to openly castigate him with insinuation and insult! Oh, how he wanted to scream out for his guards to cut her down along with all her rabble, something he might well have attempted if Asotos had not earlier warned him against doing such a thing.

Forcing his outrage into submission, Legion quietly answered, "As I have already stated, we will remain here until the hostage issue has been fully settled to the satisfaction of everyone involved."

"Does that also include my people?" Mihai calmly asked. "You are referring to a two way exchange, correct?"

Frustration filled Legion's reply, realizing the woman refused to proceed until he was clear on the matter. "Yes! Yes, of course...until the exchange is complete both ways, both ways!"

Smelling a rat, Mihai wished to press Legion on this matter, but thought better of it. The day was getting along, and she wanted to rescue her brothers and sisters as quickly as possible in order to prevent any added suffering they must be enduring. "Very well..."

Legion interrupted, changing the subject in an attempt to regain the upper hand. "What have you delivered here that you believe is of such worth to be able to compensate my people for all the risk and expense of obtaining the release of your fellows? My people deserve that reward, seeing it was not an affair of theirs, but done out of pity and concern for those considering them their enemy."

Mihai frowned, asking, "Why do we not release the prisoners first before discussing such trivial matters? We have not shipped these valuable goods across countless star systems to find excuse to have them reloaded on our transports. We'll offer them all to you in good time, but first we desire to conclude the business of exchanging our brothers."

Legion burst forth with vile, foul curses and oaths against Mihai and her kind. "Lies, deceit and treachery, that is all one can expect from this she-beast...from any she-beast! 'Come, my dear Azazel, and we shall walk beneath the morning sun to view the radiant blue of the heavens against the lush greenery of the fields and orchards below.'" Legion swept his hand high as his eyes scanned the faces of his loyal guards and dignitaries.

Turning his attention back to Mihai, he shook an accusative finger at her, crying, "Were these not the very words used by RaphaelNohaseiChee to lure the man, my close companion, Azazel, up to Drissamore's heights, to there murder him by casting him to the rocks far below? And then that very same she-beast spread a falsehood of evil accusations against that most innocent of men so that his name came to be ostracized down to this day even among his brothers!"

He raised his arms high, waving them frantically, shouting out in angry desperation, "Men! Brothers, has not the treachery and deceit of the she-beasts been manifest to our kind over and over against us? The Gemini...twin sisters, Sarah and Tarsha...how many of our innocent brothers did their assassin's arrows murder? And then there were SonaFeuatee, UrielZoeFitinna, GynnaSonnahFae, and HannahPfienah, all deceitful, murdering she-beasts, and these to only mention a few of their wicked kind!

"Men! Brothers!" Legion again pointed his finger at Mihai. "Before us stands the most treacherous and wicked of all the she-beasts! Warped and demented it is, always seeking vengeance for imagined wrongs, raising high the offense for trivial indiscretions, and waging war against innocent people over tiny misunderstandings. Do you believe it can be trusted to deliver to us the promised goods after we have surrendered to it all that it desires?"

Everyone in Asotos' camp began to rant and curse Mihai, Lowenah, and all the children faithfully standing Lowenah's side. Pounding fists upon shield and armor, they cried out angry chants to leave this retched place after taking back their imprisoned brothers by force. Louder and louder, the ravings of the incensed crowd grew, all the while Legion wagging his finger in Mihai's face. Mihai and her people remained silent, no one moving.

At length, Legion raised his hand to quiet his people. When the raucous noise subsided, he asked Mihai, "What say you, oh harlot beast-woman, shall we take our people and go home or will you prove to us that for once you speak with a truthful mouth? Show my people what you have delivered here to compensate them for all their sacrifice and diligent efforts."

Much to Legion's disappointment, Mihai did not respond in kind, nor did she attempt a military coup. She was terribly distraught, the rules of protocol providing for no other person to confer with her other than her herald, and Trisha was not on her list of accepted counselors. How her heart ached for Gabrielle. What was she to do?

So much Mihai wanted to know that her comrades were still alive, wanted to see them, yet she knew it would be an impossibility to gain that success until Legion's current charges were addressed. At the same time, if she gave away all her bartering chips to pacify Legion, he or Asotos might very well renege on releasing the hostages. Mihai needed some assurance, some way to keep the few cards remaining available to her.

Mihai lifted a hand, palm out. "There is no need for violence. Remember, the soldiers with me are not innocent as to the arts of war. Many would be those on both sides not returning to home and hearth should such a contest be pressed, and there are some here who would be guaranteed to fall forever dead if swords were drawn." She paused, giving Legion a piercing stare. "Other solutions there are. Allow me to suggest such a one."

Understanding Mihai's message was not a threat, and recognizing the likelihood of his demise if fighting broke out at the moment, Legion agreed to listen to his opponent.

Mihai offered, "You say that my brothers live and are as well as may be. Then I suggest that you deliver up Kutill the Younger, captain of Zephath, and allow him to testify to the truthfulness of your words. I, for my part, shall allow you to select a fellow of your choosing to come forth and declare the same for you. Upon seeing that all is as has been presented, then we shall discuss the exchange of goods for your services."

Legion broke into a self-righteous tirade that consumed several long minutes but, in the end, agreed to allow Captain Kutill to be brought out to within hailing distance, Mihai agreeing to deliver one of their prisoners the same way. Legion chose to have Salak Taqadam for him to speak with. In time, the two men, both manacled at the wrists and ankles, stood in the desert sands at each one's respective hailing distance.

Captain Kutill looked a sight, a tattered uniform little more than shreds, cuts and bruises that had not been tended, a blackened face with one eye swollen shut, his stature revealing the man to be in a great deal of pain. This was in complete contrast to Salak's appearance. He was dressed in fresh, clean garments, appearing well-nourished and rested. Though also manacled, his hands were at his front instead of behind him, and the cuffs lined with a soft fiber to prevent bruising his flesh.

Legion spoke with Salak at length, the man going on for the greatest time about all the sorry mistreatment he and his fellows had received, and how his appearance was little more than a pretense to cover up the mental and emotional tortures they had been forced to endure. Eventually, his malcontent exhausted for lack of further vocabulary, Salak finished.

After sufficient complaint on Legion's part, Mihai was allowed to hear from Captain Kutill. He painted a much more disturbing picture, using innuendo and allusive comments, fearing additional abuses for his fellow hostages should he speak too freely concerning the torture, rape, and murders practiced against his people. Legion quickly cut the conversation short, stating the need to finish the day's activities. Kutill was hurried away by the guards, being almost dragged along, writhing in pain at the forced pace.

After both Kutill and Salak were returned to their holding areas, Legion demanded to have payment for the rescue of Mihai's people delivered over to them for examination. Mihai knew better than to do such a thing, answering his request by stating, "It is not only the she-beast that has disappointed. Many are the he-beasts who have raped and murdered my kind for sport and conquest, the one I am looking at being foremost among them."

Legion became enraged, recoiling at such an insult while defending his honor. He decried accusations being levied against him and his other fellows while on this diplomatic mission, threatening to close proceedings and leave at that very moment.

"Bull- _shit!_ " Mihai retorted abrasively. "Your men would skin you alive if you abandoned your brothers, and all...all the wonderful presents we have promised because of some imagined insult to you...words that they know to be absolutely true! You have tortured, murdered, raped, and abused the children of both worlds over these many millennia, clear down to this day. Your closest lover, Ishtar, you murdered in a jealous, drunken rage, then publicly desecrated her by dismembering the woman's lifeless body and feeding it to the lake monsters. Then you lifted her up to godhood by making your people worship her image. This you did in front of the eyes of all, many of them standing here this day. Your robes of sainthood are dripping with the blood of the innocent, both of your kind and mine!"

Legion was nearly frothing at the mouth, in a growing rage. What might he have done if Asotos - who was actually quite amused that his herald was contending poorly against this mere woman creature – had not coughed at that very moment? Remembering his place, and the fear of what might become of him should he gather the wrath of the King of the Wraiths, he settled down, bringing his anger under control.

Still seething, Legion demanded Mihai apologize. "Get down on your knees and beg the forgiveness of this crowd of innocents who have had to witness your abhorrent behavior and endure your contemptible speech, so that their honor may be redeemed!"

Mihai's heart was racing, in fear that she may have reached too far with her last comment. Although every word of it was true, protocol was still in order, and she had seriously violated it. The twisting of truth and abuse of protocol was commonplace for Asotos' people, but if their opponents did the same, the consequences might be catastrophic. The woman failed to ponder the reason why Asotos was not pursuing some kind of official redress, which would have been his usual stance, failed to ponder why he was holding back. Instead, the woman attempted to reconcile the moment in order to put negotiations back on track.

Mihai extended her hands. "I will surrender up my apologies to any of your people who are innocent of my accusations, and I will recognize my overstepping of diplomatic protocol. It does not serve any of us to resurrect what lies buried in the past while the heat of the day presses us to conclude our current business soon. Shall we be on with it?"

Legion fumed, complaining at length about Mihai's mistreatment of him and his people. Finally, he settled down to issues at hand, demanding payment for their services.

Mihai stopped him. "You have not stated a specific price, nor do you know what we have brought with us. Shall you then first state a price, or do you wish to hear our offer?"

Legion retorted, "Whatever you have delivered here is not worth half the value of our risk and effort! There is no price that can be placed on the lives of my people who sacrificed all to rescue their enemies from the hands of wild madmen. That said, we will have you tell us first what pathetic items you have brought to us to make partial payment."

"Very well, then." Mihai began.

It hurt the loyal children of Lowenah to hear of the beautiful treasures being offered to these miscreants for the return of their dear brothers and sisters who were kidnapped by these villainous scoundrels. Many an eye welled up with tears as Mihai listed off those precious items that caring hands had labored so hard to produce.

"There are aged liquors and wines from the cellars of Medeba, gems and diamonds from the mines of TilgathPilneser, silks from Ecbatana and crafted by KerenHappuch's own hands, the purest of chrysolite from the deep mines of Chrusion, blackened teakwood from the ancient forest of EthoHule..."

These were only the beginning of a long list of goods being offered up to the League of Brothers for the safe return of Mihai's people. Many were the barter goods mentioned. Legion's eyes betrayed his lusting desire to have these priceless riches. Why, among the crafted items of stone, gold, silver, and other precious materials were individual pieces worth more than a king's ransom! Yet here they were all being delivered into greedy hands for the release of some very dear companions.

At long last, Mihai came to the final offering. She turned and signaled someone near the rear of the wagon train, and then turned again to face Legion. "And from the fields of LathraNesion..." she waited, sweeping her arm back as a rider on a saddled horse strode into sight from behind the last wagon, "three times twelve of the finest KaminosKtisis to be found in the galaxy."

(Author's note: _'KaminosKtisis' was the technical name given to the genetically engineered hybrid geldings used by both sides during the age-long wars. Originally produced to withstand the rigors of space exploration, this adaptation of the horse proved_ _itself so useful in harsh and exhausting situations that it eventually outnumbered the true equus caballus for such work. Those same outstanding qualities made it a valuable warhorse and beast of burden. The KaminosKtisis that came from LathraNesion were the very finest of all the KaminosKtisis ever produced, their breeding and distribution personally controlled by Lowenah. Only as a gift could anyone obtain one of Mother's wonderful creations, and only by permission of the animal could it be mounted and ridden._

_... It was said that somewhere, deep in the Nebulan Cloud Bank, there existed the secret planet of LathraNesion. Tolohe spoke of it in ancient song, telling stories of its immense oceans of grasses, endless forests of hardwoods and dark evergreens, and its countless crystal-clear freshwater lakes and streams. It was PalaHar who hinted to Mihai that Gabrielle was born there, and was delivered to their world after the Darkness arrived. Fables aside, the land of myth, LathraNesion, did exist, and the delivery of Lowenah's KaminosKtisis was proof of it_.)

An audible cry of wonder filled the air when Asotos' people saw these magnificent animals trot into view. LathraNesion was the 'land of wonder', a mystery world belonging to Lowenah, a world of fantasy visited by only a very few, and that many long ages ago.

It was heartbreaking for Lowenah's children to know these wondrous steeds were to be handed over to their murderous brothers. The animals were Mother's personal gift provided to help secure the release of her children so dearly loved. Only days before the company departed EdenEsonbar, report was made that some silver ships had silently settled down beyond the hills of the city. Soon these three dozen equine were being loaded aboard transports departing for the prisoner exchange.

A half dozen riders drove the KaminosKtisis out to an open space to the left and behind Mihai. A weary smile grew on her face as she watched the greedy gazes cast upon those majestic creatures. Possibly things could be hurried along now. The sooner she could get her people returned, the happier she would be.

Legion began to quibble about the paltry amount of reward offered, this despite almost wetting himself at the possibility of having one of those KaminosKtisis for his own. Mihai argued that the amount provided was worth a thousand years of tribute to the grandest of rulers. Still, Legion could not be made to budge regarding his accusative questions concerning the goods' value.

Mihai knew well the proverb, 'To buy a rich man, offer him power. To buy a powerful man, offer him riches. To buy a powerful, rich man, offer him glory that is beyond his own reach.'

Raising her hand as her face clouded in disgust, Mihai caustically rebuffed Legion's complaints. "Then we shall take back the prizes offered and give them to the Stasis, ourselves, for payment to wage war against you for a return of our kindred. What matters to whom the payment should go, or of what care is it to us should the blood of our enemy be poured out against another of our enemy, if it is done to accomplish our purpose? Prepare for death and slaughter at the hands of those who will conclude that our gifts are of greater worth to them than any alliance or treaty with you."

At that, she ordered her attendants to return the KaminosKtisis to the rear of the train.

Legion nearly squealed like a stuck pig, "No! No, we have not rejected your offer! Wait, there has been a misunderstanding."

"What is the misunderstanding that you are referring to?" Mihai asked wryly. "It is not a misunderstanding on our part, is it? Speak honestly, or all this treasure will be lost to you."

Mihai had put everything on the table, played all her cards. Legion knew this, but could do little about it. With all his cajoling and badgering, the woman had not yet taken the bait. He had not been able to provoke her into a fight. Even worse, she was making him appear the fool! Now, again, she was representing him as the recusant one, unyielding and obstinate. Oh, how he hated this creature! How much he wanted to tear her eyes from their sockets and rip the tongue from her mouth! He must bide his time though, bide his time... Give it rest, calm down...

Taking a deep breath and releasing it in a long sigh, Legion nodded apologetically, "Yes, a misunderstanding on...on...on my part," quickly adding, "I must take this matter up with the lord of the land. After all, it is to him that all this treasure belongs." Soon the two men were in deep, private discussion.

Legion hated making his last statement, not wanting Asotos to become too possessive of the day's treasures. After all, he had done a great deal of the work and deserved reasonable compensation. A KaminosKtisis or two would be fine...for starters. Yet how else could he have saved face? If he openly apologized for his actions then, oh, the shame! Never! By deferring to his archon, stating it was Asotos' decision to accept the reward given, he would merely have to admit that he was correcting an overlooked minor detail of protocol and was acknowledging that little indiscretion.

Asotos was pleased with the overall situation, although he was not happy with the antics of his herald. But what else could he expect? Always father to the childish, little younglings... The same as the others, Legion would never grow up, never become wise and insightful like him. How could the man? After all, Asotos had tasted the hidden powers of the Upper Palace, knew how to tap into their energy. For countless ages, he had tunneled deep into the butte beneath, in search of the energy's source. Then, when he believed his quest was nearly accomplished, the evil witch, Erithia, cast him from his home.

For the longest time, the two men huddled in quiet conference, each occasionally looking toward the horses or wagons. When that occurred, their gestures and animated conversation would wax into a crescendo of apparent debate, gradually ebbing until another glance was taken at some desired treasure.

The reality was that Legion and Asotos were stalling for time, seeking to wear Mihai down physically. Already the woman's unprotected head was burning from the scorching sun. Although she had sipped some water, it was not enough to slake her thirst. Her stomach was still agitated, a nauseous feeling ever present, along with an overall weakness in body and limbs. And, as Asotos had calculated, the woman was also growing weary in mind and spirit. She was simply tiring out.

The hour was already well past noon when Legion turned his attention back to Mihai. He stood close, raising a hand while shaking his head. "Small are the treasures of reparations that you deliver here, but..." he paused for effect, "but we are willing to take them into consideration. Bring them here to us so that we may examine them first. Then we will decide if it is enough in compensation for our sacrifice."

Mihai may have been tiring, but her wits were not fully departed. She shook her head in disagreement. "That will not do at all! Do I open the cage on the bird's promise that it will not fly away?"

Anger clouded Legion's face.

Before he could reply, Mihai motioned with raised hand, "I suggest that you take a dozen trusted men of yours and have them come here and make a search of what we have brought. Let them deliver into your hands certain items that you may scrutinize, so that you may see we are speaking truth to you of their value and quantity and make reply whether it is good or bad. Then we shall exchange our peoples and depart, leaving to you all that we have promised."

Legion was not pleased but, fearing the wrath of his own impatient soldiers and having no way to counter Mihai's reasoning, he relented, choosing twelve trusted men to search thoroughly and make full report. Off the men went in a rush, rummaging wagons, crates, barrels and boxes. More than one wine flask was opened to taste the purity of the sweet Medeba blend, more than one round of cheese sliced up to sample its aged perfection, more than one bowl of fine pipe-weed puffed to verify its proper curing. All the while, someone or other would take a treasure over to Legion and Asotos for them to make personal examination.

Long into the afternoon hours, this searching and rummaging went on. It was disheartening enough to watch these hoodlums pawing through all these things, but to have these same people who were luxuriating in the articles discovered and becoming intoxicated over the good drink to speak so disparagingly about their quality and quantity was nearly too much to bear for many of Lowenah's people. At last, when the sun was hurriedly searching for the western horizon, Asotos and Legion called an end to their investigation.

Slowly, Legion approached Mihai. Holding a bolt of the finest of woven silk, he sadly shook his head. "What has your world come to?" Looking into Mihai's face, he continued, "This rubbish you are offering to us, why, these are no better than the goods the traders try to pawn off on Outlanders when they come to barter their furs and mined treasures! What has come of your people? Is this the best they can any longer produce since evil intent has deprived them of their great minds and leaders?"

(Author's note: _'Outlander' was a term used by the League of Brothers to describe any people populating distant and/or inhospitable star-systems who lived by their own set of laws and rules and swore no loyalty to either the League of Brothers or the Children's Empire. These included the Stasis Pirates and other sometimes wildly independent peoples residing in the fringe territories. For Mihai's people, the Stasis Pirates were mortal enemies of the Children's Empire but concerning other more peaceable people, the general term 'Wildcatters' defined them_.)

Mihai knew she was being goaded into committing some regrettable act. She refused to fall victim to it. The hour was late and the lives of her brothers and sisters were at stake. These priceless items being squabbled over were mere refuse compared to her loved ones held captive.

Humbly nodding her head, Mihai somberly answered, "We have delivered to you the very best our hands can now produce. Whether or not they can serve your needs is not within my ability to discern. All the day you may raise complaint, but none better will you ever find come from us."

Legion was now at a loss for words. The quality of these goods far surpassed anything his people currently manufactured except, possibly, for a select few of the highly skilled. He feared continued complaint might cost them these very precious treasures.

His long face shook slow and sad. "It is understandable that your kind have come to this. I and my people do have heart and understanding...pity for those weaker of mind and spirit. Seeing that this is your very best, as a caring father to a dull-witted child unable to do better, I will accept for the League of Brothers all these stuffs, including the fine stallions as payment for the sacrifice and labors of my people in order to secure the safe release of your fellows. Bring us the goods, and then the exchange of our kindred can be made."

Mihai angrily snapped back, "No! Your people have snooped, pawed, and burrowed their way through all the gifts offered you. They know to the handbreadth and pennyweight every last item we have brought with us. The quality and quantity...including every morsel chewed and glass drunk...of everything delivered here is inscribed in their notebooks. The horses have been poked, probed, and possibly humped by your people. They know exactly what we have provided. Deliver to us now our people and we shall do the same for you. We will then depart, leaving you all these spoils to fight over."

Legion said nothing, but deferred to Asotos. Asotos smiled. Mihai was stretched thin. He could tell by her latest reply. Now was the time to finish springing the trap. Nodding his approval, he motioned for Legion to proceed. In only moments, guards in both camps were scurrying to gather up the prisoners in preparation for their release.

Mihai's anger was nearing its boiling point. Long forgotten was her nagging thirst and queasy stomach. The growing fury welling up within her breasts over the abysmal condition of her imprisoned brothers and sisters was the only feeling her senses could gather up and deliver to her mind. These were not deeds done by the brutish hands of the degenerate Stasis. They might well torture, rape and murder out of revenge, hatred, or for the momentary gratification of some carnal instinct, but not on a scale of this magnitude or at this level of viciousness.

The growing collection of torn and ruined bodies being presented to Mihai's people was the deliberate handiwork of pathological, psychoneurotic sociopaths. The Stasis had demented minds that made them act like rabid beasts, carrying out their evil more from instinct than premeditation. The people who purposefully carried out these horrendous acts had deranged hearts and decaying souls. No longer was there any decency remaining within them. Even foggy recollections of goodness and morality were long departed their memory.

When Mihai saw a guard stop the lead hostage, forcing him down on his knees to wait for the others to arrive, she shouted orders to not allow any of Asotos' people to cross over into his camp, stopping them directly behind the front line of her soldiers. She was now paying no heed to her antagonists, her full attention focused on the hostages assembling in front of her.

Trisha was not distracted. In fact, she had half expected to see this present reality, expected to see even worse. Stepping up close to Mihai's side while intently observing events unfold, she watched Legion and Asotos very slowly backing away until they both stood behind several heavily armed guards. They were preparing for something, and that something they must be expecting to come from her people.

Seeing only the suffering of her brothers and sisters, Mihai was unable to grasp what she was witnessing, that random acts of loathsome beast-men bereft of heart and soul could not account for the devastation of bodies and minds but were part of a well-orchestrated scheme with a more sinister purpose. That was what Trisha believed, indeed, had anticipated.

Scanning the maddening scene around her, the field marshal sighed under her breath, "So it has come to pass. Hell is delivered to Heaven's heights. Look and see, I am Death, Destruction my lover. Today I set the universe ablaze. Phoenix will burn, and the gods will bow low to the Children of Damnation."

Crying aloud as tears welled up in her eyes, Mihai demanded that her people be released to them. "There is no reason to keep them any longer! Here are your kind. Now hand over to us ours!"

Legion raised his hand, shaking his head, "Patience, patience... We will deliver them over to you when all have arrived. First you must see we are true to our word and that we will hand over all who wish to return to you."

Mihai continued to argue to have the hostages released. Legion became angry, stating, "Many times have our sacred protocols been broken this day, your apologies providing proof of your sins regarding this. Our custom has always been to release our prisoners at one time. That is what we intend to do also this day."

Sighs and groans from Mihai's crowd rent the air when one of the hostage women was dragged some distance in the sand after she had collapsed. It was obvious she was suffering a dislocated shoulder along with a broken arm. Asotos' guards paid no attention to the woman's cries as they yanked her up by her manacled hands, screaming for her to stand.

Mihai's right hand twitched, as if searching for something to grasp while with curses and oaths she shouted at Legion, "Stop such travesties!"

Trisha watched a twinkling glint flash across the man's eyes just before he raised a hand, directing his soldiers to assist the woman along. The guard holding the chain that bound the woman gave one more quick yank before obeying, the other guards with him laughing as he did so.

Legion dallied by delivering the captives to the staging area one at a time, leaving the others to wait aboard the prison barge until their turn came. Captain Kutill followed up the rear of the line, his first officer assisting him with Zephath's communications officer. The woman was so badly beaten and abused, she could not stand without the aid of her companions. With their arms locked together around her, and her arms over their shoulders, the three slowly made their way toward the other hostages. All the while, Legion's guards bullied, prodded and cajoled the three into hurrying it up.

Mihai was enraged. "Give us our people now!" she shouted, angrily shaking a fist at Legion.

He grinned sinisterly, extending an opened palm. "You have not done well with your count. We are not finished."

He looked over his shoulder, nodding to someone near a distant, tracked machine. In a riotous explosion of noise, the iron monster sprang to life, sending a black cloud of smoke belching skyward. Amid the thunderous throbbing of its massive engine, the ancient tractor slowly began to lurch toward the crowd.

Lowenah's children stopped, mouths agape in amazement and wonder as this behemoth from ages past came lumbering toward them. This was undoubtedly some deserted relic of a long-forgotten mining operation that been resurrected by Asotos' people for the prisoner exchange. His mechanics must have labored countless hours to make it operational. If the intent of doing so was to garner attention, then Asotos had been successful.

Heavy steel tread plates tore deep into the loose sand, their well-worn, rusty grousers tossing it about as they sank deep to gain traction for the heavy load the machine was pulling. Out of the belching smoke and swirling dust came the iron monster, trailing three metal boxcar skids behind it. The first car was an old ore container with a door installed in its side, the second a supply car, and the third, former living quarters for the miners and crew.

The tractor had been parked nearly half a league from where Lowenah's children were. Anxious moments seemed to drag on endlessly as the giant hulk struggled forward, the tortured squeal of its heavy drive chains at times the only indication the machine was still moving. Ponderously the unwieldy beast neared, the pungent stench of its oily, burnt smoke wafting across the breeze, heralding its arrival. As if with a dying breath, the tractor lunged forward in one final gasp before screeching to a stop about three rods behind Legion's front line. The engine coughed again and died, sending one last plume of noxious smoke skyward. Then all was quiet.

The sudden silence filling the air was nearly as deafening as the roar of the beast preceding it. No one spoke; few dared even breathe. For Mihai's people, it was the torture of suspense waiting to see what horrid secrets lay hidden behind the sealed doors of the cars. For Legion and his co-conspirators, it was the intrigue of drawing out that suspense until Mihai and her people were stretched to their limit.

Legion carefully watched Mihai. When she was nearly at her breaking point, he addressed her. "For reasons beyond our control, we were forced to transport some of your rescued prisoners by means of this conveyance. As you will see, we have done what was considered best under the circumstances." At that, he lifted his hand high, signaling to others behind him.

The door of the middle car squealed on it tracks, opening to disgorge two-dozen heavily armed storm-troopers onto the burning sands. Several of the troopers hurried to the forward car. As its rusty door grudgingly opened, several men on the ground grabbed their noses, laughing while pointing toward the door. Finally, an officer in charge ordered half a dozen of the men inside to retrieve the contents hidden in the darkness.

Complaining loudly, the troopers entered the boxcar to return quickly with a long black bag, which they promptly tossed from the door. Hitting the ground with a squishing thud, the bag ruptured, spilling part of its rotting contents into the sand.

What was spilt out of the torn bag upon the sands? What was Asotos up to? Necks craned while curious eyes carefully searched to see what this was all about. It was not until the second bag splat open upon the ground that the sickening smell of death and rot finally swept over Mihai's people. These bags contained no rubbish, but the decomposing bodies of friends and lovers!

Six more large, black bags were unceremoniously dumped from the door of the car, each time the bag splitting asunder when hitting the ground. Mihai's people erupted in an angry tumult, some falling to their knees in uncontrolled weeping, others smashing fists upon shields and armor as they howled toward the sky for war and revenge.

Mihai was on the very edge herself when Legion lifted his hands to speak. If not for the dread that might fall upon the bound hostages, Mihai would have drawn her weapon and skewered the man with her blade. She screamed, "The Pits of the Damned are too good a place for the likes of your kind! Should I call out to all the beasts of Hell, would they be willing to gather your worthless carcasses to their feasts?"

Legion frowned a long, sad face, shouting above the uproar, cautioning, "This is a peaceful place of moot, an exchange for the ones we love. 'War' and 'vengeance' are words I hear. Has it come to this, that we must defend ourselves from uncalled-for violence? Do you wish to force our hand in defense of ourselves this day? This, I may add, being a righteous defense, for we have come only in peace to you to settle matters through conference and dialog."

"Peaceful?" Mihai shrieked, pointing to her dead companions. "How do you call that peaceful?"

Shouting back, Legion demanded, "Silence your ruffians or there will be no more exchange!"

As Mihai attempted to quiet her people, Legion scanned the gathered crowd. Puzzled, he watched two men off to Mihai's left. All this day they had not involved themselves with goings on. Even now they appeared to be distant concerning the things happening. More troubling still was that the gray-cloaked people scattered about the crowd remained stoic, watching events, the same as was the officer standing close to Mihai's side. What was up with these people? Did they have no fellow feeling for their imprisoned comrades?

Truth be said, Paul and Jonathan were distraught over the things witnessed but for them it was the natural course of matters in the worlds from which they had come. Rulers routinely tortured, burnt, disfigured, imprisoned, raped, and...and practiced every other sort of sadistic abuse upon the victims of their choosing. Not only were the two men witness to such things, each had received a rich helping of that same abuse at various times in their lives. How was this any different? This was saddening and true, but not out of the ordinary, at least from their personal observations.

The gray-cloaked people? Well, feelings were not allowed this day. They were on a mission under the direction of the field marshal. Warning they had been provided by her concerning the possible state of affairs that might exist this day, and orders given to not fall prey to such deviltry no matter the depth or range of the depravity witnessed. Silently, each of Trisha's warriors faithfully obeyed those orders, regardless the cost to heart or mind.

When things had settled down, Legion lifted his arms, shaking his hands as though in defense of earlier events. "My brothers! My brothers! We are all brothers here, once close companions one and all. The stress of the hour has also been difficult for my people as well as yours. The Outlanders were not kind to their prisoners, a few passing along despite our most diligent efforts. I do apologize for any possible inappropriate conduct on the part of a few of these simple soldiers, but under the circumstances it might well have been expected."

Mihai's hand suddenly flew to her head, a searing pain racing through her brain. A sinister voice from deep within the woman's mind began a chiding rant, "Strike him down! Strike out in revenge for your loved ones! Strike him down! Strike him to death! Do it! Do it! Do it!"

Through a blinding headache, Mihai looked up to see Asotos staring at her, a rapidly vanishing smile indicating his involvement in this demon attack. Fighting an urge to obey the monster's command, she forced her hand down to her side, shouting a defiant insult at her enemy. "Go fuck your girly-man, you whore lover!"

Asotos' face went white with rage as he clenched his teeth to remain silent. If he said a word to Mihai, Legion would no longer be his spokesman. Silently he stood there, his glaring eyes casting hateful threats. At that instant, the lyrical jingling of dancing bells filled the man's head to distraction. Cursing Lowenah did little good, she ignoring the man's telepathic ranting. Asotos fought to quell the musical assault, forgetting about Mihai.

Mihai's verbal assault had come at great risk to the hostages, but at least her demon was back in hiding, and Asotos was no longer attacking her mind. As the pain quickly ebbed, Mihai regained some of her composure. She could now turn her attention back to Legion.

Leaning forward threateningly, she snarled, "Give our people up to us and be done with it!"

Legion cried out defensively, his hands flailing the air, "Be patient! Be patient! The exchanging hour is not yet come to its finish! Look and see that more there is to come." He peered into a very troubled, curious face, frowning, "Your count has not been good. There is still more to come."

After pausing for effect, Legion pointed toward the third car behind the tractor, declaring, "Mind games! Yes, mind games the Stasis do play on hapless victims of weak constitution. Separate them we must from the others, lest such crazy madness might infect them all. So it is we have had to deliver this wretched soul to you separate from the others."

A loud, creaking noise ripped through the air as a door in the side of the third car struggled to open. Slowly and painfully it fought against rusted rails, wailing out warning and trepidation into the late day sky. Everything became quiet, even the breeze dying into deathly stillness. What wretched evil awaited the people's eyes? What tortured debauchery had Asotos fomented that resided in deep shadows?

Asotos grinned. Here, at last, was the final straw. Mihai had reached her limit. All day, she had been pummeled by one ruthless assault after another. Combined with the extreme heat, her sickness and bad visions, the demon within, and now these new, upcoming revelations, the woman was sure to snap. Asotos' people would be forced to defend themselves from the woman's vicious attack. Yes, many of his servants would die, but what of it? He cared for few, trusted none. Any one of them might slit his throat if given opportunity. The reward of having that bitch-woman in his grasp and forcing Erithia from her palace in an attempt to save her cherished child was worth the risk, worth the cost.

_Clank!_ The car door hit the end of its tracks. Silence... Other than for the parching, scant breeze that had tired of the wait, no sound could be heard coming from either camp. What secrets waited? Why the delay of this revelation? What was Asotos up to?

A smiling face suddenly appeared in the opened doorway. It was a chubby face, its smile full of gleaming white teeth, eyes twinkling. It was a face more like that of a mischievous boy than one of Asotos' chief commanders. A hand shot out of the darkness, waving, while the boyish-appearing face cheerily shouted out, "Hello!"

No one in Mihai's camp smiled back. Indeed not! This was no face of a mischievous boy, but that of the vilest of men, Godenn! Many were the children of Lowenah who had endured that smile while being brutally tortured in the prison holes. Those few who survived the ordeal were forever changed, often spending many long years rebuilding their minds and bodies in a sanitarium. No, there were no smiles, only a collective, audible groan that drifted skyward.

A distraught voice cried out, "The Butcher of Memphis!" Others took up the lament until the entire camp was in riot.

Mihai was forced to turn to her people, hands waving high, ordering them to be silent. Gradually the cries and shouts subsided. The woman then cast her gaze upon the man standing in the doorway, her heart growing with trepidation regarding what other secrets were to be revealed.

Godenn, a rather rotund, slovenly man, filled the doorway as he continued his grinning wave, scanning Mihai's crowd. The man enjoyed watching fear and anger on people's faces. It made him feel powerful. No longer handsome, the ravages of dissolute living and loathsome disease having ruined his looks, Godenn now found his beauty in the power he wielded over others. Fear, dread and hatred were some of the tools he used to retain that power. What a pleasure to see that his tools were working so effectively...

Something caught Godenn's eye that first made him curious and then concerned. Several of the people in Mihai's crowd stood, silently staring over at him, their faces betraying no emotion or recollection of him at all. Strange, everyone in the empire knew Godenn or of him. He was an Ancient, born into a world when only a few hundred of Erithia's children existed. He was grand marshal at countless celebrations and festivals. His name, 'GeshurPhoster', meaning 'father of illumination', was later changed to 'Godenn', 'the bright eye'. He was one of the foremost of Chrusion's counselors from days of old, before what was called the 'burning days', which was the burning of Lagandow, on up through the Second Age and into the Banishment.

Yes, few did not fear Godenn and none did not recognize him except...except some of those standing in Mihai's camp. 'Oh well...' Godenn shrugged. He would pick out their curious eyes later, while giving them insight and knowledge into who he is. Now he best be about his business.

With a grunt, Godenn jumped down onto the burning sand. In his hand, he held some kind of a long cable or line, its other end vanishing into the darkness beyond the door. He looked around, grinning, holding the end of the cable high, waiting for the crowds to quiet. When satisfied, the man turned his attention to the opened doorway and slowly began to back away from the car, pulling on the cable as he did. Eventually, like an apparition rising from the netherworld, a tiny creature manacled at the wrists and ankles emerged from the darkness.

Mihai carefully studied the bony skeleton standing in the doorway. What kind of an abomination was it, some new biologic creation designed by the enemy's demented minds? No, no, this must be one of Zephath's crew, but who? So badly disfigured the person was, one could not tell whether it was a man or woman, the wounds on the body so severe it made gender identification impossible.

Godenn jerked on the cable, the person crying out in agony as the collar's inner spikes tore into its neck. That cry...that cry...the voice was so familiar, so hauntingly familiar. Mihai's face clouded as understanding began to awake within her heart. She gasped at the possibility. Was this her ward, her child, her little one?

A wail rent the air when Mihai fully comprehended the identity of the person standing in the doorway. "Sirion! Sirion, my child!"

At that instant, Godenn pulled hard on the cable, yanking Sirion from the boxcar. The girl let out a howl that was quickly muffled as she fell, face first, into the burning sand. Godenn pulled hard again on the cable, but Sirion did not move.

This was the moment Asotos had been waiting for. He smiled. Now to make the woman snap. He glared sinisterly at Mihai, laughing, "Worthless piece of shit, anyway! Better off dead!"

Screaming, Mihai started to lunge at Asotos, her hand grasping for the sword at her side. Then everything went crazy.

Mihai had taken less than a step, her hand barely gripping the hilt of her sword when she was slammed hard from the side, followed quickly by a searing pain in her right hand as it was wrenched away from her weapon. Tendons snapped and bones cracked as Trisha grappled with Mihai, spinning her around and smashing them both into Anna, all three tumbling into a tangled pile.

Trisha crashed down on top of Mihai, staring into Mihai's shocked face. "That is enough of you!" Trisha snarled. "Fool! If your sister lives, it is no thanks to you!"

There was a sudden report of a gun, quickly followed by several more, all in quick succession. Asotos, a silly grin draining from his face, watched dumbfounded as the head of one of his guards disappeared in a cloud of crimson vapor. Before he could blink, three more of his soldiers suffered that same fate. The four men had been in too much of a hurry to carry out orders, their knives failing to reach the throats of intended victims.

Legion never got to signal his army of soldiers and storm-troopers as he had intended. Instead he found himself staring into the barrels of a shotgun pointed directly at his face. Wisdom dictated he stand down, the hooded soldier's fingers squeezing the double triggers, her eyes begging him to move.

Godenn looked up when he heard the first shot, his thumb about to press the detonator. He found himself staring into the eyes of the gray-cloaked man off to his right, holding a double rifle, pointed directly at him. Godenn had long learned to live by instinct. No need to die this day. Quickly dropping the cabled detonator, Godenn jumped back, his hands reaching high, a worried smile on his face. The hooded man did not shoot, but he did not lower his weapon either.

In less than a heartbeat, Garlock had reloaded his double rifle and was pointing it directly at Godenn, the bloody results of his first two shots being a convincing argument for Asotos' lieutenant to abandon his plans of killing Sirion. He and another dozen of his gray-cloaked confederates stood guard against any further mischief from Asotos' company. Armed with double and automatic shooting weapons, Asotos' assembly of bowmen would be no match for the gray-cloaked warriors.

(Author's note: _Double-barreled, rifled shotguns were most dangerous, being capable of firing a wide variety of cartridges. Designed off weapons used in the Lower Realms, they could be loaded with shrapnel, explosives, rifled rounds, or solid, round-ball shot. Used extensively during the King's War by the Navy and Marines, they gained a reputation in legend far beyond their practical worth. Oh yes, at close range they were devastating, but in regular combat were considered inferior to standard long weapons_.)

Planetee heard a grunt behind her just before being swept off her feet and crushed against Eutychus' body. She had little more than reached out to assist Mihai when her world painfully turned upside down. As the explosive reports of the guns sounded in her ears, she felt the sickening crunch of cracking ribs. Through a dizzying blindness, the woman watched, helpless, as Trisha struggled Mihai to the ground. Then her world went black, remembering little more of the following events.

Someone watching from behind a sand dune as the chaotic scene unfolded cursed the person knocking Mihai to the ground. "Why can it not be seen for what it is? Evil...evil, I say! The fight was upon us for saving the day. The traitor has stolen it from us." Seeing there was nothing that could be done for the moment, the frustrated warrior slid her sword back into its scabbard and hurried away, promising to remove the trouble-maker at a more convenient time.

Lowenah lifted her head as if smelling the breeze. In her mind, she watched the warrior depart. She frowned, shaking her head. "There is trouble afoot if something is not done soon. I must see to fixing it when we return home."

Her face in Mihai's, Trisha growled contemptuously, "Do you think my words were that of a fool when I told you to remain silent and your sister might live? Hell hunts our very souls as I speak! Now shut your mouth and do as you're told, and some of us might survive the day."

Mihai blinked in confusion and surprise. What was going on? Who was this creature whose crushing weight was stealing away her breath, this she-woman with the strength of ten men, breaking her wrist with bare fingers? Groggily aware that something far beyond her understanding was going on, she dumbly nodded to do as Trisha ordered.

At that instant, Trisha felt a disruption in the harmonics. Someone was signaling distant ships, undoubtedly calling for support to renew the battle. Looking up at Eutychus, she shouted, "War is upon us!"

Dropping Planetee unceremoniously into the sand, Eutychus turned and roared, "Hestemi agon! Hestemi agon!" translated, 'Stand to fight! Stand to fight!'

Shouts of "Strateuo! Strateuo!" (To war! To war!) filled the air as hatches opened in the two lead wagons, disgorging dozens of Marines brandishing the same kind of weapons carried by the gray-cloaked soldiers.

At that same instant, Trisha clutched her throat, shouting. "Kapnos Apoluo Oros! Kapnos Apoluo Oros!" (Let the Mountain Smoke! Let the Mountain Smoke!) Getting Eutychus' attention, she pointed toward the wagons, shouting, "Deliver Hell to Heaven!"

Eutychus nodded then turned to the teamsters, bellowing, "Anistemi Neossos Anaireo!" (Rise up to bring death, oh birds of prey!)

The teamsters dove for the horses, pulling pole pins while cutting traces. In seconds, they were driving the teams hard, shouting out warnings to clear the way as they raced for the rear of the lines.

No sooner were the horses clear than the distinctive wail of turbines added to the tumultuous din. Servos whined as wagon sides fell away to reveal armored, gravity gunn-trucks mounted with rapid-fire machine guns and solid projectile, automatic cannons from navy fighters.

Eutychus hurried forward to assist Trisha onto her feet. He pointed toward the enemy ships. "They come like ants to war."

Trisha looked over her shoulder, smiling, "They come too late. Look!" Eutychus turned just in time to see three ships of war skimming in low over the horizon.

Trisha then turned to a very confused and distraught Legion, shouting above the noise, "Call off your host or we all die here this day!" Without waiting for his reply, she turned, bending low to assist Mihai.

Garlock let out a howl as he stumbled backward, spinning around and crashing to the ground. A crescendo of shots rang out. Two of Legion's archers fell, meeting the same fate as their deceased comrades.

Trisha bolted upright, shouting at the crews of the gunn-trucks, "Take 'em out!"

Legion screamed, his hands flailing, "No! No! I'll stand them down! I'll stand them down!"

Fingers on triggers, the gunners waited on further orders from their commander. She told them to keep their weapons charged, adding, as she pointed toward Legion, "If there's mischief, he goes first!"

Hands high, Legion backed away, sidling up to Asotos, who stood there in a daze of confusion and frustration. Only now was he even beginning to grasp what was happening, while at the same time, with the horses gone, he could see clearly the source of the haunting music, the woman being the mesmerizing beauty he remembered. His mind torn between the turbulent mayhem on his right and the apparition of visions passed to his left, the man was temporarily thrown into a state of perplexity, unable to react to either situation.

Trisha motioned Jonathan to tend to Jebbson and then turned to the marine captain, pointing toward the hostages. "Go bring them. Shoot anyone who stands in your way."

A dozen Marines, accompanied by six or so gray-cloaked soldiers, guns held high, rushed over to the hostages. No one stood in their way, having already observed that these people played for keeps.

Trisha then nodded to Eutychus, who stormed off to retrieve Sirion. Pushing his way past stunned guards, the giant made his way straight for the girl, angrily shouting at Godenn as he approached on a run, "Get outta the way, pimple, or I'll smash ya!"

Stunned by Eutychus' open threat, and seeing fires burning in the madman's eyes, Godenn jumped out of the way just before being bowled over. He was baffled by the boldness of this man. Godenn could barely remember a time when he had been shown such callous disregard to the point of feeling his life in danger - a long, long time.

Eutychus bent low over Sirion, softly calling her name. He reached down with bare hands, ripping the collar from around Sirion's neck, tossing it at Godenn's feet. Glaring at Godenn, Eutychus snarled, "Git, you, or I'll put that thing around your fat neck and push the trigger, too! Now git!"

Godenn did not need to be warned twice. He turned and, at a waddling run, made his way for the safety of Asotos' side.

Turning his attention to Sirion, Eutychus gently rolled the woman over and carefully brushed the sand from her face and mouth. He feared her already dead, but chose not to believe it. Cradling her head in his arms, he began to sing a sweet little lullaby she had once sung to him.

Jebbson rolled over with a groan and slowly sat up, pulling pieces of a shattered jillson bolt from a torn hole in his flannel shirt. Holding the broken arrow point in his hand, he mused, "Didn't work as good as expected, but still worked."

Jonathan saw through the ruptured shirt another quilted garment of some sort that appeared undamaged. Before he could cuss the man out for scaring them all, Jebbson requested to be assisted up. Standing straight, Garlock smiled, looking over at Trisha, calling out, "Good to go, Captain. Good to go."

Trisha replied with a satisfied smile and then turned her attention back to Mihai.

All these momentous events had occurred in little more than a minute. Asotos was only beginning to come to his senses concerning what had happened, the man not yet comprehending the depth to which his carefully planned mission had now failed.

As he dumbly stared out at the ruination of his glorious plans to capture Mihai and retake the palace, a ghostly voice echoing derisive laughter filled his head. "Do you see them now...my little darlings? Do you see them now? Yes...yes, they have come to you from beyond their graves, beyond your reach, your seedlings, little shoots of their father, your wretched offspring, your Children of Damnation. Raised up from the depths below they have been. Still befouled with that world's stink they are, to bring a ruin to your world here. Full of hatred and vengeful desire they are. Do you believe now that my little darlings live? They live..."

Asotos cursed the voice in his head, telling it to depart and stay out of his business. Laughing again, the voice replied merrily, "As you have commanded..." it quickly fading in his mind.

Forcing his attention away from the mesmerizing beauty that was making such hypnotic music, Asotos turned to view conditions on his right. Gone were his hostages except for Sirion, who was still being tended to. Dead were several of his soldiers. Legion was standing back with his hands held high in surrender, and...and...and everything was just in a shambles. Less than a kilometer away, three ships of war floated low in the sky while two gravity gunships hovered above the sands just behind the enemy's line. Soldiers, ships, war? This was not supposed to be! Just a lone woman charging his line, and then his people charging to the slaughter of the Erithia's children...that was the way it was supposed to be.

Trisha was down on a knee, assisting Mihai, while some members of the king's diplomatic council were helping Planetee. Barely conscious because of the blinding pain from her injuries given her by Eutychus when he restrained her, attendants needed to place Planetee on a litter in order to remove her from the field. The poor fellow had no intention of hurting Planetee at all but, in the excitement of the moment, gave his dear friend such a crushing blow that he dislocated her shoulder and cracked some ribs. It would be several days before Mihai's trusted counselor would be healed enough to return to her duties.

Although he would deeply regret having hurt Planetee so when report was later delivered to him, for the moment, Eutychus was giving no never-mind to anyone but Sirion. He could feel no pulse nor see any fog on his pocket mirror when checking for a breath. Still refusing to give up hope, he continued to gently rock Sirion in his arms while singing cheerful little songs to her.

Gently rubbing Mihai's swollen hand, Trisha apologized, sadly bemoaning the damage she had done. "My lord and king, I am so sorry, but did what I had to do. Please forgive your servant girl for committing this travesty against you. Dastardly yet are the deeds that must be done this day, and I beg you can forgive them also. But if that is the case or not, by my hand must they still be done. I beg your understanding regarding these matters."

Asotos was incensed, glaring into Mihai's camp at the people sprawled upon the ground. As he contemplated the current disaster, he stared at the vile thing that had failed to carry out a very simple mission, cursing it in his mind, 'I will not forget you, evil, treacherous thing. Today you live. Tomorrow you will wish you had not. Betrayed my trust once too often you have. There is no absolution for the agony you have fetched me this day! Ruined it all you have! Ruined it all!'

As the realization of the extent of desolation wrought on his wonderful schemes continued to grow, Asotos became enraged. Stepping forward, he broke into a frothing tirade against the miserable creature responsible for destroying his grand plan. He screamed one abuse after another at her, the woman paying no attention to him as she assisted Mihai.

With Anna's aid, Trisha managed to get Mihai to her feet. She was still in a bit of a daze, needing both women to hold her to keep from collapsing. While Asotos continued with his tempestuous verbal assault, Trisha directed the securing of the camp as well as getting additional aid for Mihai. Before leaving with their charge, Trisha bowed low to Mihai, calling out loudly to her, "My king. My lord... Your servant... May the spirit of the Cherubs go with you."

Asotos was flabbergasted at seeing this last antic. Placing his fists on his hips and rocking back on his heels, he shouted out to Trisha in derision, "Has the court gone mad? Does the jester rule the day as high commander of a fool's army?"

Trisha slowly turned about, looking Asotos directly in the eyes, asking, "Are you speaking to me?"

Asotos laughed sardonically, "Who else but a twitter-brained joker would not understand? Of course I'm speaking to you!"

Trisha smiled innocently, "So it is... I will accept your offer to conclude this moot with you."

* * *

The sweet, pungent smell of evergreen mixing with the musty odor of woodland decay filled Ishtar's nostrils as she awoke on the hillock where she had earlier watched the display of grand armies pass her by. Countless twinkling stars filled the night sky, providing the little light by which the girl could see. Was it the same night or the next, or were a thousand passed by? This the girl did not know, but she was hungry and curious, a sure combination to get the child up on her feet to go in search of food while doing a little exploring.

As she neared the bottom of the mossy slope, Ishtar noticed the wide plain was overgrown with low bushes, shrubs, and wiry grasses. This was no land that multitudinous armies recently marched across. For sure, such a place would be trampled at least. But here were endless fields of thorny berry bushes, brier patches, mustard and laceweed mixed with countless varieties of wild summer flowers and tangles of vine-covered scrub trees. Just how long had the girl slept?

In the world of dreams, a lifetime can be lived in moments, but Ishtar did not realize this was a dream. At the girl's present level of cognition, the thought of vision or reality was not comprehended. She saw, felt, heard, wondered and...and realized all the other wonderful things a child of her youth and upbringing would realize, and for her that was an important enough matter. What she was currently experiencing was already wondrous without pondering whether this world was reality or fantasy. After all, coupled with her body's own excited physio-psychic melding, there were other fingers dabbling with their telepathic intrigues.

Ishtar's journey, starting with a walk down the moss-covered hillock of this fantasy world, and ending far in the future with the woman-child standing upon Memphis' high battlements was just beginning. The stage was set, the players soon to be introduced, but now the girl must decide the trail she was to take. The first of Destiny's clues for that were soon to be revealed in haunting and mysterious ways.

Mossy fingers reached into the overgrown thickets that appeared to stretch far beyond the ever-darkness. That same moss soaked up the starlight so that it illuminated the area in a phosphorescent glow. A ghostly-white mist drifted across the fields, catching up that mystical glow as it silently flowed across those twisting rivers of iridescent green. Not only were Ishtar's eyes attracted to this delightful scene, but countless numbers of dancing fireflies also gathered together above the glowing lichens.

Choosing the path Ishtar was to take was an easy matter, her fiery companions revealing deliciously huge berries hanging from tall, thorny bushes...just what was needed for a hungry palate. Though only a smattering of berries grew close enough to the trail to be gathered without being scratched by the long, barbed thorns on the fruited vines, the girl was delighted to see the trail was lined with the luscious, sweet fruit. Off she went at a skip, stopping to scoop up a berry or two here and there, gingerly making her way along from one tiny cluster of the titillating delights to another.

Does time exist when one is lost in a patch of the sweetest, most luscious berries ever tasted? Why, does time even exist in a dream? Whatever might be the case, Ishtar gave no consideration to time as she diligently scrounged for berries in the thorny thickets growing along her mossy trail. Further and further down the twisting path the girl journeyed until, looking back, aghast, she saw the hillock of glowing moss was now little more than a tiny rise in a deep ocean of blackness. The inviting, misty glow from the many other mossy trails and the multitude of dancing fireflies were missing from the dark, shadowy fields. Now the only mossy luminescence remaining led off toward the immense woodland, the spires of its tall, majestic trees standing out forebodingly black against the twinkling night sky.

Ishtar never wandered the woods at night. Why, she had never gone out alone at night before in her life. What was she to do, hunker down here until daylight came, or... but wait, what if daylight never came to this world? What if this was a land of ever-darkness?

Ishtar peered down the path toward the distant forest. There were still many berries to be seen in the glow of the night, and her tongue was still set to enjoy more of those fruity delights. Besides, the child was a curious soul, more so than most. She would go a little further for now, to satisfy that insatiable sweet tooth of hers in the least, and to discover what lay around the next bend. Maybe then she would decide what to do, maybe. As her feet set a cautious pace, hundreds of glowing bugs danced in the air about her, filling the night sky with their colorful lights of limitless hues.

The girl was soon so absorbed in gathering the tasty fruits she failed to notice that the briery hedges were growing in height and immensity about her. When she finally awoke to the matter, why, there the trail was now very narrow with occasional thorny vines sweeping into it. A chill air, carrying with it the feel of growing resentment, slowly crept in through the briery hedges crowding close to the path.

Soon all light was faded away except for an eerie, bluish glow that surrounded the girl. Wait! Ishtar gasped. The light was not surrounding her, but was radiating out from her. She was aglow, the source of all light in this place, that is except for a few of the firelight bugs that still flitted about her.

Deciding to retrace her steps in hopes of finding a different, friendlier path, Ishtar walked smack into a tangle of briers blocking the trail. In amazement she stared, watching as the few remaining open spaces of the road behind were quickly filling in with brier-covered, hoary vines. As their fingers reached ever outward in tangled masses, there arose around the girl an angry, hissing noise. Stepping back, Ishtar realized the angry hissing sound surrounded her, coming from anywhere and everywhere. The remaining fireflies suddenly darted into the night sky, scattering in every direction.

That's the trouble with dreams, you never can trust them. Deceptive they are, filling your head with delightful musical fantasies one second and chilling the heart with bone-numbing terror the next. A dream is fickle, playing to its own desires. Bad enough it is when a sleeping mind opens random doors in hidden places to haunt dreaming moments. But when other hands play games within? Oh, the trouble that brews!

Ishtar had eaten berries to the point of bursting. A nap was in order, something she had been earlier considering, but now it appeared a much better idea to hurry along toward the forest, seeing something was amiss here. As Ishtar pushed along through a thickening, thorny hedge, the ever-growing hissing was turning into chanting evil words that the distraught girl understood. "Greedy it is. It is! Eats all our children, it does. It does! Eats them all. Now we eats it. Eats it!" Again the chant was repeated, this time accompanied by sinister laughter that whistled upon a delicate breeze.

Doubtful concern grew into fearful insight, and then into abject terror. Ishtar broke into a run, attempting to escape the suffocating briers that whipped out from the hedge in an effort to trip or catch her up. Torn and bleeding, the girl ran on, paying no never-mind to her stinging, hurting injuries.

As tired legs ever hurried her onward, Ishtar could feel the trail closing in behind, the chanting cries of the thorny bushes gaining in strength as the other shrubs, vines, and wild grasses allied themselves to this cause and joined in the maniacal chorus.

With panting breath and burning lungs, the torn and bedraggled woman-child continued her flight toward the deep woods. No longer foreboding to look upon, she yearned for their protection, never once considering that they, too, might be allies with the field folk. In the dark, forested woods there might reside untold dangers, but here the threat to life was certain. Better it was to trust to the unknown than to perish in the certain.

As her strength was waning, Ishtar stumbled upon the last barrier hurriedly being erected to stop her escape. Mistletoe was quickly weaving itself about tall brambles, blocking the path. Only a few lonely paces beyond that blockade lay the deep woods and hoped for safety. Shouting a cry of desperation, Ishtar charged into the thicket, struggling and fighting with all her might to break through. With one final grunting heave, the last of the vines snapped, freeing the girl to make a run for it, the enraged scrubland flora desperately charging after her, quickly catching up.

Just when all hope was lost, two long, spindly limbs reached down and caught the girl up and away to the forest. Outside the wood, the bushy vines, scrub trees, and every other sort of wild plant people ranted on, dismayed over their loss. The tall forest people angrily retorted, "Go away or we shall send forth the driven wind against you!" At that, a howling could be heard growing deep in the forest. The plant people, shouting foul oaths against their woodland neighbors, slouched away into the darkness and back to the safety of the fields beyond.

After the plant people had retreated a reasonable distance, the giant tree gently set Ishtar down on a wide, well-worn path that wound its way further into the forest. Although hurting from her many cuts and bruises, the girl bowed low to thank the majestic tree for providing her rescue.

The soft needles of the giant hemlock shook as the tree person unemotionally answered, "I care not good or ill for you or any other walking creature. It is the wild field person I detest, always attempting to overgrow my kindred with weed and vine, smothering those poor souls who live on the edge of my world. If you are an enemy of theirs, then you must be a friend of mine, at least for the moment."

The aged hemlock then warned, "Not all my kindred may feel the same toward you as I. Many are those who live deep in the woods that have not witnessed the glorious light of day or felt the open breeze upon their boughs. They are very resentful of any creation walking on two or four legs, for their very roots refuse them freedom. Stubborn, you know. Unable to move about like you, they become bitter because their universe is very, very, small. Old they are, yes, old beyond your reckoning, but angry still because you are so unlike them. Their ways you do not understand, but your ways they do not want to know at all. They seek not to gain an understanding with you should they call out for a moot, but to do you mischief is their desire."

The tree gave the girl a gentle push. "Stay on the road you chose so long ago. See it to the end. Do not deviate from it. I, the old sage of this woodland, have weathered countless storms, but have also basked many days in the warmth of the sun. You are but a sprout, young to the world around you. Many storms must you endure, the possible threat of the woodman's axe occasioned often. Do not give in to the folly of your youth when those and other dangers block your path. Like the field people who rise to glory when the summer is high but fade to stubble when the winter tempest blows, your trials will not last but a season and then they will be forgotten."

Ishtar thanked the ancient tree, and then took to the path. The old hemlock called after her with its final bit of counsel. "A sprout does not grow into a giant tree in a day or two. Many long years, ages it does take. Ancient you will one day become, that is assured, but do not be in a hurry to reach it. Learn your lessons well, for many are the forest people who will need your wisdom in those future times."

The forest path was smooth and wide, but it twisted, bent, and rolled its way here and there across the forest floor. The dampness of the world beneath the wide tangle of evergreen, oak, ash, maple and hickory made the road cool and at times slippery. Occasionally Ishtar would find herself dropping down and down into some steep ravine only to have to claw her way up the other side, and then over some high, forested peak, only to plunge down again into the darkness far below.

The deeper into the kingdom of the forest people the girl went, the more subdued her own glowing light became until she found herself walking along more by sense than by sight. As her radiant power diminished, the forest pressed in upon her. Although feeling no direct hostility, there was a powerful sense of growing unwelcome coming from the surrounding wooded giants. Whispering voices muttered in disquiet, "We do not want it here. Ruin us all, it will. Naked it is, with no fur of leaves to cover its limbs, no roots to hold its feet secure in times of distress, no knowledge of our life and ways. Surely it will bring unwanted change to our peaceful world."

"Stay to the trail," the aged hemlock had warned, and Ishtar dutifully obeyed. It was a good thing, too. Many a tree would seek to dissuade her from the path by placing their knurly roots across it in an attempt to trip her up. Other aged tree people, usually the oaks or weathered maples, would call out, asking for her to step aside and have a friendly chat with them, seeing she could tell them about the world far beyond their wooded kingdom.

In time, the twisting trail gradually fell away into the blackness of a deep, craggy draw. As Ishtar felt her way along a steep rock face, she listened to the enchanting music of a tiny, bubbling brook, its water lapping at the girl's feet. Eventually, the canyon narrowed to the point where its two rock faces were little more than three short cubits wide. Ishtar was forced to splash through the stream, keeping her balance by feeling her way along the chasm's high walls. Soon the canyon gradually closed over her until she was making her way through a cave as its ceiling slowly crept lower and lower until the girl was squirming along through a frightfully low, narrow tunnel.

Waters Ishtar once splashed along were rapidly becoming deep to the point of the child being convinced she was soon going to drown. At the last moment, when her nose was pressing the roof of the tunnel to find a breath of air, the tunnel opened into a small grotto. Too deep to walk through, Ishtar began to swim, seeking to find an exit. After all, the path had delivered her here. It must continue on in some way. After swimming about for endless hours (in a dream unpleasant events often seem endless) Ishtar finally decided that the trail must be out and up through a subterranean opening. Taking a deep breath, she plunged beneath the chilly waters in search of it.

Down, down, down the child dove into the blackness in her daunting search for escape from this fathomless cavern. Little consideration did she give to the fact that a good swimmer she was not, and never had she swum deep below the water's surface, and the need for air to refill tired lungs did not enter her mind. Soon she could not tell the direction she was swimming, - up, down or sideways. When despair was beginning to seep into her heart, the blackness gave way to the tiniest of glowing lights far off in the distance. With renewed energy and sweeping strokes, she hurried onward into the deep abyss.

Soon forgotten was any search of escape from this watery world of chilling cold and total blackness. Ishtar was now in pursuit of a flickering golden light that appeared to be retreating at her approach. Driving heart and muscles to their limit, she struggled to catch up to this strange light, wondering not if she might find escape by it, but more out of curiosity as to what it was. Dangerous though it might be, she thought naught of those perils, seeking only the discovery of what might be creating that light.

Her persistence eventually paid off, the girl smiling, satisfied. There was not one golden glowing light, but many - an entire tightly packed school of tiny fishes all aflame in brilliant light, swimming this way and that. Surprised Ishtar was to realize they were not fleeing her. Why, they paid her no heed at all! The tiny fish completely ignored her as they hurried ever forward on some unexplained journey or quest. Ishtar decided to follow them to see where they were going. On and on the tiny fishes swam, ever on.

Now, other less inquisitive children might have given up the chase and swum to the surface and returned to the outer world by the way they came, there to go in search anew for the trail they were to take. Ishtar was a determined soul, and most curious. Impossible it was now for her to surrender the chase. For good or ill, she must continue on her quest to discover what these little creatures were searching for. Still, it was such a long time they swam that even Ishtar began tiring of the chase.

Soon Ishtar's mind was wandering, thinking about other matters to the point of the girl nearly forgetting about the fishes all together, that is, until she noticed the fishes' glow reflecting off a rough-hewn rock face far down in these watery depths. Excitedly, she swam close up to the fishes, following behind while sliding her hand along the slippery stone. She silently mused at how comforting it felt to be touching something solid in this seemingly endless ocean of water.

Suddenly, without warning, the school of tiny, glowing fishes disappeared, leaving Ishtar again in the total darkness of that deep abyss. Fighting down a growing panic, she swam along the rock wall, her hands continually skimming its face. As her hope began to fade, the rock wall suddenly fell away into a depression of sorts. Peering in the direction that the wall fell away, she again saw the golden light of the tiny fishes, but now they appeared to be far down a small passage leading away from the cavern.

Giving no consideration to her safety, or whether this tunnel might just go down into another deeper and even bigger cavernous ocean, Ishtar kicked hard to enter the small opening, and began pulling herself along by her hands in hopes of catching up with the fishes.

Soon the passage narrowed, and then it narrowed still more to the point the girl was forced to turn sideways, squeezed between the tunnel's two opposing walls. Kicking and pulling with all her might, she slowly made her way along until the child was unable to move forward or return to the blackness behind. With panic rising in her breast, she pushed with every last bit of her strength to escape her possible tomb. Finally, with one great heave, she tore herself free, the jagged passage wall ripping at her flesh.

Bleeding and bruised, the child eventually escaped that terrifying place and emerged into a watery world filled with radiant lights of dancing blues and greens. With great surprise and relief, Ishtar found that she was breaking the surface of another cavernous lake, this one lit up by beautiful crystal stones hanging down from the cave's high, vaulted ceiling.

The intoxicating feeling of fresh air filling her lungs made Ishtar almost giddy. Oh, this was such a delightful place, the waters warm, the air clean and sweet-smelling. In a few moments, she had swum to a smooth, flat outcropping of rock that jutted away from the cavern wall, quickly climbed on to it, and was stretched out resting. What a relief to be out of the water!

How long she lay there luxuriating in sleepy repose, Ishtar did not know. This was an ever-world of colorful lights. Time stood still here, with only the occasional drip of mineral water falling from one of the bluish-green crystals high up in the ceiling. So what? It felt good to be here, safe, you might say. Maybe she could stay here a while, rest up, you know, and then go on, after she had thought about it a bit.

A sudden disturbance across the waters alerted Ishtar to another's presence. Her heart filling with apprehension, she peered off in the direction from where the noise was coming. In time the girl saw an ugly, hairy, beast-man slowly emerge from a shadowy cave across from where she sat on the edge of the lake. In his hands, he carried a heavy iron pot, and in a shoulder pouch, a bundle of wood.

'This must be a troll!' Ishtar excitedly thought...well, at least what a troll should look like, she never having seen one. Afraid to move a muscle, the girl silently sat there staring at the scary troll.

Setting the wood down, the troll took the pot and dipped it into the lake, and after starting a fire with the wood, placed the water-filled pot upon it. A smile grew on his face as the flames rose up around the pot, the water setting up a merry boil. The troll broke into a happy little hum and once again walked toward the edge of the lake. Bending low, he picked up a heavy black line tied to a large rock. "Whoa, now!" he laughed as the weight on the other end of the line nearly toppled him into the water. Regaining his balance, he gave several long tugs on the line, eventually pulling a large, round basket-shaped object from the lake. With a satisfied harrumph, he turned and retreated to the blaze.

Nearing the fire, the troll lifted the basket up, pulled the slip-rope away and with both hands spread wide the opening in its top. Smacking his lips, he stared down into the basket, starting again his happy little hum. Filled with curiosity, Ishtar leaned forward, squinting, in an attempt to see what might be hidden inside the object the troll was holding.

Standing over the boiling pot, the troll turned the basket over, letting out a happy cry, "Oh, come to the feast and fill me up. Stew and broth, I'll drink you down!" He laughed, dumping the basket's contents into the bubbling pot.

Ishtar let out a gasp as she watched dozens of tiny golden fishes tumble from the basket into the steaming water. The fishes, her fishes, the tiny, little glimmering lights she had followed for so long were being tossed into the stew pot to make a meal for the troll!

If the hungry troll heard Ishtar, he gave no indication of it. Taking a long, wooden stick, he began stirring his stew, all the while singing some senseless, carefree song about little fishes and other more tasty things in the waters below. After several long minutes, the troll stopped his singing, placed the stick down and, with both hands, picked up the bubbling pot, smacking his lips as he sucked in a breath. Then, tipping his head back while opening his mouth wide, the troll gulped down every last drop of the boiling stew.

When finished, the troll stooped to place the pot down beside the fire. Standing back up, he rubbed his belly, letting out a satisfied sigh. "T'is good. T'is good. Will satisfy until I find another morsel sweeter still." He looked over at Ishtar, grinning.

Startled, Ishtar threw her hands to her face as she involuntary recoiled at the troll's grinning stare. The troll belched then, while rubbing a hand across his mouth, began to waddle toward the girl. In growing fear, Ishtar pushed herself back along the rocky outcropping until she collided with the cliff wall of the cave. Stopping at the water's edge, the troll reached out a hand and began to wag a finger at her. Ishtar let out a cry of despair, uncertain of what might become of her.

Continuing to wag his finger, the troll laughed and called across the water to Ishtar, "Fear not this old fellow here, for I will not harm you." He smacked his lips in hunger, running his eyes back and forth across Ishtar's naked body. "Never have I harmed a soul, nor should you be afraid of me in any way." He became silent, waiting to hear some reply, all the while continuing his hungry searching of the girl's flesh.

Ishtar's frightened mind was seeking to recall a similar place and time when another man stared hungrily at her. Try as she might, her heart refused to reveal that horrid moment, but it did confess that there was a difference between that time and this. The man's hungry eyes from the past looked at her to satisfy some perverse craving, while the troll's longing gaze appeared to be like that of a little child looking at a table filled with sweet cakes and candy.

Ishtar cried out, "You wish to eat me! Evil thing, go away!"

The troll lowered his hands to his side, laughing, "Oh yes! Oh yes, you look very tasty, fat and very tasty." He frowned, "But I would never harm you. No. No. Never harm you or anyone. Never have. Don't need to." At that, he slowly turned, making his way back to the fire. Throwing on the last of the wood, he sat down cross-legged, facing the blaze, beginning anew another little humming tune while paying no more attention to the girl.

Ishtar was petrified. What was she to do? The girl did not know where she was or where she was to go. The little fishes that helped her get here were no more, unable to offer her any guiding light. For endless hours - or was it days or years - she pondered timidly what was next to be done. All the while, the troll quietly sat, staring into the crackling blaze.

When it finally occurred to Ishtar that the troll was no longer paying her any attention, curiosity got the better of her. Leaning forward, she called out, asking, "You say you aren't going to harm me, but yet you wish to eat me. Who comes to do your dastardly work of assaulting me so that you may accomplish your ends?"

Slowly turning his head until their eyes met, the old troll frowned innocently, "Oh, my tasty morsel, no one comes to harm you. No one at all...don't need to."

"What do you mean?" Ishtar cried. "I'm your prisoner here with no escape. You have stolen my guiding light, my little fishes, eaten them you have..."

The troll vehemently shook his head to the contrary. "You are not my prisoner! And I am no thief. Honestly I came by those fishes, having called them to my net." He glared, accusing, "You have eaten little fishes before. Yes, you have! Your father obtained them from the men at the wharf or tossed in a net himself to gather them up from foaming waters. If I am a thief for catching little fishes, then you must be, too!"

Ishtar stared aghast. "You knew my father?"

The troll returned to peering into the blaze. "I know, have known or will know everyone. No one escapes my gaze. Yes, yes, he passed this way once. Everyone passes this way. But he didn't look all that tasty, or at least I didn't get to find out if he was or not. Went his way, he did, off on some other adventure. Left me here to await another lonely sojourner."

"Which way did he go? How did he escape from here?" Ishtar asked excitedly.

Turning to Ishtar again, the troll raised an eyebrow. "Oh, out..."

"Where? How? How did my father escape?" Ishtar persisted.

The troll wrinkled up his face. "He did not escape! He was not held captive here!" He fussed, "I have told you too much already. Not fair. Not fair at all. The others were not snoops like you. I said out. Out! Not like the others who obliged me so."

Becoming frustrated, Ishtar retorted, "You speak like the senseless old women of my city, a chatterer - chatterer with nothing useful to say."

Angered, the troll stood, glaring, clenching his fists. "I am not a chatterer! Riddler, yes, riddler I am."

Ishtar stood, fuming, "Well then, riddler, riddle me this: You say no one comes to harm me, yet you intend to eat me! Who then harms me so that you may feast upon my flesh?"

The troll grinned wide and, after the longest of times answered, "You do..."

Ishtar gasped, holding a hand to her mouth.

Shaking a finger at her, the troll scolded, "You are a brash one, you are. Bold of tongue and quick of mouth...but foolish or wise, I do not know. I will speak to you in straight and riddling ways. You must figure out which is which. But first, please step up and search the crystal waters to see we are not as alone as you think."

Curious, Ishtar slowly advanced toward the edge of the outcropping, all the time expecting to be caught up in some devious trick. Upon reaching the water, she stopped, waiting.

"Look down." the troll called across to her. "Look down into the depths of this blue-green sea."

Cautiously, Ishtar cast her eyes down into the sparkling pool. The water was still like glass and just as clear, so beautiful, the tranquil colors and shimmering rock formations under its surface. So restful and peaceful, so inviting, the girl sighed with a desire to refresh her body in a slow, leisurely swim. Her eyes drifted on down to the bottom of the glimmering pool. When her mind recognized what her eyes were now beholding, she recoiled in horror, nearly falling as she bolted backward.

The old troll's eyes met Ishtar's as he slowly nodded, smiling.

The girl shrieked, "You lied! You lied! Thousands they are! Must be! The bones of thousands I see scattered in piles. Murderer! Murderer!"

The troll angrily shot back, "Murderer I am not! Did not harm those tasty souls! Murdered themselves they did, they did."

Ishtar shook her head, crying, "Yes, you are! Tricksy murderer you are!"

The troll cried back, "Am not!"

Ishtar paused in thought, finally cocking her head. "If you are not, then tell me where I am, who you are, and how to leave this place."

Laughing, the troll rocked back on his heels. "Spirited one she is, but is she spirited enough?" He then rocked forward, extending a hand. "As I have said, I will tell you all there is to know in straight talk and riddles, but you must figure out which is which. Then decide you must."

Looking into the water and waving a hand across it, he added, "They all chose. Little good it did them." Then looking at Ishtar, smugly observed, "And good, I doubt, it will do you either."

Putting his hands behind his back, the troll began to pace about in front of the fire. Holding his head high, while occasionally casting a glance toward his next anticipated meal, he began to pontificate as only creatures of his kind can pontificate. "Now then, let me answer a few of your rather mundane questions."

He cleared his throat. "The little fishes that led you to this place are called 'blind credulity fishes' because they have no eyes to see with, but they do have sensitive ears. These fishes will follow heedlessly the whimsical tune of a lyre, will travel from great distances in search of that musical lilt that promises them hope maybe for a meal, security, a better life...I don't really know.

"They shine a false light, for it offers no security to those following them. Oh, yes," he nodded with glee, "many a foolish folk have followed them to these caves. I guess for no better reason than they have no purpose of their own in life, and seeing the fishes are so pretty and bright, assume good things will come to them if they only follow them along." He stopped, facing Ishtar, laughing while extending his hands wide. "Then I eat up all the little fishes, and the poor souls who aimlessly followed them with a false hope become so forlorn."

He turned and resumed his pacing. "Not all who come here have followed the blind credulity fishes, no. There are many other fishes lurking deep in the waters beyond this lake, and they have minds of their own. Tricksy they are, not nice to those lost souls who follow them along. Bring them here on purpose, they do.

"And then..." he pointed up toward the high, vaulted ceiling, "there are others who fall into here, maybe because something bad and unexpected happened to them. Yes, that was how your father came here. Not his fault at all. Didn't follow pretty fishes like his foolish child did. Nope, had some kind of accident, he did, and wound up here, all forlorn over what he was going to do. Had a family, you know." He looked at Ishtar, smiling. "Of course you know. How silly of me..." He laughed.

"Now let's see..." The troll paused in thought. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Where are you? You have pestered me with that one. Well, my delightful morsel, you are in the Land of Uncertainty."

Ishtar wrinkled up her face, questioning, "Land of Uncertainty?"

Waving a hand high as he continued to pace, the troll answered, "Yes. Yes, the Land of Uncertainty, and I am its lord, caretaker – manager, you might say. The Lord of Uncertainty... I sort of like that name. I take care of things here, welcome all its newcomers, and tidy up a bit when needs be." He smacked his lips.

Crying out accusatively, Ishtar exclaimed, "You hold me prisoner in the Land of Uncertainty! How am I to escape? Yet, if my father managed, then I must, too."

Angrily frowning, the troll shook a finger at the girl. "I do not hold you here as prisoner! You hold yourself! There is no need for escape from here! Leave when you wish." He looked around, smiling, "It's actually quite nice a place, I do believe. Spirited you are, but foolish, don't listen...don't listen at all. I am no thief nor do I hold anyone prisoner, nor do I harm anyone. If you accuse me of those things again, I will leave and you can try to figure things out for yourself!" He grinned and smacked his lips once more.

"No! No!" Ishtar wailed, frantically waving her hands, "I'll be good! I'll be a good girl, quiet as you demand, and... and... I promise not to speak rudely again." She sat down and pleaded, "Please go on, please! I'll listen intently."

The troll scowled, his hopes of a tasty meal slowly fading. "She's quicker of wit than we anticipated, maybe smarter, too." He sighed and shrugged, "I promised her. Whatever else is there for it? Must keep my promise..." Rubbing an ever-hungry belly, he laughed, "We'll see. We'll see. Now, then, be on with it!"

After chancing another glance at the girl, he cast his eyes downward and began to pace anew. "As I said, this is the Land of Uncertainty. All the peoples of all the worlds will one day pass through this place, or have passed. Many take their leisure here, never leaving. You see, uncertainty suits them well for no decisions are they forced to make in the Land of Uncertainty. They just lean back on that stone slab there, the one you are sitting on, and wait for my cousins, the Fates, to decide their future."

He tipped his head back, laughing in derision, "The Fates! Oh yes, the Fates. There are three of them you know: Laziness, Mindlessness, and Timidity.

"Laziness waits upon those who lack ambition of heart, body or mind. 'Let us drink and party the day away, and when night comes, let us do the same'. Whatever work done is only done to satisfy momentary desire. There is no thought given to the future, just the day, the hour..." he hissed, "the minute..."

Lifting a hand high, he declared, "The lazy ones often fall into a sound sleep on the very stone you're on, eventually to roll off into the waters and drown, or come to their doom when the floods slowly steal their perch from them, they waking too late to their approaching demise. Down they go to the depths below." Looking longingly into the waters, he smacked his lips.

Repulsed at the thought of this monster stripping the flesh from the bones of those unfortunates, Ishtar nearly let out a shout of condemnation, catching herself up at the last second by placing a hand over her mouth.

Looking over at the girl, the troll shrugged innocently, "We are only cleaning up the waters. Someone has to. Besides, they're not my kindred, not my kind. I'm no cannibal. Do you call the bugs, worms, or birds that find a carcass, whether it be of yours or some other kind, a cannibal? No. They're just doing what they were designed to do, clean things up a bit, so that the world doesn't become befouled and sickly. True, these lost souls are tasty, but still, I'm only doing my job. Is it wrong to like your job?"

Ishtar said nothing, sickening dread filling her heart as she haltingly shook her head 'no' in troubled reply to the troll's last question.

He clapped his hands, singing merrily, "Yes! Yes! You agree with us! Yes! Yes!" Then turning away and putting on a more scholarly tone, the troll continued. "Anyway, they blame the Fates, you know, always do. Never blame themselves for being lazy, never do."

He tapped the side of his head in thought, "Now let me see, where were we? Hmmm..." he snapped his fingers. "Oh, yes. Now we get to the mindless ones. Hee, hee...

"Mindlessness is my closest companion and greatest ally. There are so many, just like you, who like to follow pretty things, paying no never mind to where they may be going, or what might happen to them. They mindlessly follow along behind anyone offering them a little guidance – light, you might say – sort a' the blind leading the blind, if you catch my drift. Hee, hee, catch, you know."

The troll swept his arm about. "They end up here just like you. Then they get all muddled up, havin' ta think, I mean. Unlike those who are too lazy to think at all, these ones start to think on their own too fast...not used to it, you know. They begin to panic, seeking some form of escape. Like I said, no one's a prisoner here, no need to escape, gotta think that one out.

"Anyway, since none of them ever thought on their own before, it's too much work to begin now, other than how are they going to make escape. Hee, hee, no need for escape... Down they go into the depths far below, seeking the one passage that will deliver them from this place, the Land of Uncertainty." He shook his head, frowning in mock sadness, "Soon they're off in a rush. Down they go far into the deep and drown," he smacked his lips, "or they're off to see my brother, the Lord of Despair."

Ishtar bolted upright. "The Lord of Despair? I heard of him long ago when I was but a babe."

Grinning, the troll nodded, "Yes. Yes, the fellow is well known among your kind." Then he frowned, "Most dreaded, too. Not a nice person like me. The Lord of Despair sings such a merry tune to ensnare his captives. Then he eats them down whole, alive, reveling in their outcries and pleas for mercy. He, my tasty child, is someone you should wish never to meet."

Ishtar exclaimed, "Oh, but I have met him, once at least. He is not nice, nice at all. Makes your head spin with fear and dread, turns you upside down!"

The troll raised a questioning eyebrow. "She says we have met the Lord of Despair, and yet she arrives here alive and in good health, and unknowing of this world. Strange that is, very strange. We must watch this morsel more closely."

He raised a finger high, shaking it, "Yep, soon as those folks see they're in trouble, they call out to my cousin, Mindlessness, blaming him for all their woes and troubles. Poor Mindlessness, all he did was permit them a door to walk through. Didn't have to go, they didn't, but blame poor ol' Mindlessness anyway, saying they had no control over matters - that he made them do it.

"Finally, we get to Timidity." The troll beamed as he told about this fated cousin. "Timidity has learned to make sport of the ones he leads into these underworlds. Timidity seeks out people who are indecisive and hesitant. Their kind are overly concerned about every little thing, so afraid to make a decision for fear it might well be the wrong one to make, which it usually is for that kind. When opportunity is set before them, they will wait until it is too late, wait to walk down a dark road for fear of the highwayman, wait to gather the eggs in case they might miss one, wait to love for fear of a broken heart. Wait and wait and wait - that is what the timid one does.

"So-o-o..." the troll rubbed his chin in thought, "So-o-o, when they arrive here, at my humble abode, they don't know at all what to do. Oh, I speak to them and speak to them, just like I am doing with you, but they don't do anything for fear it will be the wrong anything. Then, when the floodwaters rise, or the spiders come crawling, or the creepy things come visitin', they're all in a mad hurry, dive into the waters to make escape. Like I said, you're not a prisoner here, don't need to make escape."

Pointing into the blue-green, crystal ocean, he explained, "Off they go, this way and that, making rash decisions about how to leave this place. Either they drown because they forgot to catch a breath or two," he smacked his lips again, "or they disappear into this or the other dark passage, paying no heed to where it might lead."

Kicking a large piece of broken crystal into the water, the rippling wake reaching Ishtar's shore with its gentle lapping, the troll bemoaned, "Anyway, yep, you guessed it, all them indecisive people blame Timidity for their sad lot. If the Fates were kinder to them, those bad things wouldn't have happened. How sad. How sad. The Fates off and put the screws to 'em again."

He suddenly slammed his fist into an opened hand. "Well, it ain't the Fates' fault! They were just accommodating those lazy, mindless, timid no-goods who refused to take responsibility for their own lives. There isn't any Fate unless one wills it. They aren't real, less someone wants 'em to be. It's just an excuse for lack of common sense and wisdom. Oh, yes, bad things happen that are beyond a body's control, like lightning striking out of the blue, but that body had to place itself where it could be hit by the lightning to make it happen. Who's to say the lightning wouldn't have struck the same place anyway if 'n no one had been there? None of us know."

At that, the troll returned to the fire and sat down, facing it. "There. I've told you as much as you need to know, or as much as I'm willing to tell. Your father was smarter than you, didn't take nowhere as long to figure out what needed to be done as you have, didn't pester me with all those silly questions either."

Ishtar stood, peering across the waters. "What of my mother? Has she come this way also?"

The troll harrumphed, "Everyone comes this way at some time. Your mother passed through here long ago."

"What of her?" Ishtar asked, concerned. "What became of her? Did she go out too, like my father?"

Folding his arms on his chest, the old troll harrumphed again, shaking his head, "I don't do no family reunions! Your mother was here, stayed a long time...maybe." He glanced toward the water. "I ain't gonna tell you any more." He stirred the dying embers with the unburned end of a little stick. "Stay as long as you like. Sort a' quiet here most of the time anyway. Nice place to rest up. No need to go on that journey of yours. Only lots of trouble it will be, dangerous too."

"What journey?" Ishtar quizzed. "Tell me of the journey if you know."

The troll shot an angry glance over at the girl, rubbing his hungry stomach. "Ain't no journey you need to know about. Stay here and rest up a bit, wait awhile in this place. It will grow on you. Soon you'll like it here as much as I do." He smacked his lips one more time.

"Tell me of my journey!" Ishtar demanded.

This did not set well at all with the troll. He waved her off and got up to leave. "Too nosy it is! Tires us out..." He trudged off, disgusted, disappearing into the cave from which he came.

Ishtar screamed out in frustration, clenching her fists, ordering the troll to return. Nothing... Not one peep or sound came from the cave. Angry, the girl sat to pout. She didn't want to be here, never wished to be. It wasn't her fault that all those bad things had happened to her. And the journey? There must be other guiding hands placing her on their fated road. There was nothing else for the girl to do but to surrender to whatever the Fates had decided.

Ishtar's head suddenly snapped up, eyes wide, her thoughts all a-twirl. What were the troll's warnings? 'They always blame the Fates for their laziness, mindlessness, and timidity. There are no Fates unless we will them, invent them, and allow them to take over our lives.' Was she inventing the Fates in order to avoid responsibility for any actions taken or not taken? Was the old troll right when he accused her of being no wiser than the others who mindlessly followed anything that glittered in the darkness? Was she too lazy to even seek a path of escape? Ishtar sat down, dismayed, burying her face in her hands, and wept. Soon the distraught child fell fast asleep.

Ishtar awoke to a sound like that of a light wind drifting among the trees. She opened her eyes, half expecting to find herself in a grassy field somewhere far from where she had been. But, no, not at all! Indeed, the girl was still sitting on the exact spot where she had last seen the old troll. Then what was all the noise about? It had been very quiet before, with only an occasional echoing drip of water falling from the ceiling high above. What was it she was hearing?

Glancing about the cavern, the girl quickly became aware of subtle changes taking place. The merry glow of the crystals appeared dimmer, gradually continuing to lose their brightness as she watched. The lake carried with it a murkiness, its waters slowly swirling about instead of their formerly becalmed nature. And the rock shelf that she sat upon did not appear to be sitting as high above the lapping waves as it earlier had. A gentle breeze caressed the girl's cheek, its damp, stale odor reminding her of some dank cellar that one rarely enters. What was going on?

It suddenly occurred to her that air long hidden in deep, dark caverns was being pushed out of its former dwelling place, but by what, and how? The sight of bubbles escaping the surface of the once placid lake betrayed an ominous reality. Somewhere, other caves once filled with air were now flooding. Possibly rain storms in the world above had unleashed their torrential madness, delivering a flood to this subterranean world. Ishtar nearly shrieked in panic at the thought that this cavern might soon become a roiling, frothing, dark abyss.

Hopping up, Ishtar ran to the rock's edge, staring down into the growing murk. What was she to do? Her first urge was to do something, anything. She didn't intend to end up like the lazy souls who slowly drowned when floodwaters rose. With heart racing, she prepared to make her escape. As she took a step to dive from the rock, part of the troll's warning riddle came to mind, crying, "They thought too fast! Too fast! Not used to thinking, they were. Thought too fast!"

The old troll had said she wasn't smart like her father. Was she really mindless, didn't think enough? Why, she never had to think before, there always being someone there to do the thinking for her. Now she stood alone upon the edge of the world with only her own thinking, reasoning, to guide her. It was mindless people who rushed off into the darkness by making rash decisions. They went too deep, or journeyed off mindlessly to end up at the doorstep of the Lord of Despair.

Ishtar wished not to play the fool, so decided to try to think things out. After all, there was still some time left for decision making. She could see far into the cloudy waters, and the stone upon which she stood remained dry for the moment. The point was time remained for her to attempt a wise decision, and then act on it accordingly.

"Let's see..." she pondered aloud, tapping the side of her face in thought as she did. Looking across the way, the girl wondered if escape could be found by swimming over to the troll's side and then making her way into the tunnel the troll disappeared through. She shook her head. "No. No. Doesn't feel right... Maybe it ends in the troll's lair, and I'll wind up being his dinner."

Looking at the growing turbulence of the lake, she wondered, 'Too deep? Too deep? Did he mean that the mindless often over-thought, went too deep in their thinking when they finally started thinking? By seeking escape in the depths far below, a person might not look for more obvious ways to get out, or they might overreach and run out of air before securing their delivery.'

She frowned, reasoning, 'Or possibly the Lord of Despair lures those people into his evil den when the darkness of the depths below overwhelms them.' The depths were no place she wanted to go. Possibly along the submerged rock-face there was an opening, or, she shuddered, maybe there were many openings, not all providing safe exit.

Ishtar stepped back from the stone's edge. What was she to do? A decision must be made, but what should it be, and who was here to help her? Decisions were never the girl's forte. There had always been someone there to guide her, help her, tell her what she should do.

Her mind filled with foggy memories of when she was caught in Despair's evil web, something about smashing a statue of sorts, but it had been such an easy decision to make. All she had to do then was the right thing. This felt so different. She needed to properly decipher the riddling clues given her and then act. The mind must sort things out properly, mustn't be hasty. Think fast, but think things through.

Ishtar rubbed her chin in thought, finally pointing while speaking aloud, "All right, the passage out must be along that far rock face, because that was the direction the troll always glanced in when he spoke of my father going out."

There was a sudden rush of frothing bubbles erupting on the surface of the water. The flood must be growing in power. Ishtar had to decide quickly. What if she was wrong? What if the troll was tricking with her, leading her to her doom? Fear grew in a desperate heart. The girl's hands began shaking. What was she to do? Doomed, doomed she was, just like all the others who trusted to the Fates instead of taking matters into their own hands and acting with determined resolve!

A sudden rush of foam exploded from the waters, drenching the girl and soaking the stone. Hopelessness enveloped her, she shrinking away from the rising water in desperate hope of finding a secure perch to wait out the flood. Ishtar reasoned maybe the rains above were not that great and the flood would die down soon. Or possibly there was a hidden passage on this side of the lake that she could use for flight, and flight it must soon be, or she, too, would become just another meal for the troll to feast upon.

"No!" Ishtar shouted in defiance, planting her feet where she stood. Her father was a brave man, born from a long line of brave men. The troll said he did not cower here, but took the contest to Adversity and defeated it. She was a child of his blood.

'Come back carrying your shield or on it.' That was the motto of her father, learned from the Spartans and adopted by his company when he served in the Roman Legions. Well, she was no coward either...scared for sure, but not willing to surrender to what might appear a hopeless moment.

Ishtar stepped forward until her toes hung over the rock's edge. Under the water, far forward and off to the left, there must be a passage leading out of this place, and she was going to find it. At that, the girl pushed off from the outcropping, diving in head first.

Struggling in the turbulence of swirling bubbles mixed with litter scoured up from the bottom by the inrushing flood, Ishtar fought her way to the far end of the cavern. Clinging to the chiseled rock-face, she looked about while catching her breath. Already the outcropping that had been home during her visit here was awash, gone from sight in the fading light. Soon this world would be dark, leaving the girl to search for the passage, blind. She shuddered, remembering just how black these places could become.

Sucking in a giant breath, Ishtar dove below, along the rock-face to find her way out. Down she swam until she reached the edge of light. In the ghostly shadows of the underworld, the girl began her search. At least the currents were not so violent, the water not quite as murky. Here, along this wall and away from the storm, the girl felt hopeful, her trepidation slowly subsiding. As dread fled from her, she could begin to think about the task at hand. She was finding that committing to this journey by leaving perceived security behind and diving headlong into the unknown had somehow given her the courage to continue the quest, and had sharpened her mind to handle the task at hand.

It soon became apparent the entire submerged cavern wall was riddled with passages large and small. Some gushed dirty, filled with debris washed down from the raging storms outside. Others washed warm over the girl's naked body as she swam past the openings. She reasoned that those passages went down into the depths of the earth, to the realm of the Lord of Despair, or possibly worse, to the very heart of the fiery denizens of even greater evil far below.

Then there were the wide, calm passages leading off into placid darkness. How tempting to seek refuge in places seemingly safe from the turbulence of the excited ocean around her. More than once, the desire nearly overcame Ishtar to slip away into such peaceful repose. After all, there might well be many caverns that had not flooded, would not flood, and in one of these she might seek some respite from this gathering tumult until she had time to contemplate a decisive move.

Suddenly the words of the troll flashed through her mind. 'The lazy do not think, but take their ease and go off to drown.'

Yes! These tunnels might well lead off into comfort and safety, but more than likely they disappeared into black, empty abysses filled with fetid waters long void of life and hope. Off she swam, racing to the surface to recharge famished lungs. Returning again to the shadows, the girl began anew her search to depart from the Land of Uncertainty.

Diving past a submerged outcropping, Ishtar was suddenly swept into a swirling void filled with roiling masses of bubbles and debris. End over end she tumbled, slamming and crashing into the passage's jagged walls as she was sucked through a violent, twisting vortex of flooding waters racing into the dark unknown.

While spinning helplessly along with this raging madness, the girl slammed into a rocky protrusion. Life-giving air forced its way past gritted teeth as the shock of the unexpected blow bruised ribs and collapsed tired lungs. Even though being knocked nearly senseless, the girl refused to surrender to certain destruction. In desperation, she clutched hold of the rocky protrusion then slowly began to fight her way from this approaching certain doom.

When hope of escape was waning, aching lungs screaming for air, and fear of dying growing certain, the watery onslaught suddenly stopped. Before Ishtar could grasp what was happening, a violent rush of air bubbles came racing up from the cavern depths far below and caught the girl up in their angry excitement until the storm tossed her unceremoniously from the passage back into the open water and up to the frothing surface of the lake.

The pain of bruised ribs and torn flesh went unnoticed until the frantic ache of starving lungs was satisfied. Ishtar groaned in discomfort as she struggled to keep her head above the water. It was obvious that she had suffered many injuries from her recent misadventure, but there was no dry footing remaining in this growing flood to examine the damage. Besides that, time was running out. Not only was the flood growing in power, and the crystal lights losing their glory, Ishtar needed to find a way out before she succumbed to her injuries. The only thing remaining for her was another diving attempt to find a safe exit.

Again she filled her lungs with air and plunged back into the depths, her body crying out in agony as she fought her way down through the troubled sea. Although the pain from her many injuries was excruciating, the girl refused to surrender the moment. She was not going to become a meal for any troll, at least not here, not in the Land of Uncertainty! If she was to die, it would not be while timidly cowering in this abysmal ocean, but fighting her way to escape from it. And escape it now was, or be forever lost to this evil place.

Kicking hard against the agitated waters, Ishtar struggled into the depths that now reached beyond the fading light. Although not knowing the way of escape, she did understand well the different forms of entrapment. Gliding down through the dark, murky waters, the girl made sure to remain far enough away from the rock-face so as to avoid being sucked into another deadly tunnel while at the same time remaining close enough to discover any possible opening leading her away from here.

The pursuit was not an easy one, so many being the tunnels and passages that appeared to offer delivery from this foreboding place. Some were filled with raging turbulence while others offered warmth and serenity from the growing tempest. Still others reached out to gather up the unwary and effortlessly deliver them to some place far from here. Ishtar was now wise to the tricksy ways of this underworld, believing the troll used riddles to toy with the unfortunate souls ending up here. She was also beginning to believe that the Lord of Uncertainty might well have delivered the floods to entrap his victims, all the while professing his innocence regarding their demise.

Finding no safe exit, Ishtar swam further down into the growing darkness. Sight alone might well lead her astray. It could be so easy to mistake a dangerous passage for little more than harmless shadows. No! Trusting to sight alone was dangerous. 'Think. Use your mind. Use all your senses." Yes, that was what the girl must do - sharpen her senses, feel, listen, discern, taste. Taste? She laughed to herself thinking how foolish it was to believe that taste could gain her escape.

Her laughter suddenly stopped, she frowning with curious perplexity. It was dark down here, her thrashing hands little more than fleeting shadows. Sight was useless, and the surging waters, filled with frothing bubbles and filth, flowed cold and hot, confusing her other senses. Everything was directionless. Yet when the girl turned her head a certain way, she could sense a fresh taste in those waters. Somewhere near was a passage or opening delivering clean, unpolluted water - water that must be coming from outside, but not a product of the flooding downpour. Ishtar began to swim in the direction where the water tasted cleaner.

The girl laughed to herself. The troll revealed the secret of escape, not by what he spoke, but by his actions. Yes! Smacking his lips was the clue, always smacking his lips. Look for the tasty path, the path that tasted right, clean. By seeking answers from riddling words, one might only find solutions that satisfied the heart, the desires. But by tasting the universe around her, she could discover the reality, the safe passage away from this dismal world.

The old fellow spoke winsome words to confuse the heart and befuddle the mind. When the reality sank in that the riddling words only misled his chosen victims, it was often too late to make escape. Yet, bound by the desire to remain forever innocent, the troll needed to confess the reality, the way out.

Escape? No, wait, the troll declared escape to be unnecessary. That meant the path was always open. A person only need use their common senses to find it. Sight alone, credulity, may well betray a trusting heart. As her father often said, 'Little good are eyes that see only what the heart desires to see. And the darker the night and uncertain the journey, the more willing the heart is to believe whatever the eyes declare to be real.' On the girl swam.

Ishtar soon discovered a rather large opening in the side of the cliff wall. Round it was, about four cubits across. Fresh and clean to the taste its purging waters were, and cool like that of late spring morning it was to the flesh. Again her father's words came to mind. 'You must taste the sunrise. It smacks of the joy of life.' Was this the sunrise to a new life, a new beginning? Whether or not, the girl was confident that this was the way out of the Land of Uncertainty. Although tired, and with aching lungs, she entered the opening and began to fight her way against the current, pushing further and further into the black unknown.

It is a funny thing about dreams. A person can do such amazing things and yet never consider it odd or out of place. Ishtar's lungs were aching to the bursting point, their need for fresh air excruciatingly clear, yet on and on the girl swam, ever fighting against the strong current in her search for release from this watery underworld.

Although Ishtar believed she had chosen wisely, the journey was not without its perils and dangers. Sharp bends and jagged obstructions often barred the girl's path, causing new injuries, forcing her to search out her advance with outstretched hands, slowing her pace. And the total blackness played tricks on her mind, creating a world filled with dancing orbs of flashing whites, greens, blues, and haunting yellows. Then there were the screeching hoots and ghostly cries that echoed along the passage. Whether these noises were games played upon the ears or the wails of a distraught troll, it mattered little. Ishtar was determined to continue on and not allow anything to dissuade her.

Eventually the girl noticed a faint glow that appeared so very far away. At first she believed it to be another false vision of the mind, but when it did not fade, hope began to grow in the girl's heart. No, indeed! The ghostly, golden glow slowly drew ever closer, or should it be said that Ishtar drew ever closer to the golden glow. All so quickly, she burst forth from the tunnel's blackness into the shimmering light of a planter's moon, its round, smiling face dancing in the sky above the surface of a huge, rippling pool. With her last bit of energy, Ishtar forced her way up from the depths far below, crying with joy after sucking in her first breath of life-sustaining air.

Ishtar's joy was short-lived. Before she could ascertain where she was, two long arms swooped down and scooped the child from the water. High up the shocked girl was lifted until she found herself staring into two huge, gray eyes that looked out from a giant, weathered, beech tree. No, wait! It was a beech tree with eyes, and... and also a mouth!

Pulling the girl close to have a better look, the old beech mused, "It is such a puny little thing, isn't it? Oh well. It is as I expected." The beech grinned, "Welcome to my world. Been expecting you..."

Surprised by her own reply, Ishtar quizzed, "Expecting me? How did you know I was coming when I did not know it myself?"

Yep, dreams are such queer things. Talking trees we ignore while asking other silly questions.

The old beech smiled while slowly lowering Ishtar to the ground. As he released her, he looked down, answering, "Why, it was the saintly hemlock that called out to me, telling of your coming arrival."

Looking up, Ishtar asked, wondering, "How did the hemlock know for certain that I would stay on the trail, or even survive my journey through the Land of Uncertainty? That is, if he knew of that land and its dangers?" Then she grumped, "And if he knew about the evil troll, why did he not warn me about him?"

The old beech answered, surprised, "Why, the kindly hemlock need not have warned you of a thing, nor did he have to save you from those weedy field people. A kindness he provided out of consideration for you, because you are a foolish thing, and careless also, may I add."

Raising his eyes toward the moon, the beech confessed what he considered to be the obvious, but to the girl was so profound. "Land of Uncertainty? Old troll? Child, from the moment you awoke in my world, you have been in the Land of Uncertainty. Indeed, you have always lived in the Land of Uncertainty. Never will you escape it. As long as life exists, Uncertainty will always haunt the shadows."

Lifting a bough, he continued, "The troll you speak of, the Lord of Uncertainty, tries not to hold you in his world, for his world always surrounds you. He seeks instead to paralyze you into inactivity, to make you useless to yourself and others."

Gently sweeping his leafy branches through the girl's hair, the beech explained, "Uncertainty is your ever-companion. The trail you took through the woods was one of your choosing. My dear friend, Hemlock, warned you of the dangers that exist when you lose sight of the trail you are on. You may get lost in the forest and never find you way through. That is the desire of some of the aged trees in the forest. They know you will change their world and they will resist it - old wine skins and all that stuff."

At that, the old beech removed from an upper limb a beautiful gown, the same as the one Ishtar had earlier worn. "Here, lift your arms high."

Ishtar obeyed.

The beech then slid the gown down over the child and adjusted it carefully. "There!" he laughed, "Pretty a picture as just might be."

He then took Ishtar's hands, caressing them with his leafy fingers and frowned, "Be wary, my child. Your journey is only beginning, the Lord of Uncertainty being but one of your many adversaries. He is not really such a bad fellow. Yes, his desire is full of selfishness, and his counsel self-serving, but he did teach you the way out of Uncertainty's trap. Learn to use the wisdom of others, even when they do not appear kindly. Trollish wisdom may still be lifesaving wisdom. Be careful of the smiling kiss giving undo praise while offering wisdom."

Ishtar was full of questions, but the old beech was finished with his counsel. Offering a gentle push, he pointed her in the direction she needed to go. "Your journey is yet to begin, and many are the lessons you must learn before the sun settles upon a new age. Remember well this adventure and do not forget the kindness you have received here. Even that old troll you may one day come to appreciate."

He patted her back. "Now off you go. There is much for you to see before the cock crows a new morning. Hurry along and don't be late."

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

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

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

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

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

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

The further down the other side Ishtar walked, the greater the destruction around her grew. Ishtar became so caught up in the unfolding scene about her that she failed to pay any heed to what might lay ahead. It was not until she had journeyed some distance down into the narrow valley that the girl lifted her eyes, shocked to see she was not alone. She gasped in surprise at seeing a man and woman standing across from each other in heated argument, a flaming blaze separating the two. Despite the girl's glowing appearance, or her excited reaction at first noticing them, neither paid her any attention. Indeed, it was as if she was invisible to them, the two so absorbed in their contending.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

### Section Nine:

Children of the Tempest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lowenah remained expressionless as she shrugged, "As you wish, but I doubt you understand what you're asking for."

Smiling innocently sinister, Asotos turned his attention back to that defiling creature. "We shall wait until you are ready to continue."

Trisha nodded coldly and returned to the task at hand. The small bilander, Duckling - Captain VazalGurnig commanding - was settled down in the sand a short distance away. While the three warships hovered in the sky, Mihai and her diplomatic team were escorted toward Duckling to be delivered back to base camp. Accompanying them were Tabitha Copeland and General HoiOnarasis, with orders to ready Dogie for quick departure. Trisha quietly watched until everyone boarded the transport and disappeared inside.

Asotos also stood quietly, studying not Duckling but this new specimen that needed thorough dissecting, first in mind and spirit and second in body. What a tantalizing idea! He now focused his entire attention upon the creature confronting him, watching, listening and feeling for any and every subtle inflection in the harmonics that might reveal some secret or weakness concerning it. Raising an eyebrow, surprised, he discovered a great deal more about this creature than it was knowingly revealing.

He smiled, intrigued. Without Erithia's cloak of protection surrounding this thing, it was spewing out all sorts of emotional secrets. He cocked his head ever so slightly, listening to its troubling music wafting upon the breeze. Even without its physical genetic blueprint, Asotos was able to determine so many things concerning its makeup. Most noteworthy was the creature's not so secret scorn, nearing that of contempt, for many in Michael's ambassadorial entourage. Indeed, this creature revealed such deep-seated anger and frustration as to indicate its resentment for even being in this world.

Disquiet, discontent, sadness, rejection - these and other feelings were shouted out to Asotos' senses. He saw no happiness residing within it. Just how troubled it must be! What tortures and tribulation of mind and heart must this abomination of living things have suffered at the hands of Erithia's loyal children to turn one of her personal creations into such a malevolent being? A trade off, he supposed, so that the creature might have the power to face this greatest of adversaries. This thing was no coward. That was for sure. Now, with Erithia's stolen magic removed, it should be an easy matter to exploit the creature's weaknesses for his benefit, having discovered many chinks in its armor.

Trisha turned her attention back to Asotos. "Stand your soldiers down, and have them leave their weapons on the ground before backing away from the line."

Asotos put up a halfhearted protest, more for show and bravado than out of concern. He knew the gig was up, but felt at little risk, at least for the moment. If this creature intended a coup against them, it would have been a long-done deal, this thing having the upper hand already. Besides, there were many ways to win a struggle, mortal combat being just one.

Already Asotos mind was percolating with an idea that might well afford him a greater prize than even Michael. After all, the capture of that woman would have satisfied little more than his vengeful spirit. Erithia's surrender of the Palace over the loss of her favorite child was not a certainty. But here stood a new creation of the evil witch. What could his scientists discover by careful dissection of its mind and body? What abilities had she built into this new machine that he might be able to use to his advantage? Technology was technology, whether mechanical or biological, and that was what this creation must be, a new technological invention, a potential super-warrior possibly. He smiled in thoughtful anticipation.

Sirion began to stir, struggling to sit. Despite Eutychus' adamant requests of offered assistance, she refused. From a broken mouth and through bleeding lips, she demanded to be left alone. Surrendering the moment, he and the others stepped back to give the girl room, all the while remaining close enough to help if need be.

Slowly and painfully, Sirion rolled over. With outcries of agony, she exerted herself, and with all her strength pushed herself up and onto her knees. After several failed attempts at standing, she surrendered to Eutychus' offer and took his hand, releasing it as soon as she was on her feet. Standing proud and defiant, the girl took first one tenuous step forward, slowly followed by another.

The people in Mihai's camp went wild with jubilation, shouting and waving hands high in the air. Although not yet understanding the real emotion behind it, what they were witnessing was the spirit of defiance rising up in the hearts of the children of the New Age, Sirion a current example. The message, not yet fully comprehended by the many, was that the old ways were finished and that a new and savage leadership was ascending the throne.

Every step Sirion took toward her approaching destiny was a declaration that her kind no longer carried the banners of protocol and diplomacy, would not. Her feet were trampling them into the dust of forgotten dreams and false hope. Blood, fire, and slaughter were the new colors for the coming commanders of this universe.

The future would witness death and destruction on a scale unimagined even by the hardened veterans watching the girl haltingly make her way toward them. Entire armies would wither away like spring grass under the scorching heat of a torturous sun. Star systems would long echo empty of the sound of mankind, and cities would become forever charred and ruined. Yet the voice of the chandler calling all peoples to a violent end was not to be silenced. 'Buy my goods with your lives, your souls, your very breath. Death! Death I promise you, and for a good price, too. A fair trade, I assure you.'

(Author's note: _Long years later, that same woman coldly replied when responding to an armchair critic regarding the wanton violence her kind ushered in upon the world, 'In that hour, a blood moon rose above the universe. To this day, its crimson pall remains, covering my world. We, the children of that age, have not forgotten nor shall we. Our swords are ever at the ready to destroy evil before it comes to power. We - my kind - still practice the arts of war so that your kind may never have to learn it, endure it. We live with the memory of what we have done, asking no absolution, so that our nightmares do not become yours_.')

Sirion slowly, painfully, shuffled toward her companions, eagerly awaiting the woman's arrival in their camp. Each step was a concentrated struggle of a determined mind fighting the frailty of a tortured body. Without warning, she came to a sudden halt, rocking back and forth on wobbly legs. Before Eutychus could reach out to offer a steady hand, a violent shudder raced through the woman, shaking her from head to foot. Grasping her head, she let out a cry and bent low.

Eutychus grabbed Sirion's arm in hopes of preventing a fall. To his surprise, she shook free of his grasp and turned toward Legion, fists clenched. Filled with renewed energy, this bony, brutalized little creature marched up to him and, catching him unawares, clutched hold the talisman bag secured over his shoulder.

Yanking hard, Sirion screamed, "Give 'em back! Give 'em back! They're mine! They're mine!"

Legion began to resist, telling Sirion to leave him be. He would undoubtedly have become violent had he not been staring down the barrels of the gunners' heavy caliber projectile weapons. "Leave me be! Go away! Go away! You're free to go! Now go away!"

Eutychus observed, baffled by the desperate struggle Sirion was putting up to get that shoulder bag. As he watched the two fighting for possession, his attention was drawn to the bag itself. When the realization hit him that the bag was the product of the girl's very flesh, he howled in rage, lunging forward while drawing his fighting knife.

"Give it up, you bastard, or I take it off you!" he roared, raising his blade.

Few men dared face Legion, let alone threaten or confront him. Now an angry giant of a beast, nearly the size of one of his own creation, a feller, was intent on his destruction should he not surrender what was rightfully his to possess. The bag and contents within were his trophies of war, his badges of courage. The mummified fingers, toes, ears, noses, and other body parts were his talismans, proof of contests won, his heroism proved in the face of his enemies. They were part of him, his very soul.

The blade was only inches from Legion's face when he cast off the purse and jumped away from certain death. This was madness! Now it was his turn to howl, but in dismay and defeat. Asotos was in no position or in any mood to defend his loyal lieutenant. No need risking them both. After all, if Legion met his demise, someone should be there to sing a pining eulogy. Besides, Asotos was developing other plans, and his intervening in this affair might upset them. And it was partly Legion's fault for earlier failures. If the fellow was killed, it would be a personal loss but not an unjust reward for his ineptitude.

Sirion did not leave. She held the bag close to her chest, breaking into a garish grin. Legion was so perplexed by what he was seeing that he stopped his ranting and began to stare into this woman's horribly disfigured face. There was something very unsettling about her looks, uncanny even for his world. Then he saw it, another being staring out from behind the girl's undamaged eye.

Through Sirion's broken mouth, a voice from inside the woman spoke out in cackling contempt, "It has waked. It has waked. 'Oh, give me mercy! Give me mercy!' it cries, though nothing but the butcher's dogs does it receive. Oh, but now it smells the blood of the one murdering it, it does! It does! Daughter of the Gorgons it is. It takes what it wills and when it wants. Numbered are the days of the walking dead. She broke out in hideous laughter, finally cooing, "Pleasant dreams, my brother."

Sirion turned and hobbled away to be gathered up in waiting arms. Eutychus threateningly stared down Legion as he backed up a safe distance, and then quickly departed. Legion could only stand there, attempting to salvage what little dignity he had remaining, all the while silently puzzling over Sirion's disquieting riddle

Asotos did nothing, his attention again focused upon the creature opposing him, pondering curiously. While the others celebrated with outcries and tears, this strange creature showed no emotion, only watching quietly as the others jubilantly rejoiced at the return of their sister.

Pointing toward Duckling, Trisha quietly gave orders to two of her gray-cloaked lieutenants. "Get Sirion and the others aboard, and then re-deploy your line. Finish this up quickly, for I've other business to tend to."

Her lieutenants acknowledged the orders and hurried away. Turning her back on Asotos, with hands clasped behind her, she silently watched as her commands were carried out.

Asotos was completely intrigued by what he was witnessing. Did this creature have a soul, or was it little more than an intelligent machine? No...it had feelings, very bitter feelings, hurt and anger. This was knowledge he could use to his advantage.

The gunn trucks' turbines suddenly cut out, the machines settling down upon the sand as the whine of the engines slowly fell silent. When all was quieted, the trucks' crews stood down, quickly exiting the machines and taking up their stations beside them.

Trisha's stoic deportment was so outlandish to Asotos that he failed to contemplate the scene unfolding about him - a serious mistake. Had he been paying close attention, he would have become aware that everything taking place had been anticipated, carefully orchestrated, and precisely executed. Arrogance and self-aggrandizement can paint dark shadows over the keen perception of the greatest intellect, especially in people like Asotos, who never saw those traits in himself.

As the gun crews stepped out into the fading late afternoon sun, Duckling gently lifted up and drifted off to the west, the three gunships following closely. What a fool! One moment this creature had the upper hand, controlling the very life and breath of the entire assembly, and now, except for a few marines and a handful of those gray-cloaked privateers, she and her people were at the mercy of a still very functional military force. Still, Asotos pondered matters. It would be wiser to carry out his plan and spring the trap before setting his army loose. He glanced over to his right at the strange fellow with the threatening smile. Yes, it would be wiser to carry out his plan and spring his trap first.

Trisha slowly turned around, hands dropping to her sides as she stared into Asotos' face. She directed her attention toward him, ever so calmly speaking, "The sun waits upon none, be he wise or a fool. Shall we conclude our business this day, and then be done with it?"

Now was the time to request the return of his fellows, but Asotos was not concerned about them at the moment. No, not after having chanced the creature's countenance, seeing the drawn face and sadness in its eyes. This fleeting opportunity could not be wasted. Asotos had seen this same resigned and troubled look many times before. Although having won the moment, the creature was tired and distraught - tired of having to deal with the foolery of the day, and distraught because of the way the leadership viewed its very presence. The time was now – now, at this creature's peak of emotional weakness. He knew what to do and how to do it.

Asotos replied with winsome, soothing words, "Doth the sun set only upon an empty land and not a desolate heart? A world filled with distress and sadness so distressed that my own heart burns with a pity long it has not felt. Look about and see another friend or companion who loves an ailing heart for the sake of love any greater than I, brother to all these people."

Trisha looked into Asotos' eyes, confused. "Tell me, please, what foolishness does the breeze carry upon it? We are here to moot, not to draw up troublesome waters that are too bitter to drink. Let us be on about our business."

Asotos countered, waving apologetic. "Oh, but I am about our business. I am responsible to all the people in this universe. Ever is my tent open to listen to a troubled heart. Lo, the women in this land have all known my love and tender ways. You \- you are a warrior - that I can tell - great and mighty, no doubt. But I see behind the plates of steel and helm of gold the fair face and shapely figure of a woman creature. Yet I see in your eyes a storied tale of rejection and pain, scorn from the very ones you wish to love."

Trisha took a small step forward, lifting her hands, palms up. "What is pain that burns a forest when it is the river that must be crossed? We have a moot to finish, then this day can pass into forgotten shadow and the peace of dreamless sleep will come."

Smiling with feigned compassion, Asotos also took a small step while extending a hand. "Shadows and dreams? Look about. We - you and I control the hour and the day. A moot is of such little importance when I see someone struggling so from the suffering within. Please, I do not know you, yet all the women of this world I do know. Who are you, and why do you suffer the indifference of this rabble so?"

Sighing as she cast her eyes toward the sand, Trisha answered, "I am the child of a lost world long buried under the drifting sands. 'Trisha' is the name given me by the lords of this world meaning, 'the lowly one who rises from the dust'. My birth name that no one here has cared to learn, a very beautiful name, is 'ElaiaKallos'..."

"The beautiful olive tree!" Asotos exclaimed. "It is such a wonderful name, so... so... earthy." His face filled with curiosity. "So earthy... It's in the tongue..."

"The tongue of the powers of my day. My peoples' speech was a mix of that and the eastern desert trader, from which I'm descended. That man..." Trisha pointed at Paul, who had remained behind at her request, "that man traveled through my region, coming within three days' long walk from my little village. I remember him, but even he does not recall me. He spoke about obeying the great caesar of my day, though only have I read about the man after my arrival here. My home is lost to me, its location buried under the shifting sands of the eastern desert."

She sadly shook her head. "My world was very small. It was hot and dry, except when the winter rains set it afire in all its beauty. It was all I knew. Up to this day, its location has not been of enough concern for these people to bother searching it out for me. So I cannot tell you where I am from, other than to say its name was 'QaShaibJal'."

Quickly recovering from being taken aback with the inconceivable notion that Erithia had really managed, somehow, to deliver earthy life into this world, let alone life that had long since passed into death, Asotos smiled compassionately, tapping his cheek with a finger. "QaShaibJal? QaShaibJal? Now I have heard that name before." He lied. "Somewhere to the east of the land of the Greeks as I recall..." He guessed.

Trisha nodded hopefully, her eyes betraying an aching desire to rediscover the home of her birth. "Yes, yes, it was off to the east, far off, or so I was told by my mother long ago."

Silently studying this Trisha creature closely, Asotos became intrigued, his heart filling with trepidation and curiosity. Why, if this was a new invention of Erithia's, would she have been implanted with a memory of preexistence, especially one in the Realms Below? Should she not be designed to believe herself of a greater, more superior race, possibly greater than even he? The latter made sense, but not the former, unless... unless it was to trick him into thinking Erithia truly had the power to raise up the long dead, which he did not believe.

But then there were the strangers accompanying this woman creature. They were disconcerting to say the least, their very demeanor indicating little or no real knowledge of him, like that big oaf and the man off to his right who showed such disregard or even possible contempt for him. Something was up, the trickery of that witch at work here, and it could not be ignored.

Taking a chance on breaking the spell he was weaving over this woman creature, he turned to the man she had earlier pointed to. Asotos asked, concerned, "This woman says your journeys took you near her home city. Do you recall where that possibly might have been?"

Surprised that Asotos was speaking to him, Paul hesitated. Trisha looked approvingly at him, giving Paul the slightest of nods. He answered, "Many were the missionary tours I took in those latter days before my arrest and imprisonment in Rome. One journey to that area I do recall was when I departed a ship at Ephesus, spending several weeks with my friend Symeon, and then traveled east as far as... as, what is today called the 'Daganhisar Tuzlukcu' territories. I made many stops on that missionary tour and met countless people, instructing fellow believers as well as making converts. I do not recall the field marshal here at all." He looked at Trisha, frowning. "Sorry..."

Asotos was clearly distressed, and could not help asking, "So you are...?"

The man replied, nodding politely as he had done many times before when addressing Roman magistrates. "I am...was Saul, Saul of Tarsus, later to become known as 'Paul', 'PaulNomikos' as I am known today."

Asotos was stunned. Could this really be the man he had long ago attempted to destroy, and finally succeeded at, only to have his troublesome presence delivered here, into his world? Wheels of uncertainty were beginning to whirl about in Asotos' head. If these truly were creatures from the Realms Below, returned from ages past, then Erithia's twisted magic was very powerful and dangerous! An army of such monkey children could turn the battle, the war, even if they were only used as cannon fodder.

Little could he chance allowing any more of these miscreants being delivered here. Something must be done to stop it today, but later. First, he must finish this most important business. Asotos smiled ever so slightly. If he was successful, he might need not worry about the other pressing issue.

He eyed Trisha. Field marshal? Troubling, but he mustn't become distracted and lose game. "Well, ElaiaKallos," Asotos smiled sadly, "I am so sorry that your arrival here has not been celebrated with greater enthusiasm. I assure you that had I known of your presence and needs, I and my people would have scoured the planet until we could have found your lost home. It is such a pity this little thing was not already done for you." He glared disapprovingly at Lowenah and the diplomatic assemblage surrounding her.

Trisha took another step forward, her hands gesturing in concert with her mournful expressions. "But you are said to be such an evil, dark lord, the Great Satan, usurper and reviler of all good things. How can I trust to the words you speak?"

Tears grew in Asotos' eyes, running down his face. "As with you, this world has been cruel and deceitful regarding me, my reputation tarnished by lies, my home stolen from me, and the very children I so dearly love driven from my company."

He stepped forward, hands out, voice pleading, "As with you, I am so lonely, seeking to have the injustice served against me revealed and those responsible for it properly disciplined."

The man wiped a tear from his cheek, shaking his head. "But I care little for that, seeing this dear child from other worlds being so distraught over the malfeasance committed against her. Oh, how the villainy and dastardliness of this lot distresses me! What can a humble man as I am do to provide succor for my cherished sister?"

Tears now filled Trisha's eyes. She was caught up speechless, searching for words to make reply.

This was easier than Asotos had calculated. Just how stupid was Erithia anyway? Surely no common sense at all... Here she delivers the dullards, the misfits of lost worlds to pollute these glorious realms, thinking that somehow they will succeed where her own children have miserably failed, and she never bothers to contemplate the consequences. Oh, what folly!

A sigh carried upon a breath of despair flowed from Asotos' lips. Spreading his arms, he beckoned Trisha, "Oh, my darling little sister, come and weep with me, and we shall find the answers we both seek."

Trisha hesitated, contemplating.

Ardon looked up at Lowenah, consternation growing on his face. She chanced him a stern glance that told him to stay out of matters. This was Trisha's moment. The woman must choose for herself what was good or bad. Her choice might well decide the future fates of this universe, but it was hers to make. Lowenah had purposed it to be that way.

Trisha, too, reached out, slowly advancing, tears streaming down her face. "May it be so..." she sobbed.

Asotos grinned. In only seconds, the woman would be close enough for him to inject her with the venom hidden in his ring. In moments, she would be his prisoner to have and to keep. What a treasure! What a priceless treasure! He spread his arms wide to receive her embrace.

Trisha carefully listened to the harmonics as she approached Asotos. Long had she studied brain patterns and signals of thought processes, and how they disturbed the harmonics. Every physical move must first be preceded by action in the brain, the energy released causing a fluctuation in the surrounding harmonic field. Trisha was birthed into this world with the uncanny ability to feel the slightest of these disturbances, and her studies helped her with their interpretations.

Trisha stepped in under Asotos' outstretched arms, staring into his eyes, which were only inches away. She waited, breathless, peering deeply into his ocean-blue orbs. Then she felt it, the signals being sent from Asotos' brain to his nervous system, commanding it to close his arms about her.

Still staring, she cooed sinisterly, "It is time..."

In an instant, Asotos went from contemplating the total naivety of this creature to puzzling about her to abject confusion. The gaze of a child forlorn disappeared, replaced with the savage glare of a maddened beast filled with vengeful rage. Simultaneously he felt a hand grasp his belt, yanking him forward, while an explosive pain tore through his groin.

"Keep 'em up!" the woman snarled, her face only inches from Asotos. "Keep your arms high or I'll slit you clear to your chin and let the dogs eat your guts for dinner!"

What? What was this? Asotos hands shot high, his mind attempting to grasp what was happening. This...this creature had a weapon hidden, maybe up her sleeve, a derker blade possibly. Whatever it was, his armor had been no match for its power. Gone was the woman's lonely remorse and forlorn demeanor, replaced with bitter hatred. How was this possible? Her rejected sadness had been real, he knew for a fact that was so. How had she tricked him into not seeing what else lay deep in her heart?

As the stark reality became clear to Asotos, he realized he had been set up. This creature was cold and calculating, her simmering hatred for him openly revealed. She wanted him to know that he was the one who had been played. Everything the woman had done was for a purpose - a cold, calculated purpose. But what purpose?

A wicked smile grew across Trisha's lips, her hand shuddering ever so slightly. Asotos felt the blade's point painfully jabbing deeper into his flesh. Long had it been since fearful uncertainty grew in the man's heart. This could not be happening! He cried out in disbelief, "How dare you treat the king of this..."

Trisha shoved the blade deeper as she hissed, "Give me a reason, and you won't be going home this day. Just give me a reason..."

This was impossible! It couldn't be! "The very law of Lowenah has forbidden any harm be delivered against me!"

Trisha snarled, "I'll feel guilty in the morning! Since when have you cared for anything my God has spoken? I am not come across Death and Time to worry about the consequences over removing a piece of worthless slime from this world the likes of you. I've already been delivered here to Hell! What penalty might I face? Death? Oh, what a blessing..."

"What do you want?" Asotos wailed. "I've given you back your people. What do you want?"

Pulling Asotos so close to her face that he could feel the woman's hot breath and wet spittle, she answered, "I want a bull's purse, you worthless worm! I want to make a woman of you..."

Desperate, Asotos shouted, "Does the mother of all living things not see the travesty being committed?"

Shocked silence! No one could believe what Asotos had just uttered. The king of the Rebellion calling out to the Maker of Worlds for help?

Trisha laughed, "Do you think begging will save you now? You have cast your savior away by forcing an oath. Now you suffer the will of my heart, for the souls of my kind you have murdered."

"You wouldn't dare!" Asotos boldly spouted, though his countenance was faltering. "You wouldn't dare..."

"I've nothing to lose, fool! Death is not so bad. If that is my reward for taking your life, then the better for it." Trisha laughed, shouting, "Beg for your life, slime weed! Beg or die!"

"How does the Maker of Worlds permit this travesty? Where is the Purveyor of Justice when law is being cast into the dust?" Asotos' voice carried far on the still, late-day air.

Nothing...

Trisha laughed derisively, "Call out to the true God. Maybe you will receive a hearing ear." She jabbed him again.

Asotos' face reddened in anger, but the dread of this monster's intent forced him to do the unthinkable. "Oh, Mother, Maker of all living things, do not allow such folly to continue unto death!"

After the longest silence, a cheerful voice replied, asking, "Are you addressing me?"

"Yes!" Asotos squealed in panic as he felt the blade cut ever so slightly into his skin. "Yes, I'm talking to you! Save me from this beast!"

Lowenah frowned. "How? You placed me under oath to..."

Asotos shouted, shaking his head in distress, "I rescind it! I rescind it! You must stop this folly!"

Lowenah urged her mount forward, stopping within speaking distance of her field marshal. Asotos grinned, looking down haughtily at Trisha. In just above a whisper, he chided, "All this foolishness is for nothing. Now be off to tend your camels..."

Trisha hissed, twisting the blade point as she did, "Only a fool monkey laughs in a tiger's face. Ask the others. I've been known to disobey orders."

The sun falling behind distant mountains suddenly cast a shadow across the company standing upon the lonely plain, catching up the wisp of a chill breeze. Lowenah looked over at Asotos, warning, "A smart fly does not buzz while still trapped in the spider's web. There is still more than your manliness in question here this day."

She then turned her attention to Trisha, who appeared not to be paying her any heed. "Commander, the prisoners have been released. Why do you still linger here at this late hour?"

Trisha growled, "We have not yet concluded our business. I am come here to pay the Kriggerman, so that my brothers may finally cross the River, knowing their murderer is no more. The boatman's charge of a 'soul for a soul' is all I seek."

Asotos howled in dismay, "It wants to murder me! It wants to murder me!"

Lowenah asked, curious, "Is that really so? The death of this man for the souls of all your brothers slain?"

Trisha sputtered angrily, "The death of all who follow this wretched thing is insufficient payment for the evil done to my kind! No payment will ever be enough."

Slowly shaking her head, Lowenah calmly replied, "You know I will not permit this man's death today. It is a promise ordained for another at a future hour. It will come."

At hearing this, Asotos unleashed a tirade against Lowenah.

She quickly shut him up. "Quiet, you! I am the Changer of times and seasons. I rescind oaths on a whim for the likes of you, and I can change your destiny whenever I so choose. Be silent and I may allow you to yet live - something you would not have offered to my little child, Michael, had I permitted you to have your way with her this day."

Asotos' angry expression instantly turned to that of shock. Erithia knew of his secret plans? How? He had kept matters quiet. Only a very few of his most trusted officers knew his intentions. How many were the traitors in his camp? Should he live past this day, there would certainly be a thorough inquisition to find out the source of the leak.

Turning back to Trisha, Lowenah commented, "Since a soul for a soul will not pay the boatman, what, say, can be done - something symbolic possibly, providing a token offering to allow your kindred the River's crossing?"

Asotos could feel the blade shaking as the woman struggled with her personal desire to cut him to pieces and her unfailing loyalty to Erithia. Her lips quivered as a heated battle raged between heart and mind. Never before had Asotos heard the Boatman singing his name. His face paled as the realization grew that his life might well end this day.

The impassioned struggle between desire and duty was short-lived, but never had the time desperately dragged so slowly for Asotos. Finally, in resigned obedience to her devotion to Lowenah, Trisha called back, "Yes, I will accept a token offering in exchange for this worm - something that will permit my kind to gather to their rest across the River. It is of far more worth than he, but it is what I demand or I shall not leave him go alive."

Lowenah was quietly surprised, but said nothing. Her new field marshal was serious, restraining every fiber of her strength to hold back from killing this man. She could tell that it was only love that controlled the raw savagery that burned in Trisha's breast. What had that caldron of evil from which she and the others of her kind come really done to them? Whatever it was, its creator, Lowenah's oldest son, was now witnessing in all its glory. What would an army of these ruthless creatures do if unleashed on this universe? Lowenah asked, curious, "Is it I who must surrender this treasure up so that you will spare him for me, or..."

"It is he!" Trisha answered, interrupting. "It is a treasure of his."

"Whatever you want!" Asotos cried, desperate. "Whatever you want, I give it to you! I give it to you!"

Trisha squinted, stretching up on her toes, pressing her face against Asotos', snarling, "Have your girly-whore get me that big-jowled beast and deliver it here..."

Asotos yelled at Legion to hurry and bring the large guard dog, Legion resisting, railing at Trisha's reference to him. Asotos demanded, "Just shut your mouth and get on with it!" sending Legion off grumbling. All the while, Lowenah sat her mount, expressionless, quiet, bemused by their verbal jousting.

Legion soon returned with a giant guard dog that weighed at least six stone. He stopped a safe distance away, still spouting complaints for the abhorrent treatment being meted out against his people. Standing up straight while extending the canine's leash, he angrily muttered, "Here! Take this and go! You've gotten what you asked for..."

"Neuter it!" Trisha demanded, never taking her eyes off Asotos. "It's far too valuable a trophy for this trade the way it is."

Legion refused to neuter the dog until Trisha jabbed Asotos with the blade, threatening him, Asotos screaming out for Legion to do as he was ordered. Finally, while two soldiers held the beast, Legion castrated it, the animal howling, forlorn. Lowenah continued silent, watching events unfold.

When finished, two of Trisha's lieutenants took the wounded animal from Asotos' soldiers. Returning to their station, they stopped, awaiting further orders. Trisha, uttering not a word, stared up at Asotos. Without warning, she jerked her arms, cursing him as she did. Startled, Asotos snapped his head up, throwing his arms high. Trisha jumped out of the man's reach before he could react, slowly backing away until rejoining her two officers.

Trisha need not have worried about being entrapped by Asotos - at least not at that moment. The man was so relieved to see that he remained alive and physically intact, he was giving no consideration to the prize that had escaped him. Still, as realization of danger passed sank in, he could not but help to retort with bravado.

Shaking a threatening hand, in an angry, self-righteous, condescending tone, he accused, "Who are you to come into our world playing the ruler over us, Trisha, daughter of the dust and child of the dung heap! Go back to your forgotten world and be done with you! You're not wanted here! Should not be polluting our world... If not for the illegitimate powers of this evil witch," he pointed at Lowenah, "you'd be nothing at all! Child of lost ages! Bastard of the living dead! Return to your forgotten past!"

Trisha leaned forward, squinting, her face reddening in rage. "Who am I? Who am I? Man of little sense, goblin-child of ignorance, your own seers spoke of me long ago, warning the likes of you regarding secret laws buried within the nature of this universe." She pointed, shaking a finger at SalakTaqadam. "Your girly-servant, the once revered AsreHalom, wrote concerning me. In his _Chronicles of TRISHA_ , he made this solemn pronouncement: 'Should the world lose its glorious light and turn to the darkness of an evil age, Sharon will return to life and birth a blood day upon the children of this universe. And a sword shall arise that will turn the world red with rivers of blood, the slain being uncounted.'"

Then wagging a finger at Asotos, she chided, "So smart and wise you are, too wise to listen to your own counselor. Do you really believe the Maker of Worlds would give her glorious creation a camel-tender's name? Fool! Listen to your prophet and learn. "T- _Tithemi!_ R- _Rhapisma!_ I- _Isangelos!_ S- _Sphazo!_ H- _Hagiazo!_ A- _Aphorizo!_ Low, that evil day will bring with it the Despoiler of Worlds, Maker of Death, Bringer of Darkness. But that is not all! For I see that by the very laws of EbenCeruboam there comes behind it the Bringer of Eternal Blackness. Yes! It is but the harbinger, Sphazo, of the one to come, the Hagiazo Aphorizo, Wraith of Damnation, known as 'Shiloh' in the common tongue."

Trisha thumped her chest with a fist, thundering, "It is I, the Sphazo, who has come into your world, High Lord over all the armies in the Heavens above and the worlds beneath! You contend with me, not your little sister whom you've toyed with for so long. I fear not death or your evil intent, for I am the evil of prophecy, long ordained to bring your house down to dust. And yet I am but a harbinger of the one to come who will deliver your soul over to your little sister to do with you as she sees it fit to be!"

Asotos was aghast over these revelations, but before he could make reply, Trisha struck again. "You do not contend with God, but with me! The Maker of Worlds is not my master, and I not her slave. I do as I wish and go as I please. I am the maker of law, and all these servants of hers will obey those laws, as they are sworn under oath to obey me."

Without warning, Trisha yanked her lieutenant's sword from its scabbard, spinning about in a blur, slamming it through the heart of the leashed dog. The animal yelped in pain, falling over onto its side, dead, the sword's crosstree hilt sticking skyward.

Trisha stepped back as she turned toward Asotos while the crowd stood there in shocked silence. Extending a hand, her eyes blazing with rage, Trisha roared, "A ruin! A ruin! A ruin I shall make it! And so the same will the manhood of the League of Brothers become. 'The hour of the crow is finished!' Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore...'"

Jebbson grinned, quietly musing, "If Poe only knew..."

Trisha put a hand to her throat, calling out, "Bring it in!"

Everyone looked up to see a dark shape appear to rise out of the western shadows. In seconds, the cruiser, DusmeAstron, was settling down in the sands near the last of the wagons, its ancient gun turrets turned in Asotos' direction.

Trisha smiled sardonically at Asotos. "You thought me left weak and defenseless, a dimwitted fool. You do not yet know who opposes you." She shouted over to her officers to board the gunships and bring up the horses.

Asotos was stunned speechless, pondering what he was really witnessing. He did not accept Trisha's claimed abilities, but was cautious enough to consider what she said. No doubt about it, the woman was savvy, more so than Gabrielle in some ways, but she was brash and over-confident, traits that could be easily exploited. He would see to her another time, maybe send agents to test her out...maybe.

While Asotos observed, the gunn trucks retired from the field, slowly making their way up the huge ramp and into the belly of DusmeAstron. Horses were soon delivered to Trisha and her party. After mounting up, Trisha called over to Lowenah, requesting her aide-de-camp be delivered to her. Lowenah nodded, smiling, while motioning to an officer standing somewhere in the shadows behind her. At a bounding run, the man made his way over and in seconds was mounted up, awaiting further orders.

Much to Asotos' surprise, Trisha quietly bantered with her immediate officers while preparations were made to depart, acting as if the day was little more than a casual outing. When things were readied to her satisfaction, she ordered the prisoners be released. As they hurried away from their captors, the field marshal turned her attention back to Asotos.

Urging her mount forward until it stopped beside the murdered dog, Trisha looked over and down at Asotos. "My king has given to your kind all these treasures delivered here this day, including the war horses from hidden worlds. I will not rescind the will of my king. These things I leave behind as her payment to your people for claimed deeds done."

Trisha leaned forward in her saddle, squinting as she snarled, "There will be no more moots after this day, in this world or those below. When we meet again, I shall not be as kind. But for the love of my God, I would not have been so this day. I am come to reclaim the honor of the Haudenosaunez, and return the title of 'Dragon' to its rightful owners. This I will do in a coming hour."

She then angrily declared so that all would hear, "My mercy to your kind ends now!" At that, she glanced down at the bleeding animal carcass and spit on it.

Whipping her steed about, she was off on a run, shouting for the others to follow. As her troop passed under the belly of DusmeAstron, riding hard to the west, the battle cruiser slowly lifted into the evening sky. The sound of Trisha's retreating host rapidly faded and all fell quiet, other than the occasional whispering breeze that carried upon it a chill in the gathering darkness.

Asotos glared at the shadowy figure sitting her mount, his self-righteous anger over the outrageous atrocities inflicted upon him and his people welling up within him. He was about to confront his imagined antagonist when the mesmerizing music of dancing bells again crashed upon his ears. So intense was their hypnotic power that it made him wince as his heart leaped with the pain of desires lost.

At that instant, a cheerful voice cut through the darkness, stabbing the man like a knife. "So, are we finished or do you have other business tonight?"

Asotos screamed, "Witch! Evil witch! You've plagued me... us with your stolen magic all this day, ruining all that was supposed to be by numbing my mind with your treachery and demon deeds!"

Lowenah coldly replied, "I would be careful at how I spoke to the One - the only One who could and did save your life this day. I need not call my child back to bring you to a finish. Naked and alone you stand before me, and I with all my hidden powers riding with me." She again cooed, "Do we have further business or may I and my people take their leave?"

"No, you may not take your leave!" Although still enraged, Asotos cooled his rhetoric, not wishing to risk his well-being to uncertainty. "We have issues to address, that must be addressed. Those... those creatures you have delivered here, how dare you allow such vile things into our world! It is against all our living kind that you have committed such atrocities!"

"How is that so?" Lowenah asked, curious.

Asotos ranted, "You know full well. By their very design, they were flawed from the beginning. I tried to warn you - you and all the others - and what did I get for revealing the folly of your invention? Ostracism and denunciation, that's what I got. The bodies of these monkey-children should have been returned to the melting pools where other rejected creations were tossed before they could reproduce. I showed to all their flawed design, but you..." he shook a finger at Lowenah, "but you let them continue to live!" He shook his head in dismay. "And now you have delivered those same decrepit abominations into our world, brought them here to pollute this land, our home."

Lowenah scowled, "I will not debate you tonight or any other night regarding my lovely creation - one, as I recall, you were deeply infatuated with until I produced his blonde-haired companion who rivaled my child, Michael, in her appearance and beauty." She frowned, accusing, "What did you offer in return? What was your vision for those worlds but brutish men more like the wild ape than the gods, with weak minds and arrogant hearts? And what of womankind? Your choice was an enslaved servitude for all their days, blindly obedient to the real ape-men you wished to produce."

Wagging a finger, Lowenah chastised Asotos, "The minds of dullards you desired to place in my children, so fearful for your own majesty should they prove to be as intelligent as you. No! I made all my children with insightful potential equal to mine, so that one day all my secrets they could understand, and then even they could teach me new things. 'Fear no intelligence,' your own wise man, AsreHalom, once stated, as you well recall, 'but fear the stupid one with an arrogant heart.'"

Asotos pointed off toward the west, ranting, "You call the antics displayed today by those...those things...that thing insightful? Oh what folly to allow our world to be contaminated by such loathsome creatures!"

Leaning back, Lowenah asked sardonically, "Of what folly are you referring to, the antics of those monkey-children or the torture and murder of your own brothers and sisters at the hands of those in your keep?"

Asotos shrugged, piously responding, "What? How can one naked and alone be held responsible for the actions of others? You, yourself, have said that my kingdom is illegitimate. If that is so, then how do I share in the crime of another man? Little control do I have over these poor, wretched souls who flock to my arms after being cast away by you. I do the best I can, considering. I cannot be everywhere at the same time. I have no hidden powers to keep these people in check. Things will happen. One must be understanding of such damaged souls."

" _Bullshit and fiddle dee dee!"_ Lowenah exclaimed. "Blow it downwind so you don't stink up this place! I need not defend my actions or address your accusations, for everyone here knows the kind of inveterate liar and whore-master you are. I ask you what further business you have tonight. Speak up or I will take my leave."

Shocked at the rebuke, but realizing that Lowenah might not be bluffing, Asotos fought down his aching desire to return the insult. No, the fear Trisha and the other Off-worlders had put in his heart impelled him to force an agreement with Erithia that would halt any more of that rabble from being delivered to his world.

Asotos ranted, "Still, you shouldn't have brought them here."

Lowenah refused to be placed on the defensive. "Long ago I spoke concerning these sons of Adam being delivered to this place. It was no secret to you. Within the very Holy Book that you stole to accomplish your sordid purposes, the statement was written clearly that one day those who you call 'monkey-children' would enter these worlds as warriors and demon-chasers. It's not my fault if, in your ignorance, you failed to discover my words. Or did you refuse to believe that I had the power to bring them here, so paid my prophet's written word no heed?"

Asotos did not acknowledge the question, but chose to continue his attack. "By your very traditions, you have taken counsel when making weighty decisions that affect the citizens of this world. Not once have you come to the table to take up the debate as to whether our world should be opened to the likes...to any Other-worlder. This is our world, given to us long before that kind was even a whisper. You have betrayed our customs, our ways, and your very traditions. Oh, what a shame..."

He placed a hand over his heart, standing in a way so as to appear pious. "I have never claimed to rule with absolute wisdom, doing the best I can with whatever skills I have developed. You! You have always claimed mystical powers and insight, but still choose to ignore your own trusted customs in this regard. What good is the music when you dance to your own tune? How can you expect our trust when you take the twisted road?"

Lowenah quietly sat her mount, offering no rebuttal. Indeed, this was the contest she had anticipated, desired. Having appeared to be backed into a corner by shrewd speech, she asked defensively, "So what must be done to correct this oversight of mine?"

Asotos wanted to wildly rant that this was no oversight, but a willful act of malcontent. He chose not to, seeing a door of strategic opportunity open before him. He must strike now, while it remained such. These wild off-world creatures were dangerous, a real threat when conflict again arose...something already in his plans. No, the moment was now to rid him of this threat.

He shook a finger at Lowenah, demanding, "You must return those... those things back to whence they came, and promise to never pollute this world with their kind again!"

Lowenah remained quiet the longest time then finally spoke while slowly shaking her head. "This is become the home of the children I have delivered here. I will not, cannot send them back. They are now of this world whether anyone desires it or not. As for your other demand, never is a very long time, too long for such a promise."

Asotos lifted his arm in retort. Before he could speak, Lowenah made a counter-offer. "I am willing to do this..."

Asotos stopped, waiting to hear more.

"In the end, there are two opposing destinies sought by you and me: you, to retake in conquest the glory you believe was stolen from you and to capture whatever powers await you hidden in the palace...and me, to have my children drive you from this world, and to eventually hand you over to my little child to choose to do with you as she pleases. It is a horse race, winner takes all."

Lowenah leaned forward. "Should you win, I will leave this universe, never to return. It is yours for as long as time within it exists. Should I win...well, then, I will do as I have already spoken. My victory ride you will not witness."

She waved a hand. "Now here's the deal: I will promise not to interfere with coming events once hostilities have been engaged upon, and I will not deliver any more of my other-world darlings here if you take the palace, or until after my children drive you from this world." Sitting up straight, Lowenah declared what Asotos' end of the bargain must be. "For your part, you must take an oath unto death that you and your ilk will no longer directly interfere in any way with the children in the Lower Realms. You must leave them be until Salem's glory is revealed."

This was a bitter pill for Asotos, something not to his liking at all! His clandestine activities in the Realms Beneath were many and varied. This was a lopsided arrangement, totally unfair! He was opening his mouth to offer rebuff when EremiaPikros' moon suddenly broke over the horizon, its cold, silvery light casting a chill breeze over the land.

Darla shivered from the cold, her bells setting Asotos' world ablaze. He cried out, clutching his head, shouting angrily, "Who are you and why do you continue to torture me?" Still holding his head, Asotos stepped forward, impatient, shouting, "Who are you?"

Lowenah spoke up, her irritation very clear. "Why do you address my horse maiden when there is business to finish here?"

"Be off with you, witch!" Asotos pushed against the air with his hands as if warding off a blow. "Always you stop up the mouth of your servants while proclaiming their freedom!"

"Enough!" Lowenah retorted. "Speak she will, but not until our business is finished!" Asotos glared at Lowenah. Before he could make reply, she continued, "I proposed to you a deal. What do you say? Speak and finish our negotiations, and then you may seek answers to other questions."

Asotos was frustrated, his senses overwhelmed by the creature hiding in the shadows who was making that terrible, wonderful music. He could not concentrate on anything else until these most pressing questions were answered. As events of the day spun about in his mind, the need to know was driving him to distraction.

He shook his fist, pointing, "That creature has been our business all day! You have tortured me with its incessant intrusions since the morning hour. Intentional it is, and I demand my questions be answered!"

"What, this creature?" Lowenah acted surprised. "This creature, this woman, my darling child, is come a horse maiden at my request...just a horse maiden."

Asotos railed angrily, "That creature... woman has been troubling me all this day, her music pulsing in my head to effect a total distraction! You have made a travesty of our traditions by bringing her here. It is the witchery of ardor-music that she plays, and you know it."

"I'm sorry," Lowenah apologized, concerned, "I didn't know you were still into women. Have your girly-boys tired of your charms, or has your manhood become weak because of some fever? Or have manly desires faded because of the mental stress from caring for all those poor, lost souls in your keep?"

Muffled chuckles echoing across the chill air infuriated Asotos. He lashed out against his antagonist. "Your ways are crooked and twisted, filled with malice and deceit! Through public humiliation, you seek to gain your advantage over the innocence of others. You attack the very freedoms each and every citizen of the League of Brothers has been endowed with in our constitution. I – we practice openly, freely, the arts of love that move our hearts. Men with men, men with women, should they choose. It is each person's choice. Yet you attempt to make a mockery of those freedoms."

Lowenah raised an eyebrow. "So, who has endowed your people with these constitutional rights?"

Asotos' face reddened in rage, but he quickly gathered his wits about him as he shouted, "You have attempted a coup on the children by declaring your godship over them. Their endowed rights are beyond anything you could offer."

Lowenah smiled. "True, I cannot offer what is not mine to give. By the very creation of my children, they have inherited laws and freedoms beyond my ability to offer. So, now that we have settled that matter, let me ask you again, are you back into women, or is it just a passing sickness, or...?"

"Enough!" Asotos screamed. "Enough!"

Lowenah paid no attention, calmly continuing, "Or has this woman creature rekindled the old flame you once had for your sisters?"

"You deserve no answer at all!" Asotos ranted, shaking his fist. "But I deserve one from you. Who is this woman?"

Lowenah slowly shook her head. "Not until we finish our other business or this night is over and we shall leave the field to you."

"All right! All right!" Asotos surrendered to Lowenah's demands. "I agree to the arrangement. I and my people will no longer engage in any direct activities in the Lower Realms until Salem's Day, and you will leave the future to be decided without your witching powers. And, you will not bring any more of that rabble into this universe."

"Unto your death by the hidden powers of this universe if you renege on your oath..." Lowenah added.

The bells echoed across the otherwise quiet, moonlit eve. Asotos grabbed his head, shaking it angrily. "Yes! Yes! Unto death...I promise."

Lowenah grinned. "Good. Good. Now what was the other business you wished to discuss with me?"

Clenching his fists, Asotos fumed, "You know full well my business! Now reveal your secrets, witch of darkness. Show me my tormentor."

Lowenah leaned down to her right, quietly asking her darling to come forward. Cautiously, Darla stepped out from the shadows of Lowenah's mount and into the moonlight. The fragrant oils mother requested the woman wear lit up her skin with a cosmic, golden sheen in the silvery-white moonlight.

Long ago she had seen Asotos from afar, but never this close up in person. Not knowing exactly what was expected of her, Darla offered a slight bow, saying nothing. When she straightened up, the bells that had been plaguing Asotos all day fell from her breasts, hitting the ground in a thunderous crash.

Asotos gasped, not even hearing the bells. His eyes bulged and jaw dropped at what he was seeing. After catching his breath, he cried, "Schiel'ahh, what has the witch done, delivered you to this world to torment me?"

Darla had no idea who or what 'Schiel'ahh' was. In stunned silence, she stared into Asotos' face. Lowenah spoke up. "You speak a long-forgotten name, Schiel'ahh, a child of gift given to a righteous man and taken a slave by your evil henchmen. Why do you call out her name?"

His eyes fixated on Darla, Asotos excoriated Lowenah. "The one child of Earth my heart was so consumed with and you murdered her! Murdered her! Now has your evil witchery returned her here for my torment, or is she but an apparition of my cherished love sent to tear my heart asunder? Evil! That is what you are to all the sons of righteousness!"

"Watch your tongue!" Lowenah snapped. "My tolerance of your impertinence is limited. If you wish to depart this eve a whole man, keep your vessel in check!"

Asotos glared at Lowenah. In return, she smiled, "Never will I allow you the rape of Schiel'ahh. Yes, she will one day return to a world free of your intrusions, but you will not be there witness to it." She pointed at Darla. "This woman is my little child who I held close the day your revolt became manifest. Today she has been delivered here to face the man who ruined her world, a world she never got to know because of him."

Asotos stepped forward, his hand reaching out for the woman. Instantly another shadow stepped out from the darkness, blocking his path. Startled, Asotos halted, taken aback by the sudden intrusion.

Ardon stopped, standing between Asotos and the woman, an arm outstretched, fingers wide with palm out. "You have no place here!" Ardon bravely announced. "Take your stolen treasures and go back to the darkness from which you came!"

Though surprised by Ardon's bold move, Asotos quickly reacted. Lifting a threatening hand, he chided sinisterly, "So brave the monkey when its mother is near. Does the second fiddle wish to play the lead this hour, foolish jabberer, mindless wanderer, profiteer of empty knowledge, and seeker of hidden worlds? Watch yourself! Step aside or I'll not be as kind to you as at our last meeting."

As the two men glared at each other, Ardon shook a hand, warning, "Leave the distempered in peace and depart back into the Abyss to await your lasting day."

Before Asotos could reply, Lowenah's voice, having gathered the thunders behind it, raged against the two. "Be off to the Abyss with the both of you!"

The ground began to shake violently, people finding it difficult to stand. While the tumult continued, flaming sentinels appeared, burning hot, white like the sun, their brightness like static spires. Choking dust and smoke enveloped the air, blotting out the moon while strangling the lungs. In fear and dismay, many of the people fell to their knees, some beseeching strange and foreign deities while others begged for Lowenah's mercy.

Gradually the quaking storm subsided, leaving the crowd subdued and in shock, but no worse for wear, other than coated with red, powdery, talc dust. All about them were stationed thousands upon thousands of fiery sentinels, flaming, blinding white. Long had it been since any of her children were witness to these 'Cherubs', as some called them, and none ever recalled seeing them in such vast numbers or so bright. It was told by a few that the brightness of the Guardians reflected Lowenah's temperament. If that was so, then she must be in a very foul mood at the moment.

Anger blazing in her eyes, Lowenah bristled contemptuously, "There are more with me than with you! And this is but the vanguard of only one of my armies!"

She then directed her verbal storm at Ardon. "Second fiddle to a fool you are at times, and this is one such time! This is my day! My hour! My moment! Shall I ask the spit-weed to gather the tempest, then might I call upon you. You speak prattle and with brashness! Little do I doubt your bravado, but no power of wisdom exists with it. Not for the protection of my child do I see your motive, but for self-glory, fearing not the man's poison because Mother is near. Death is deserved for touching what is holy, even if it is done innocently..."

Ardon lowered his head in dismay, still not fully understanding Lowenah's scathing denunciation, or grasping the seriousness of his actions, but he did not desire her ill will. "Mother, I have acted rebelliously, seeing only a little of the picture, and carrying on imprudently. I am wrong in this instance and deserve whatever penalty you choose to mete out."

Her anger somewhat diminished, as the fading brilliance of the sentinels indicated, Lowenah commanded, "Go back to your station and do not interfere again with these proceedings, or I shall deal you a lasting blow."

Ardon turned to face Lowenah, bowing low. "Your servant..." he replied after standing erect, just before hurrying away.

Lowenah now addressed Asotos. "Riddle me this...

' _It casts itself upon the web,_

to cause to die and make life begin.

To be consumed, it does succeed,

but to make the hungry weaver bleed.

And in its death, it brings to life,

the avenger that will do it right.'"

Asotos frowned as if being bothered by a childish intrusion. "Even one of little wit will understand such a foolish riddle. It is the schulipp fly that falls by intent into the spider's web in order to be caught up by the spider. Then, when within its grasp, the dying fly implants her eggs into the spider's thorax, leaving them there to grow until they drink the spider's blood and consume its inward parts, eventually killing the spider."

Lowenah leaned forward, looking down at Asotos, sadly nodding. "So, too, must my world die..."

Confused, Asotos stared up at Erithia, waiting for her to explain her new riddle. She did not. Sitting back, she cast her eyes upon Darla. The girl was not yet comprehending all that had recently taken place. Ardon's words were stinging, when they finally sank in, but not the worst she had heard when in the company of important people. She did puzzle regarding other matters, though. Everyone about her was covered in red dust to the point of being little more than living shadows on the desert plain - that is, all except her and the man facing her. Curious...

Lowenah spoke up. "The tongue of the Serpent is smooth and cunning - a great weapon when wielded with skill. Also powerful is the secret person of the heart when carried in the hand of the modest one. These are the instruments of my choosing this night. The horses are at the gate." She cast her gaze back and forth between Darla and Asotos. "Use them wisely..."

Darla dropped the reins of Lowenah's horse, staring with trepidation into Asotos' face. This was not expected. She was not prepared for this situation. With sword and buckler, the woman was used to dealing with an enemy. Now, here stood the greatest of all villains and she bereft of all weapons save a long knife, one she was forbidden to use. Naked she stood there, awaiting whatever fate was to be hers, not knowing quite what to do at all.

Asotos broke the silence, understanding well the riddling words Erithia just spoke. This was the beginning of the horse race, winner take all. What was the prize though - this girl creature? Or was there something greater to be won tonight? Well, whatever the something greater might possibly be, first he must succeed in capturing this creature by luring her into his web.

In a voice filled with compassionate tenderness, he lifted an outstretched hand. "I see the face of a troubled child, one abused and berated by evil siblings seeking to tear away her heart and soul. Tell me, please, child of despair, who you are and what is your name?"

Well did Darla remember the smooth speech Asotos delivered up to Trisha this very day, and how empty and hollow it really came to be. Still, this man was now speaking to her, the harmonics of his words flowing into her ears and wafting upon her mind. Sweet, so sweet the melodious tunes his speech was playing within her soul, consoling, sympathetic, and... and sensual. Already she was feeling an erotic tingle growing between her thighs.

"Who are you, child?" Asotos cooed again, taking a small step toward her.

Darla stood up, razor straight, keeping her wits about her. This man was her mortal enemy. He sought her destruction. He ruined her sister long ago, attempted it again this very day. Be alert! Stay alert!

"My darling little child, fear not the foolish prattle of wise counselors." Asotos glanced into the shadows where Ardon stood. "Such pompous hubris is not permitted in my camp. Your heart is safe with me. Please, what, my cherished one, is your name? Who are you?"

Oh, what a smooth tongue - a tongue speaking words that Darla so wished to be true for her. So long she had endured the whispers and malcontent of others, the unknowing and uncaring. How could this person know so quickly her plight unless he also harbored within his bosom an understanding heart, having suffered the same? Oh, how he must be playing her at this very moment! But it felt so sincere, so real, so caring - feelings she had so long desired to receive from a man. Even Euroaquilo lacked the depth of solicitude this man was displaying.

"Child," Asotos' voice was filled with concern, "it is you and I standing upon the edge of Time, the universe waiting to discover us. Please, what is your name so that I may hold it dear to my breast and fondle its very existence?"

Nervously, Darla answered in quiet prose, "Who am I? Birthed was the name given me, 'RachelOchlah', but I am come to be called 'RachelOchranNohah', because I am a troubling thing to the people of this world. For I am the star of the evening, sinker of dreams, bringer of pain and despair, becoming a shadow-walker and demon-chaser, child of damnation and giver of death. Ugly and cancerous I am, bringing disease to all who touch me, cursed by the old age and rejected by the new."

She then pressed a finger to her chest. "So I have taken to myself a new and dreadful name, filled with woe and despair, a more fitting name for a loathsome creature as myself – 'DarlaUmehahAstrni, 'barrow watcher' - for I feed upon the dead in my night dreams and seek escape from the living in the light of day." Tears welled up in her eyes. "'Darla' is my name - bringer of torment and dismay."

Asotos was completely taken aback. This time Lowenah did not smile, nor was she bemused. Long ago her little girl had chosen that name for herself, not revealing its meaning to anyone. Lowenah thought little of it at the time, it being common for her children to do such things. Her heart began to ache with remorse over what her little child must have suffered at the hands of those calling themselves her 'brothers and sisters'. This was a chink in the girl's armor Lowenah had not seen. Had she known of it, today might have been planned differently...so, so, dangerous...but there was nothing for it now. The race was already begun.

Disarming...so innocent and open with her feelings Darla was, so disarming. Asotos could little believe the honesty of heart he was witnessing. But 'once burned, twice learned', he was not going to fall for such sincerity this time. He kept his guard up while looking for opportunity to use this newfound knowledge to his advantage.

Asotos frowned, tears filling his eyes, "Child, it cannot be so! How could this evil be permitted with the Maker of Worlds watching over you? Innocent, oh, sweet innocent sister, my little sister, my heart pains me so to think of the wickedness you have suffered."

Darla stared into Asotos' smoothly shaven face as his musical words bathed her heart and soul in hypnotic sensuality. How beautiful his eyes, strong chin, determined brow, and gracious dignity. This was no man, but a god risen up from the stories of the Ones Who Came Before! Her flesh tingled in delightful excitement, growing in intensity as sweet endearments flowed from his golden tongue. What was wrong? She brought a hand to her head in response to a growing dizziness twirling about in her brain.

Asotos advanced until he stood only inches from Darla, a mist carried on his breath, filled with the scent of manly desire. Involuntarily, Darla inhaled the intoxicating aroma, her loneliness pushed aside by a growing passion. "Darla...Darla...what an unfitting name for a goddess such as yourself. Who cannot see your beauty or feel your compassion?"

Darla sighed, anxious, as a heated rush swept through her, goose bumps rising on her skin, sweat forming on her brow. What was wrong? No man had ever roused the animal within her as he was doing! A beast was waking inside, seeking its carnal lasciviousness, heedless of trap or danger. She drew in another deep breath of the heated mist, sending her heart aflutter, throwing her mind into an orgasmic faint, a sensuous fire racing through her body until she quietly moaned with the ecstatic flow.

Asotos smiled sweetly, sensing the woman's labored breathing. "Dear one, the moon reveals love's yearnings. Have the powers of evil kept secret from you the man I truly am? 'Giver of Dreams Beyond Dreams' is my name – 'Chrusion, the Master of Love'. All your sisters have gathered their arms to me and know this to be true. Have they selfishly hidden from you these truths so that you, alone, have not experienced the fourth heaven? Malcontents they are, jealous and afraid, not caring that you, too, deserve to experience the same as they."

Asotos' voice echoed his own growing desire for this woman. "Oh, how you move me, my manly ardor seeking your flowered palace, to find its journey through scented pathways into hidden chambers of fathomless delights. Your breasts intoxicate me in ways unlike that of any other woman. To drink at the fountains of life such a delight? Oh, to make their milky springs burst forth to satisfy my thirsty palate! My darling, the gifts we could share by our touch, our embrace..." He reached out to rest a hand on Darla's shoulder as he leaned forward to kiss the woman's wanting lips.

"That is enough!" Lowenah's sharp, scolding tongue cut through the night. "Words, I said, and that is all. Trust me, I will strike should you attempt a coup with a touch or kiss."

Asotos glared at Erithia, but chose to speak no word in rebuff. Darla was nearly swooning under his spell and he dare not risk breaking it. He again took up his haunting refrains of ardent love songs, titillating Darla's imagination with his display of wanting desire. "Oh, my darling little sister, like a virgin lass you are to me. Come to my lush fields of flowered clover and learn what it is like to become a woman in the arms of a god-son. Feel my strength as we ride together on comets across the velvety skies of wistful dreams."

Like an unbridled girl waiting her first love, Darla spread her mind, opening her heart to Asotos' beckoning. As she did, he reached into her soul with his spirit, to gather hers to his. There he sang to her love's most sensual of songs, all the while crooning that this rapturous interlude was but a shadow of things to come when, soon, they would be entwining physically in each other's arms.

Darla was becoming lost in a romantic rhapsody to depths she had never experienced. The ecstasy of the moment cast lights of dancing hues across the woman's eyes with each wave of climactic delight. As this unleashed cosmic energy of emotional intercourse raced through her body, the woman felt her legs grow weak while her heart began to pain with excitement to the point of bursting. Her arms slowly closed about her body in a sensual embrace, and soon the erotic touch of excited fingers was adding to the energy of the hypnotic symphony twirling about in her head.

Asotos smiled. Long had it been since he had practiced his seductive powers to sway the heart of a woman. Well he remembered his joy when his twisting music could open the soul of the most wary of Erithia's vixens, discovering their deepest secrets to use to his advantage, to satisfy his desires. He frowned for not all had fallen to his wiles. Threatening those creatures were, with extraordinary mightiness, so he had driven them away from his company for fear they would discover the truth.

As Darla moaned in growing arousal, lost in lustful, passionate visions, Asotos probed deeper into the woman's hidden chambers secreted away from even her closest companions. How disappointing, just worthless refuse of a troubled mind and cheated heart! Little could he find to support his suspicions concerning Erithia's reasons for delivering this girl to him. Oh, yes, it was not by chance this Darla was Erithia's horse maiden, but why? What was the trickster up to? Deeper on he probed.

So easily Asotos managed to open the most secret of sealed rooms in Darla's mind. On and on the man delved until, suddenly, he found a passage far back in the recesses of Darla's mind that was so ominous and foreboding that even Asotos felt a chill run down his back. He smiled. So, there was something special about this creature, dark and sinister. His heart raced with excitement as he slowly began to make his way down the passage to guarded chambers far below.

Asotos' searching came to an abrupt stop, sending a crashing pain through his mind. A wall of impenetrable energy barred his path, the girl's mental powers so great that even as he played his most hypnotic music, she refused to allow entrance to domains beyond. Risking losing control over the woman, he gathered up all his available inner strength to see what lay beyond those guarded doors.

Surprised, Asotos let out a quiet gasp – a gasp that went unnoticed by Darla who was lost in feverish orgasms. There was something alive hiding beyond the locked passage, a beast unlike anything he had ever encountered either in vision or reality. In anger it hissed, recognizing him by calling out his name, reviling him for his intrusion into its private world. It then quickly bounded away into the fathomless depths, leaving the man perplexed and troubled.

Before Asotos could gather his wits about him, he heard another creature crying out his name in despair. Far beyond his mental reach, a voice, hideous and beautiful, called out hopefully for desired rescue, like a child pleading for help from its father. Asotos jerked back, dumbfounded by what he had witnessed. Something else was alive inside this woman's mind that sought escape from this prison, something so hauntingly familiar, something longing to be with him!

At that instant, Darla heard the faintest of cries echoing up through the rapturous music playing in her mind and heart. The demon was waked, its evil voice intruding upon those passionately intoxicating interludes. With all her strength, the woman reached back into her mind to chase the monster away so that she might enjoy a little longer this most haunting of moments. Then she heard it, the creature calling out to the man who was giving her these dreams of dreams, beseeching him for deliverance.

Darla's eyes flew open in horror at the thought that the demon was calling out to its creator in desperate hope for rescue. She turned and stared dumbly into Asotos' face. Here stood the only man who could ever give to her the Dream of Dreams, the ecstasy of the Immortals...her greatest enemy, king over the demons of both flesh and spirit.

Gradually, reality began to sink in. The whispered tales told by Lowenah's daughters when the wine was on them held more truth than Darla had ever guessed - tales so outrageous that they made the girl's heart ache at the telling of them. Now her heartache was growing at the thought of never realizing the indescribable, heated passion experienced by those women in former days. With the ebbing of her erotic fires, the girl's heart was sinking further into forlorn despair.

What was happening? Why did she have to suffer this evil experiencing, even if only in vision, what was never to be hers to luxuriate in? Looking up at Lowenah with pleading eyes and a face reflecting betrayal, Darla choked out a mournful cry filled with lament and anguish. Her mind screamed out in a naked savagery like that of a wounded lioness mourning her murdered cubs, 'Why have you hidden these secrets from your little child? Am I so wicked so that I, alone, must receive this loss, to never reach the mountain peaks and soar above the clouds as all my other sisters have? Who are you to deliver me to Heaven's gate to only cast me into the depths of Hell?'

Backing away from Asotos, Darla turned to stare up at the bright, full moon. Chiding the girl for her insolence for even thinking she deserved better, the moon's cold, silvery light shouted out its scathing rebuke. 'See, little brattling, even the Maker of Worlds has harbored no place for you in her heart, playing the cat with you in order to toy with the man hurting her. She has used you up to the full, leaving only the empty shell of worthlessness that you already are in the eyes of everyone living. Now you also see the pain he gives, and so much you deserve it to be, misfit! Worthless little piece of filth, troubling thing...'

Asotos lifted a hand in sympathy at seeing Darla's plight, his tongue seeking to cast its magic spell over her. "My child, dearest of all my sisters, how sweet have been these fleeting moments. Oh, how much I desire to wrap you up in my embrace. You do not know the anguish of my heart at seeing my dearest child weep, and so needlessly. Come...come with your lover dear and we shall find Heaven's delights."

Darla broke into a pitiable howl as she sank to her knees. Pitching forward on her elbows, she buried her face in her hands, wailing like a mother birthing a lifeless child. Who could she trust? No one! No one! Treachery and deceit were her life-long companions, the mocking jaybird her ally. Oh, to die! Oh, the wonderful delight of feeling nothing, forever nothing.

Sitting back on her knees, she reached out toward the moon, wailing beseechingly, "Let me die! Oh! Oh, please let me die! Have mercy on me! Fall from your haughty perch and deliver me to ruination!" Through broken sobs, she cried, "An abomination I am in this desolate land, a living abortion of revulsion! Take from me your cruel denunciations and cast me from life so that I may have peace. What, am I too unfit for a warrior's tomb? Then give me a dog's grave, or that of the forgotten foe. Rest! Oh, please, kill me now so that I may find some rest!"

Hands on knees, Darla cast her gaze down and began a lament of distraught outbursts and intense weeping. Silently, all the people gathered there watched, some in curiosity, others in empathetic remorse. Asotos stood quiet, waiting the moment to pass, understanding the need for this creature to get this out of her system before he could continue. Lowenah sat her mount, saddened by the need to punish her innocent child so, but this was Rhiannon's night. The suffering of this child was only a shadow of the evil hour to come.

The blazing fires of the Guardians slowly diminished into a burning yellow glow like that of molten gold, and EremiaPikros' silvery moon rose higher into the chill of the planet's night sky. All the while, Darla's mournful weeping filled with unrequited outbursts of wailing and forlorn anguish rent the air, echoing their woeful sympathies far across the barren landscape.

Finally, in one last outburst of hopeless surrender, Darla sat back on her knees and unleashed blood-curdling howls to the night sky the likes of which few had ever witnessed. At last, when aching muscles refused to cooperate with her devastated heart, the woman hunched forward in defeat, sallow-faced, her breathing shallow and labored.

Thus came the moment of resigned surrender. Never in Darla's life, never upon the sordid fields of war, never in front of her arrogant and bigoted brethren, never in the councils when so many spoke against her, no never before in her entire miserable, dreadful existence could she recall a time when her heart was filled with such helpless despair. Without even the energy to sob, she sat there silently, a few tears still flowing down her cheeks, splashing onto the sand.

When Darla finally bent her head down in resigned despondency, Asotos made his move to accomplish complete victory. He stepped close, extending a hand, lightly stroking her hair with caring fingers, preparing to speak.

A searing pain rushed up through the back of Asotos' head and into his eyes, blinding him for an agonizing moment. Lowenah's anger rose along with the brightness of the fiery sentinels as she warned, "Touch her again and I shall smite your manhood, myself! The diseased curse of the syphilis you delivered upon my creation in the Realms Beneath I will pour out on you a hundred fold until it eats away both your sight and mind. I swear this by my name never uttered to mortal kind. I swear!"

After releasing the silky black strands of Darla's hair, the pain in Asotos' head diminished, he quickly regaining sight. Turning, he glared into Erithia's smoldering orbs. The witch's power was too great for him...for the moment. He would have to finish this game on her terms. Still, he had not surrendered yet. After all, his tongue was very persuasive, having seduced even the most loyal of Erithia's daughters to join to him. He focused his attention back on Darla.

His voice dripping with heartfelt compassion, Asotos waxed empathetic. "Oh, the folly of this night, this moment! All these loving gifts that you need so dearly I could have long ago given to you, most desirous of maidens, but for the evil done to me and to you. Look! With lies and deceit, your loving companions have littered your path so that you must walk a lonely road in desperate need of love. Come along with me and this night I shall give to you what others have hidden from you, the Dream of Dreams. It beckons to you, my passionate ardor waiting your rapturous embrace."

"The power of this man is diminished..." Lowenah interrupted, disgusted. "Long ago it was taken from him by the very Ones giving it to him. 'To the person deserving, more shall be given, but from the treacherous one shall it all be taken away.' Your own AsreHalom penned those words once, long ago, and for you so true has that statement become."

Crimson-faced, raging in anger, Asotos assailed Lowenah, "Lies! All lies! My power is even greater since I have not had to whore myself in your bed! Stay out of this, hag! My business is with this abused child, one you have cast into eternal damnation because of your selfishness and evil intent. I can provide her a cure for all her ills, even the ones you have kept hidden in secret places."

Lowenah sadly replied, her voice quietly subdued, "I have spoken the truth... Still, this is not my night to do battle. My child is grown and can decide good and ill for herself. It is her choice, her will."

Asotos grinned sinisterly. Now that he had Erithia's promise to no longer interfere, it would only be a matter of little time before this distraught creature was being whisked away to more private places. Already he was fantasizing over what the next several hours might deliver.

At that, Asotos drew close to Darla, cooing softly in her ear, "It is time, my lovely one, for you to receive your reward that has for so long been hidden from you. Come, let us depart to better places so that you, too, may receive what you so much deserve."

Darla slowly lifted her head, her gaze first falling on Asotos and then on Lowenah. The woman's tear-filled, reddened eyes silently begged, 'Why have you been unfaithful to your little child? I trusted you, asking nothing in return. The truth...the truth was all I ever asked for. Deceit! Is that my portion for my devotion? You, too? You, too? Have you also betrayed your little brattling misfit? Shall I go away, and will that leave you, too, in peace? Cracked and broken I came into this world. Cracked and broken I shall leave it...'

Lowenah silently stared down into her daughter's distraught face, attempting no reply. Would her Rachel surrender to the wiles of this man, to the sweetness of an empty tongue uttering impotent promises? Too much she had asked of her child. No one should need to endure such trials, but what else was she to do? This hour was destined to come, must come. Through Death must Life be renewed.

Tonight her Rachel must die, or at least wish for death. It was the beginning of her healing. Yet, soon she must pass through Death's door. To do so, the girl would have to experience the Dream of Dreams. It was the trigger - of that Lowenah was now sure. Yet, this decrepit man confronting Rachel could not give her those dreams, and those dreams she must have in order to pass through Death and enter back into Life.

Asotos went on to charm the girl with sweet prose and gentle speech, continually describing to her the joys of the Dream of Dreams. What he did not wish to understand or was unable to understand was that Darla wept not over dreams lost but over a deep feeling of betrayal. Few were those of her kindred that she fully trusted. Even Mihai and Euroaquilo were kept at arm's distance. But Mother - the only person the girl trusted to the full depth of her heart - was she also a beguiler of false hope?

It was the emptiness of the heart, the total loss of trust that caused convulsive actions to rage within the child, the Dream of Dreams merely the catalyst creating this eruption of emotional anguish. Forever was that hope gone, that she knew. Now what was she to do? Whether this man could give the dreams was doubtful but, for her, an impossibility. He was her enemy and would remain so forever. Never would she go to him for any favor or cure. If it meant eternal damnation, she would refuse. She paused in thought, staring up at the moon. Damnation...yes, damnation. There was another road to be considered.

Asotos was becoming impatient, the persistent night chill quite uncomfortable. "Come, my child, we must leave soon. The night is well along and the day begs we be departed from here." He extended a hand in offer. "Here, let me help you and we shall be gone."

Darla looked up at Asotos, threateningly. Taken aback, he hesitated before asking again. "Shall we go? The hour is late and you are in need of my love. Come, let us go."

Darla slowly began to rise, a queer disquiet growing on her face. The woman silently stood, staring back and forth at Asotos and Lowenah, a wild look smoldering in her eyes. Something was peculiar about her, strangely disturbing, filling the hearts of those watching with unease. Lowenah noticed, too. Something was up, something she was not expecting. 'Stay alert you must!'

Asotos believed the events of the night had driven the girl mad - weak constitution, you know - but have her now he must. His heart ached to possess her forever. He needed to discover the secrets hidden deep within her mind. In a hurried voice, he called for Darla to join him. "Come now. The hour is late and we must be going."

At that instant, Asotos' ears picked up a growing, guttural staccato sound coming from Darla's throat. He stepped back, wondering.

Darla clenched her fists, looking up at the moon, howling out angrily to the sky, "Kra _•Ka•Tuu! Kra•Ka•Tuu! Kra•Ka•Tuu! Sab•Bee•Nee! Sab•Bee•Nee! Sab•Bee•Nee!_ (meaning: 'So it shall be! So it shall be! So it shall be! It has come! It has come! It has come!')

At that instant, a shadow flashed across the moon and the fires of the burning sentinels vanished, leaving the plain empty and cold. Lowenah puzzled, disturbed. This was unexpected, and what her daughter was doing unexpected. Something was up, and she must remain vigilant.

Darla turned toward Asotos, arm outstretched, finger pointing, shouting in her monster's' deep, guttural voice, "The love songs of the Wastepipe stink like running dung from rotting maggots! His manhood is a withered dream!"

Asotos stepped back aghast, angrily accosting Darla. "Who are you to speak the vile language of extinguished times? How dare you! How dare you threaten me, the rightful ruler of these worlds, with such contemptible speech! How dare you!"

"How dare I?" Darla screamed. "Does the demon call the demon-chaser foul? Call to your cowering chieftains. They know well the god you are witnessing!"

Not taking his eyes off this raving monster, Asotos shouted for Legion and Godenn. Slowly, cautiously, the two men approached. He turned to them, pointing at Darla. "Who is this... this creature? Tell me if you know or die where you stand!"

Legion shook his head in trepidation as he stared into Darla's glowing, fiery-red eyes while listening to her raspy breathing. "I know it not. Never have I seen or heard of such a beast! Never!"

Asotos grabbed Godenn by the nap of his shirt, yanking him forward. "Tell me, who is this creature?"

Godenn stared in fearful wonder, also shaking his head. "I... I have never seen such a beast before."

Darla roared. "Oh, really? You remember me, dung meat, surely do!" She hunched her back, spreading her feet, and lifting a fist, cried out in rage, "AR...GO...TOTH!"

Now Godenn recalled, letting out a blood-curdling cry of despair, clutching his head, screaming in panic, "Therioskotia! Therioskotia! Therioskotia!" Here was the demon from his worst nightmares, alive and staring at him.

Well he remembered now, standing near the Gates of Argototh with his bodyguards when a demon rose from the darkness of the field of slain, its face smeared with bloody filth, entrails hanging from its belly. In seconds it was upon them, tearing his guards asunder with its magic spear. And then it attacked him, driving the evil blade deep into his shoulder. Only by his greatness of skill (luck, really), he managed an escape, harboring a sick wound for many months to come.

Without hesitating, even for fear of Asotos' wrath, Godenn turned about and took off on a waddling run, all the while clutching his head, screaming out the monster's name, "Therioskotia! Therioskotia! Therioskotia!"

After watching his brave commander rush off in a panic, never stopping until he reached the safety of a nearby ship, Asotos looked back at Darla, concerned but curious. This Therioskotia he had heard about, along with countless other gods and demigods that had been invented by the weak minds of lost souls. It started with Stasis pirates and slowly filtered into the camps of the Pseudes...the common man...his lowly soldiers. It seemed to him that this world was now filled with nearly as many fearful gods and demons as infected the worlds below. What was he to do with such simple minds? But there was business to conclude.

As he looked about at his other officers, trepidation ever growing in their hearts, he asked Legion, "Why do they fear so?"

Legion put on a bold face, all the while dreading that the monster might attack. He leaned close to Asotos' ear, whispering, "It is the tale oft told of a demon monster that haunts the fields of battle, seeking the blood of the slain to quench its insatiable thirst. Seen first during the Ancepities War, accompanied at that time by a monster giant, it has been witnessed across the worlds of combat. The crazed Stasis claim that it killed and ate several of its leaders when they captured it once."

"No," Legion shook his head, "I doubt the stories to be more than tales, but Godenn's bodyguards were torn asunder, their innards ripped from their bodies and hearts removed. That I personally witnessed in the aftermath of that battle." He shrugged, "But wild wolves or feral hogs may have done that to them. It happens, you know."

Asotos scoffed, uneasy, "The coward must have been too deep into the wine." The two men laughed timorously. He added, "This might be Erithia's greatest secret, her protective guardian kept to secure the well-being of the others in case things went badly for her this day. It is fortuitous that I have discovered the truth. It will serve us well to know the deceitful weapons of our enemy."

But it was too late for Asotos to abandon the chase. His passionate desire for this whatever it might be was consuming him. He not only wanted to probe its mind to discover what was hidden within, he wanted to have intercourse with it, to dream his dreams of being with the girl he had so much desired. He must have this Darla creature for his own.

Reaching toward the beast-woman with a hand, Asotos called out encouragingly, "Come, my child. I have made a promise to you. Unlike the untrustworthy, I will keep it. Remember, the Dream of Dreams is yours for the taking. Let us be gone."

"Go away, filth!" Darla screamed. "I'll not be slave to man or demon!"

In a flash, she gripped her long knife, yanking it from its sheath, holding it high in front of her. As she gripped it with her other hand, the blade burst forth in a blinding, white light. " _Sab•Bee•Nee!_ " (So it shall be!) She cried, plunging the weapon down toward her heart. Just before the blade pierced the woman's flesh, she cried out in anguish, the knife tumbling from her hands as she stumbled backward, falling as though dead into the sand. Everyone stood there in shocked silence, staring upon the form sprawled upon the ground, watching as the knife blade's blazing light faded away.

Asotos stared dumbly at the woman and then up at Lowenah. Looking at him, she sighed, resigned, "The contest was to be waged with but two weapons. I fear that by default you have won this leg of the race. Take your treasures of victory with you and go, and I shall take the defeated with me." She called to Ardon and others with him to gather the woman up and take her back to camp.

So much Asotos wanted to demand the girl be given to him, but he could see that it was not to be, and that any argument otherwise might prove unpleasant. After the woman had been gathered up to be returned to camp, he addressed Erithia. "Remember well your oath of promise, no more of those monkey-children from the Lower Worlds, and...and you will stay out of all future events in this world."

He then snapped his fingers, smiling. "Oh yes, I do have one other little bit of business, or should I say information."

At that, he motioned to some people standing back in the shadows. In short order, a dark-haired woman officer being accompanied by two male officers of similar rank stepped up beside Asotos.

"You do remember Ilaniya, your sweet flower?" Asotos asked so innocently. He grinned, "Sure you do..."

Lowenah said nothing. Expressionless, she looked down at her much beloved child.

"Captain Ilaniya has decided to join the League of Brothers, tiring of your insolent ways and the evil done against other innocents by the Children's Empire," smugly adding, "Her loyalty is now to me."

Lowenah asked, staring into Ilaniya's distraught, guilt-ridden eyes, "Is it so that you are staying with this man?" She could feel the grief in Ilaniya's heart, understanding well the shame the woman must be feeling for believing her failure to endure Asotos' tortures warranted no forgiveness. Lowenah could provide a rescue, but her daughter's heart would never heal should that be done. No, the cure must come in its own hour at whatever the cost to her child.

Ilaniya slowly nodded. "It is so. The better for it."

"All right..." Lowenah quietly replied.

She then turned her attention to Asotos, eying him. "Until Salem's Day, I have sworn and so have you to promised oaths. Forces there are, far beyond my control, which will assure me that you will keep your word in these matters. How you fare, though, in truth or lies, is up to you."

Without waiting for a reply, Lowenah ordered her people to take their leave, and turned her horse about. She called back over her shoulder in passing, "Tomorrow... tomorrow... There will not always be a tomorrow to set matters aright. Today that ending hour is swiftly approaching."

In relatively short order, both sides were departed, leaving behind a smattering of discarded goods, abandoned wagons and broken equipment. The murdered dog remained untouched, even though its killing sword was a finely crafted derker blade. In the stark brilliance of morning's sunlight, the reality of future days was scathingly revealed upon the blistered, empty plain. A war of desolation was soon coming, its portent revealed here in this destitute world. The die had been cast, the players on the board put in motion. Open were the gates, the horses already running hard. It was now come to be a race to the finish.

Not a soul placed a foot on EremiaPikros until long after Salem's Day. There the naked truth of Future's hour still lay untouched. Trisha's prophetic words were found to have become devastatingly true. The world did burn, worlds burned, consumed in unbridled rage, unprecedented. Ruthlessness became king for an hour, and Hell was delivered to Heaven. In those hopeless times, Death hunted all men, good and evil. Few chose to remember those evil days, and yet none who survived them could forget. EremiaPikros stood as one of the countless monuments forcing their memory.

There, after the many long years of war, the bones of a murdered dog rested undisturbed, the killing weapon's hilt still pointing defiantly skyward. Into this world came a man, witness to the violence of that day, and the creator of many cruel machines used in that coming war. That same man, now sworn to peace eternal, surveyed the surroundings, remembering that day so long ago. Beside him stood his lover, recently returned from the ashes of hopeless despair. She, too, remembered that day, or what parts of it were hers to remember, pondering all that was and all that might have been. Quietly the two stood there, recalling the hour, the oaths, and the final fury that hour led to.

The man, now at peace with himself and the universe around him, took out pen and paper and gathered up his feelings about that hour when the universe was forever changed. 'Tis the poet's song:

" _They gathered on this torrid plain_

To decide the fate of kingdoms' kings.

To the sands of EremiaPikros, the nations did all come.

Hopes were high for seeing better times,

For this could prove the counselors' finest hour.

But on the darkness swirled cruel, chill winds,

Beckoning ill, and for Death to follow.

Thunders rolled, and mountains shook,

The heralds cried, "Be gone! Be gone!"

And the children fled from before the gods

Who clashed their might with word and deed.

Until I, alone, am left remain

Upon this field, upon this plain.

I guard the trust of this hostile stead,

Protecting these fields of barren sand.

Yes, I alone guard this wasted land.

The stone of Rhiannon into the sea was cast,

Sending a bloody torrent raging past.

Kingdoms fell and worlds crashed,

They asked for the victor's crown at last.

And the maidens wept, and the mother mourned,

Waiting for their souls to be reborn.

To wait for that day, I am, I am.

But until...

Crumbling bones and rusting steel

Lay here in patient ease,

Awaiting the day of their release.

Yes for the day

When all the maidens fair will end their grief.

Then they will come...

... _to bury me in lasting peace."_

(Author's note: _Written in the high tongue of the day, translation into today's common speech does this poetic song gross injustice. I have attempted to remain true to the spirit of its meaning, thus leaving rhyme and melody to the vivid imagination. Such a sad truth, but it is so._ )

* * *

By the time the EremiaPikros flotilla rendezvoused with the main fleet and exchange goods were transferred over to Asotos' flagship, the super carrier AugustOne, the mood of the men and officers was festive. Asotos had talked up the day as being filled with one outstanding success after another. Generous he was also, distributing a great deal of spoil out to his officers, and opening the ships' larders to the general crews. Tonight was to be one of celebration.

Wine flowed aplenty across the fleet, sailors and soldiers making a merry time of it. The celebration aboard AugustOne was even more high-spirited. Asotos permitted some of the female junior officers to join their male colleagues in the main lounge, the women providing part of the erotic entertainment for those who found pleasure in such delights.

Much of the music played by AugustOne's orchestra was sensuous and provocative, of course being mixed with a generous smattering of patriotic and inspirational selections. This regaling atmosphere made for the occasional discreet interlude, Asotos feeling that certain displays of male affection needed to be reserved for more private encounters. On the other hand, the women were taken when, where, and how the men chose to, they being considered little more than part of the evening's entertainment.

While boisterous revelry was carried on with near abandon all around the lounge's main ballroom, things were much more orderly and subdued at the admiral's table. From that vantage point, the entire ballroom could be observed. Also, because of it being a few steps above the main floor, all those on the lower level could easily see the goings on up there as well. Although a festive spirit abounded with song and drink, there remained an air of social aloofness from the other celebrants.

The captains from other fleet ships and invited ranking officers would, after building up the courage, one by one make occasion to step up to the admiral's table, offering congratulations to their supreme commander for his outstanding victory over such an evil foe. Asotos, always the most generous and beguiling host when in the public's eye, would smile humbly and bow his head in shyness, thanking them for their unwarranted praise, and then would return a compliment of some sort to them.

It was after the orchestra was finished playing 'Humble Shall All Mighty Men Walk', a song taken by Asotos as his personal anthem, that the standing audience's attention was turned to their glorious leader as he arose to address them. Lifting his glass high, he saluted the maker of its contents. "Here's to Medeba! Her sorcery with the grape and flower has been forever unmatched. Today we have procured some of the last of her witching brew. Drink up and enjoy! Drink to her long-secreted arts that no other person has been able to master."

Everyone raised their glasses high and sang out their praises to the fine wine and Asotos' outstanding diplomacy in obtaining this unsurpassed vintage. Truth be said, there were only a few dozen bottles of this very rare drink delivered into Asotos' hands, and these were already thousands of years aged, Medeba having been deceased these many millennia now. From wine cellars hidden deep in a mountain east of Palace City were the few bottles taken for the prisoner exchange, and more precious was the elixir in weight than the finest of emeralds and sapphires. So it was that other than Medeba's wine being enjoyed at the admiral's table, the remainder of the company received a very much-diluted sampling of the prized liquid mixed with ordinary wine.

Asotos went on to praise the heroic deeds of his officers in the face of such overwhelming odds, giving honorable mention by name to several of them including Godenn. This was important to do considering that the League of Brothers remained welded together on the premise that leadership was a cohesive body of one, for one, and with one. Of course, Asotos listed off the names of the brave soldiers murdered, seeking a moment of silence, after which he promised revenge for those atrocities.

He then asked his loyal vice chancellor for the League of Brothers, Legion, to stand up beside him. For several minutes, he offered his accolades regarding Legion's remarkable negotiating prowess during the prisoner exchange. The enthusiastic response of the audience was due in part to Asotos' charismatic nature and captivating oratory. This was their leader at his greatest, when the wine relaxed his tongue so that his words flowed as smoothly as the intoxicating drink washed across the palate.

At the end of his speech, Asotos drew the company's attention to a person recently arrived at the admiral's table. "My loyal brothers," Asotos lifted his hands before extending them outward to his audience, "long we have warred against an evil foe that has attempted our destruction. Through deception, lies, and other hideous forms of subversion, the witch of darkness, Erithia, has maintained control over her kingdom, all the while twisting truth to keep followers of the Children's Empire loyal and obedient to her sinister machinations." He grinned, motioning for that newly arrived person to join him. "I would like to introduce you to one of our new officers, Captain IlaniyaDeCapreiat."

There was subdued applause, but for the most part the majority of the crowd politely stood there, many the faces filled with curiosity, some with misgivings. Asotos smiled. This was what he had hoped for, expected. Ilaniya was not a stranger to the League of Brothers. She was an Ancient and an outspoken antagonist of the League. Most often serving as Erithia's liege or aide to one of her councils, the woman was also a competent soldier and qualified officer. Her face was widely recognized among those in the crowd, thus the reason for their reaction to her introduction.

"Men, brothers," Asotos lifted his hands high, "well it is that this person has come to our aid in this hour. Long have I spoken of the evil and injustice done to us by the mother of witches. Well, here among us stands one of the most loyal and outspoken advocates of that she-beast! When the curtain of falsehood and lies was finally removed from before her, she just begged to be allowed to remain among us, wishing to lend her support to bringing defeat to the Children's Empire, and forcing the evil one from her palace." He shouted cheerfully, "Please give Captain Ilaniya a warm welcome!"

This time the crowd was enthusiastic, the room filling with applause and the occasional salutation. It mattered little why or how the woman came to change loyalties or what kind of persuasion was used to accomplish it. Most of the men in this room were high-ranking officers, familiar with and practiced in the various arts and methods used to obtain desired objectives. They learned long ago not to ask questions regarding these kinds of matters.

Smiling while putting his arm around Ilaniya's shoulders, the chancellor over the League of Brothers announced, "The captain here is my personal attaché. My expectation is for her to be respected and treated as a woman of station should be. I would personally be offended should report come to me concerning otherwise."

He then commanded Ilaniya to step forward and bow before the assembled throng. This sent the important message that Ilaniya was still subservient to the male officers and thus subject to their demands, within reason. Ilaniya, being a personal possession of Asotos, it would be prudent for the others to tread lightly when it came to the woman's physical treatment.

As sick at heart as Ilaniya was, she breathed a sigh of relief, believing the random acts of rape and violence - 'partying' as it was often called by the men - such as she was witnessing this evening would not be as common for her as it was for most of the other women. Oh yes, female officers were untouchable for the lower ranks, but among their fellow male officers they were little more than objects for entertainment. No matter the humiliation heaped upon them or discomfort endured, they were to act as if they desired it, enjoyed it, and even requested it. To do otherwise might well get them a ride under the horses or a night with the dogs.

As soon as Ilaniya stood erect, Asotos grabbed her arm and directed the woman toward a chair at the table next to his, not wishing to risk the woman making a statement or remark that might dampen this grand moment. Motioning the stewards who were waiting with more food and drink to attend the crowd, the League's chief potentate invited everyone to continue along with the celebration. As the music resumed and the boisterous chatter began again to fill the room, Asotos retired to his chair, sitting down so as to face the crowds below.

A waiter hurried over with a plate of hot victuals and a crystal glass filled with the finest Medeba wine, placing it down in front of Ilaniya. She quietly sat there, staring at the food, her stomach far too queasy to consume it.

While lifting his glass to toast the others, Asotos leaned over and whispered in Ilaniya's ear, "Eat it all up, like you're enjoying it or I'll give you over to the scum-weeds down below us to celebrate with. They know how to treat a woman. Most survive, takes a little getting used to, though, toughens them up, too. Tomorrow they will be required to show up for duty. No slackers in my military! Now eat!"

Ilaniya began to do as she was ordered, smiling appreciatively even as her face paled. Several times she needed to retire to expunge what her stomach refused to accept, but she always returned to the table wearing a huge smile, eagerly digging in to have more. When she eventually passed out from the sick agony, Asotos laughed, telling the others that women just couldn't hold their wine. He then told some attendants to carry her back to her cabin and lock the door behind them.

Turning his attention to other matters, Asotos struck up a quiet conversation with Legion. Although his goblet had been refilled several times with the finest of aged Medeba wine, and a very comely fleet officer had been flirting with him through the evening, Legion was still in a rather glum mood.

Concerned, Asotos leaned close, resting his hand on Legion's, speaking ever so softly, "My dear brother, I see there is a shadow hidden behind your merriment. Tell me, please, is it something I have done to ruin this hour? I do hope that you have not taken offense over previous events. I assure you, I only acted out of need at the prisoner exchange, the moment becoming tenuous, what with Erithia's witchery and all."

Legion responded that it had little to do with the man's actions, but did agree that the abuses he suffered at the hands of those evil miscreants dampened his spirits. "Why we had to put up with that contemptuous rabble at all is beyond me! Why did we not have done with it when the opportunity presented itself to us? Mihai would have been captured, Erithia put in her place, and the riches ours for the taking."

Fine words, but they were not the real reason for Legion's sullen mood. The man's talisman bag taken by Sirion was filled with his treasures, trophies taken from foes and victims stretching back for millennia. Like many sadists, he kept a collection of totems, reminders from his past deeds, reliving the lurid encounters through those assorted body parts squirreled away in that bag. Now he was without them, a terrible emotional loss he dare not openly speak about, because the collecting of body parts for personal gratification was not officially sanctioned.

He was also troubled over this Darla creature they encountered. Something about her was vaguely familiar. Oh well... Pushing that to the back of his mind, Legion decided to take advantage of his brother's sympathetic mood if opportunity arose.

Asotos squeezed Legion's hand affectionately, asking, "I so much would like to see you in a better mood than what you are at the moment. Is there something I can do for you or get that might lift your spirits?"

Never let a golden opportunity slip through your fingers. Legion cast his eyes down at his half-filled wineglass, forlorn. "One of my pressing concerns is the enemy's future plans regarding the MueoPoros star system and Eden's Gate. I believe that Captain Ilaniya's proximity to the Children's High Council and to Erithia, herself, would well make her privy to some of that information. I do not think the outcome of the prisoner exchange evolved from a series of haphazard events, but was carefully planned and executed... and also the Zephath incident might have been no coincidence either. Ilaniya could well be a plant, part of some covert operation putting the League of Brothers and possibly even you at risk." He tapped a finger on the table. "I feel the need to further investigate this hypothesis by prodding her for..."

Asotos raised an eyebrow, interrupting suspiciously, "You've already prodded her, Godenn has prodded her, half of your lieutenants have prodded her, in fact most of your men and even your guard animals have prodded her to the point she ruptured her vocal chords, screaming. Now, if there is anymore prodding to be done, it will be by me. She is my treasure. I'm actually quite fond of the woman. We were once very close, you know. Of course, that was a long time ago, but I may hope to rekindle some of the old flame if the desire should strike me." He shook his head. "Ilaniya is my little trophy for my possession."

In dejected defense, Legion countered, "It was not the way you have taken it. I was only explaining why I feel troubled this night. Do as you wish with that creature. It means nothing to me."

Truth was, it meant a lot to Legion. He, too, was fond of Ilaniya in some sordid sort of way, wanting dearly to possess her. She was a very handsome woman, almost manly in the way she carried herself - strong, determined, garnering respect by her very demeanor. To have someone of such presence as your aide-de-camp, faithful servant, distraction for others when entering a room with her on your arm, could only increase one's prestige among the other officers. Yes, he wanted her, but if he could not have her, he desired to damage the woman in some way so that she would become undesirable for Asotos' own trophy collection.

Asotos suspected the real motive behind Legion's request to take Ilaniya for further examination. He would have none of that. Still, he needed to keep Legion pacified. The man's loyalty was never certain. In this game of thrones, anyone's' fealty was always an uncertainty. Legion remained his most trusted officer, but for many prurient reasons other than out of devotion or respect. Legion was the best he had, his closest companion and confidant. He needed to keep the man satisfied, keep him feeling he fared better remaining as the vice chancellor.

Tenderly squeezing Legion's hand, Asotos smiled, explaining, "My brother, please, there are other reasons I must keep possession of that creature, reasons that may not appear obvious at this moment. For my part, I do desire so for your happiness to be complete. Look!" he reached out open-handed, motioning toward the far end of the table, "my personal vizier, Colonel Shuebiddee, as you well know is a very pleasant companion, musically inclined in many and varying ways. Why not take for your leisure tonight this gentleman as your steward. And, if it pleases you, have him remain close until you depart my company, that is, if you wish."

The faintest of smiles cracked Legion's lips. Colonel Shuebiddee was a handsome, well-kept man, from his perfumed, curly locks to his smooth face accented with a delicate splash of makeup and the slightest of paint on his rosy lips. With his impeccable grooming and fashionably natty dress, the man was the picture of desired perfection - something one could dream about, and little more.

Colonel Shuebiddee was a favorite of Chrusion's, a closely guarded treasure. Long had it been since Legion chanced upon the opportunity to have that man's attention lavished upon him, or he to do otherwise. Rare, rare indeed - a valuable treasure! Still, to gather but a handful of grain while the field stood ripe for the picking was not to Legion's liking. He must chance the victory of the moment to secure further riches - at least his cunning heart craved it to be that way. Always play it to the full for fear of losing a prize, albeit even a small one.

Legion must be coy, ever pressing so innocently for added trophies to satisfy his lusting heart. The very protocols of the brotherhood required that the needs of the people be his primary consideration. With humble lips and sober face, while greedy desire danced a merry tune in his eyes, Legion crooned, "A large number of the men defending the line this day were from my personal guard, and most who fell were also of that number. Should I return home with only empty praise while news of rich spoil fills the ears of their fellow comrades on MueoPoros, there may well be a loud disturbance of disquiet erupting from mouths, believing the sacrifices of their brothers were not appreciated."

He smiled, forlorn. "But should some of the treasure...a little wine, some choice pipe weed, an appropriate bauble or two, along with a cadre of KaminosKtisis be delivered into their hands, well, it would salve troubled minds."

Asotos' eyebrows went up as he squinted. This was not unexpected, a reason he did not offer any spoils to Legion earlier. Always, there was this game of 'up the ante'. How annoying. He smiled. It wasn't, really. True, it might prove costly at times, but it was such fun to play. Besides, should one win too grand a reward, there was always the need to return a favor just to show good sportsmanship. Asotos wanted a favor and was willing to place a little more in the pot to receive it.

Drawing out his reply to Legion's request, Asotos waited on the moment, drumming his fingers on the table as if in thought while doing so. Finally he answered, "I see your need in this matter, to settle the hearts of your servants over their sacrifice and loss. A case of Medeba wine and some barrels of pipe weed are yours for the taking. Also some of the other treasures are yours. These we can finalize when inventory is completed in the morning. As for your cadre of KaminosKtisis, you do know their value. I believe that a cadre of two should serve your needs quite well, or should I offer three?"

Legion's eyes beamed with excitement and greed. He could not believe his good fortune, nor did he consider the reason for his brother's generosity. "Thank you! Thank you!" He shook Asotos' forearm in gratitude. "You are such a generous man!"

Asotos grinned, exclaiming, "It is done!" He quickly turned to his other officers, lifting his hands high, shouting, "Enjoy the night to its full! Eat! Drink! Have a good time!"

Pouring Legion another glass of Medeba wine, Asotos fell into quiet conversation regarding other matters. "You do know, my brother, this day has been most revealing in other, less discernable ways. I have made some very important discoveries."

Legion's ears perked up. "Yes, my brother, what new information have you found?"

Asotos answered in a hush, "There are things living among us - things, creatures of my invention, hidden deep within sealed vaults, far from prying eyes - lives within lives, minds within minds, souls within souls, yes, living, thinking, feeling creatures seeking communication with their maker."

Legion asked aghast, "Is it really so? Have you discovered the Zaelocks among the children of the Witch?"

Asotos shook his head. "No, I speak not of an abomination, a creature made into a demon. I speak of a demon living within a creature, separate from and whole in thought, mind, and soul, yet feeding upon the spirit of its host to survive. A demon cried out to me today as though it were imprisoned, trapped in a place of its disliking, kept there by force against its will."

"Did this Trisha creature reveal these secrets to you?" Legion asked, his voice filled with concern.

Asotos remained silent, slowly shaking his head.

"Then who?" No more were the words out of Legion's mouth when his face filled with astonishment. "Darla, the creature some think is the Therioskotia?"

Grinning, Asotos nodded, adding, "I have made some inquiries regarding this woman creature. She is our little sister, youngest of Erithia's brood. It was told me that she was damaged severely on the day we were driven from the palace and has never been completely cured in the head since that day. I also am told that she suckled at Michael's breasts in the months after her attack. Somehow, in some way, one or more of the demons I planted in that woman transferred to Darla as she drank her sister's milk."

"Impossible!" Legion exclaimed, shaking his head. "If such a thing is really so, then it is possible your spawn might well be able to replicate itself."

Asotos agreed, grinning, "That Darla creature might well carry within her the most powerful weapon known to this universe. If we can extract that demon alive and it is able to replicate, we will have no need to make a new creation for we will control the old."

Legion asked innocently, "So what must be done now?"

Asotos leaned closer, resting an arm across Legion's shoulder. "I have spies already informed as to my needs. They will keep track of this creature. When opportunity arrives, we will capture her, but I will need your help."

Smiling, Legion nodded, considering the great reward the person capturing Darla might well receive. "Yes, yes, my brother. How may I be of service to you in this matter?"

Asotos leaned back. "I believe it is time that justice be served. Long enough you have waited to avenge the loss and humiliation heaped upon you by the evils of Erithia and her worshipful cohorts. I offer you that opportunity."

Legion was puzzled. "I don't understand. What does this Darla have to do with avenging my brothers?"

Asotos waved him off. "Such a humble man... I know many things, having eyes and ears everywhere. You, yourself, stood upon the sordid plain that day long ago when Symeon was stolen from you by the antics of a certain woman. 'That tramp' was the name you addressed her by when speaking to Erithia, at least I believe it is the name you used for Darla that day. Well, now is your opportunity to avenge the loss you suffered."

He leaned close, whispering in Legion's ear, "I want you to get that tramp for me, alive and in good health. Do it and I will give you that cadre of beasts you so much desire."

Legion nodded, the smile slowly melting from his face as distant memories began to emerge out of the fog of long-forgotten adventures. There were other words spoken that day - threats, or possibly oaths - considering the mad woman declaring them. Like a decomposing beast rising from the filth of a murky swampland, the woman's prophecy grew in stature until it stood erect before him, rejuvenated with a renewed power of life, seething in its unchained vengeance.

The clarity of that long ago moment filled Legion's mind with dreaded recollection, he hearing his own voice cursing the tramp and decrying mercy's value. Then his mind reeled, recalling Erithia's answer.

She shook a finger in his face. 'That little tramp will one day haunt your dreams, stealing away your very sleep! She is my death star, angel of madness! Her sword will rip apart the heavens. My daughter will drive your armies from the skies, burn your cities to dust, and shall tear asunder your mightiest warriors! 'Demon of Darkness' your people will call her, quailing at the mention of her name."

Legion shuddered, the dread in his mind crying out, 'The Therioskotia does live!'

Then other words even more ominous drifted up from long-forgotten memories, too meaningless at the time to have been noteworthy, but stirred to life this very day by Sirion. 'It has waked! Pleasant dreams, my brother.'

A nervous shudder suddenly ran down Legion's back, recalling Erithia's pronouncement. 'Now listen and become afraid! The child you cut down today will become the dragon-slayer of your own flesh tomorrow. The one you call a 'monkey-child' will tear from your living chest your beating heart, and your head she will remove from off you, making it into a bowl for excrement and urine.'

Legion's face paled as he pondered how Asotos' request to have Darla delivered to him and Erithia's final pronouncement she declared against him were related. 'In the day your lover requests you deliver that tramp into his hand, you will know that the one you murder today has been lifted up to this world. Your sleep will flee from your eyes and you will dread the night. Her destruction will haunt your waking thoughts, but you will find no relief... only the Sword of the Whirlwind, who will extinguish your world.'

'Sword of the Whirlwind? No!' Legion nearly cried out loud. He now understood, understood all too well. Erithia was not delivering a sword, but swords! That was the meaning of the prophecy of Sharon and her rings his spies had spoken about. This day Erithia had revealed two swords, her new captain of the guard, Trisha, and this creature, Darla - her swords of destruction with the power of the immortal elements. Were there more? Yes, but how many, he could not guess.

He looked into Asotos' waiting face, confused. With astonishment, he nearly cried out again. Why, even the leader over the league had no idea of this unstoppable storm soon to be unleashed upon them. And here Legion knew, had been cursed by Erithia to know, but dared speak not a word of it for fear he might be called a 'traitor and purveyor of false words', 'an agent of the Mad Woman'. No, he must tell no one. A secret in his own heart it must remain.

All Legion could hope to do was stem the coming storm by bringing this Darla down to nothing. Capture? Maybe, but if death raised its opportune head, he would avail himself of that tool as well.

A weak smile crossed Legion's lips. "Sharon's light rises upon this world. We must all do our part to stem its might. I will do this for you. It must be done."

While Asotos' eyes followed him with curiosity, Legion stood and, after gaining the attention of Colonel Shuebiddee, taking him by the hand, slowly made his way toward his stateroom, hoping some sweet interlude might chase away the goblins in his mind.

* * *

There was little celebration in Mihai's camp that evening. Although the prisoners were now safely returned, the loss of dead companions weighed heavily on the people's minds. Also, news of Chisamore's disaster cast a sullen gloominess over everyone. It had been decided the main body was to remain on the planet for the time being.

Captain Asarel was preparing to soon depart with DusmeAstron and, along with two bilanders, rendezvous with the Fourth Fleet to help bolster weakened defenses caused by the loss of Chisamore. One of the bilanders, Docile, carried needed supplies to help with the rescue of Chisamore's crew and would remain with the crippled ship temporarily. The carrier sustained severe damage but remained intact, the crew having suffered several casualties with some loss of life as well.

By the time Lowenah's entourage returned, Trisha and her officers were long departed aboard the cattle transport, Dogie, the field marshal feeling time was of the essence. With four fighters packed in its cramped hold, along with some thirty of Trisha's officers and staff and two dozen sailors, Dogie was making smoke for EdenEsonbar. It would be well into the next day before Mihai would hear word that the field marshal had been faithful to her orders when departing the company. Tonight she slumbered in a sleep like that of the dead.

The night air was long since chilled with few souls adventurous enough to dally outside unless it was on special business. Tashi, on the other hand, was taken with this twilight desert world. Being accustomed to the cold, thus well prepared for it, she had rare opportunity to explore the nature of such a waterless planet and its numerous little creatures, especially the ones that scurried about only at night. With twinkling eyes and cooing entreaties, the woman had managed to get Ardon's promise for a walk about the dunes before retiring for the evening.

Ardon was in splendid mood as he scampered up the opened belly ramp of Shikkeron to gather a jacket and cap for his evening walk with Tashi. Other than the dressing down from Mother, which by now was such a forgotten long time ago, praise and adoration showered upon him for so bravely facing down Asotos lifted his spirits. Even PalaHar and Tizrela noted his bravado in their late dinner conversation. And Tashi... sweet Tashi? She was more affectionate this night than she had been the entire journey traveling here.

Hurrying up to the second deck, Ardon gingerly made his way down the corridor leading to his former accommodations, remembering the items he wanted were stashed behind one of its bunks. Stopping at the cabin's panel door, he was caught up short by sounds coming from inside the room. A quiet tumult of subdued weeping struck his ears. Who? Oh yes, it must be Mother. She had traded cabins with him earlier on. Why the tears? The day had been so successful.

Ardon silently stood outside the closed door, pondering the moment only as Ardon was able to do. Obviously Mother must be weeping with sadness over the terrible injustices done to the crew of Zephath, and terrible injustices they were, too! Mother was so tender-hearted and compassionate, such a good example for others to follow. The man was saddened to think that those atrocities were committed, but that was the way of mindless violence. That was why he promoted the councils so enthusiastically, a way to avoid such evil.

Stepping back, the man quietly shrugged, for each must face his or her own dragon. Mother had sought the solitude of a lonely cabin, and Ardon chose not to intrude in her misery rite. He would seek his needs elsewhere and leave the person beyond the door to celebrate her grief in secluded ritual, undoubtedly the way she wanted it to be.

With hushed footsteps, Ardon hurried away in search of his immediate needs. Soon he was holding hands with Tashi as the two strolled along the sand dunes just beyond the lights of the nearby camp.

* * *

"Thank you for visiting with me while I've been ill. I didn't expect to see you again, you know, with your selling your place and moving away and all."

Ishtar dug into the bowl of fresh fruit Hanna had delivered to her.

"It's so good to be feeling better though..." Finally, after finding an especially delightful morsel and popping it into her mouth, she looked up at Hanna, musing, "I don't really recall having been sick."

Hanna placed her hand over Ishtar's fingers as the girl reached to grasp another handful of fruit, cautioning, "Do be careful, my dear. It has been a long time since you have eaten and your system needs to once again become accustomed to food."

Ishtar ignored Hanna's counsel, digging in and filling her hand, stuffing her mouth with the juicy delights. Mumbling as she ate, Ishtar asked, "Hoo lon hav I ben sic anawa?"

Hanna smiled, resting her right hand on Ishtar's upper arm, gently massaging it. After some moments, and Ishtar's gobbling of a few more mouthfuls of food, Hanna explained, "My child, I don't think I would really call what you have had as being sick. It's true, you have been sleeping a long time, and you need to reacquaint yourself with your surroundings. Things have changed a little since you took your rest."

She patted Ishtar's arm, quickly adding, "Yet you will still need lots of rest because what went on with you does have the tendency to knock the stuffing out of a person. It may take a while to get your legs back under you." Standing to leave, she admonished, "Do be careful with your food. Your stomach may not like what you're doing. There's water on the table next to the bed and I would recommend you remain here a little while longer. Tomorrow you will have much greater strength." Hanna turned and headed for the door.

Just as she grasped the handle, Ishtar called out after her, "When will mother visit? I have so much to tell her."

Hanna pretended to not hear what the girl asked, answering, "No worry, I'll return soon." She slowly lifted the latch and slipped from the room.

"Old people!" Ishtar huffed, "I'll never understand them!" A sleepy, tired feeling grew in her arms that slowly crept through the rest of her body. The child put her now empty bowl on the nearby stand as her head fell back on the pillow, frowning, "I wish I never had to grow old..." She shrugged, "But what other choice is there?"

Ishtar snuggled back in her bed and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Darla sat on the edge of the cot, forlorn and depressed, her tears of self-pity, feeling the loss of a dream share she had never experienced and believing she never would. Lowenah lovingly leaned against her little child, gently rubbing the girl's back and shoulders. There were lessons this person yet needed to learn, must learn. She had survived her greatest contest up to this time, survived Asotos' deceptive advances. Survived? Yes, but had not come off victorious. Indeed, if not for other dabbling fingers, the girl would have perished in her own damning self-destruction, threatening the future of all life in the universe.

Lowenah sadly shook her head. Rachel's hatred of evil saved her from what would have been an abysmal fate should she have followed Asotos. Oh yes, her love for Mother was a deciding influence, and it might have carried the day, but it was not by love, alone, that the girl had refused the Snake's advances. And today was just the beginning of her Rachel's contests. Future days would deliver upon this child far greater dangers and Mother might not be there to pull her out of the fire. Love, alone, would not rescue her child from damnation. Other weapons were also needed. They, combined with her love, would become unstoppable forces assuring not only her survivability, but also complete and total victory over all her enemies.

"There, there, my sweet little Rachel, the distress is only momentary. It will soon pass." Lowenah squeezed her little girl in a tender hug. "Then things will be all right again."

Darla whimpered, distraught, her tears flowing, "How is it possible that things will be all right! Despair is now my only companion, Hope long departed upon the desert's breeze. An empty sack of dreams is all that I am, bereft of visions seen afar off that shall never be mine to possess!" She sobbed, "How does one suffer such pain and not wish for the swaddling bands of Death to gather up her tormented soul?"

Many were the words Lowenah could have used to correct her wayward child. Darla was fallen prey to her own selfish longing, forgetting the nature of the beast that threatened the very fabric of the universe. The girl was but one very tiny soul floundering in a frothing ocean of mayhem and dismay. Yes, Darla could have been chastised and rebuked, deservedly so, but Mother was not someone to do such a thing. 'Look into the face of a man distraught and see your own soul's reflection should the tables be turned.' - AsreHalom.

Fear...yes, fear was the demon troubling Darla, a most dangerous opponent. It was fear that could make a brave warrior throw down his sword and flee in mindless panic, fear of drowning that caused the rescuer to become the one needing rescue. Fear is a very powerful weapon, and could be wielded in so many different ways, thrust bold and forthright in its attack, or silently slithering into one's soul, choking the heart. So many times Darla had faced fear directly, defeated it soundly, but never before had she faced its strangling tentacles as it slowly squeezed hope from her heart.

Weapons Darla had to fend off this attack, but they were tools of war that she, herself, must master, for only by her personal might could these wondrous weapons be wielded to bring defeat to fear. Only by her own hand could she succeed.

Lowenah stroked Darla's long, brunette locks, asking innocently, "My sweet, darling Rachel, do you still love me?"

Darla looked into her mother's eyes, concerned and somewhat curious. "Of course I love you. Why?"

Lowenah smiled, her eyes revealing hidden feelings. She did not answer, but asked, "My sweet child of the late hour, Rachel, my suckling baby, do you trust me?"

Darla was surprised, hesitating before she spoke. "Of...of course, I trust you. I love you." Lowenah caught Darla's troubled glance along with the deceitful tone carried on the girl's reply. She took her daughter's hand, nodding, "Love me? Yes, I do believe you do, but your tongue speaks a falsehood regarding your trust."

Darla began to object. Lowenah stopped her. "You cannot fool the Maker of Worlds with smooth speech unless she wishes to be fooled. I do not wish to be fooled this day. Too painful a matter it is to recall times long passed when my heart desired such things only to bring a ruination upon all flesh."

Taking hold of Darla's hands while peering deeply into distraught eyes, Lowenah asked, "My child of the evening, last of the CherBulocks, I know you love me and a loyal love it is, it is. Yet in your hour of contest with the Snake, when our eyes locked for but a moment, I witnessed the look of betrayal in your stare - not your betrayal of me as your eyes bore into my soul, but of my betrayal of you, for secrets withheld that now your worst enemy revealed."

Darla shook her head, saying it was not so.

Lowenah sputtered, "Don't lie to me or to yourself! I ask you now, and be truthful to the point of death, do you have faith in me?"

"Have faith in you?" Darla had not expected such a question and did not know what to say. She was preparing to ask what a 'CherBulock' was, having never heard the word before. Now that was all forgotten. She cried, "Mother, I love you!"

Lowenah frowned, persisting, "Rachel, do you have faith in me?

Feeling like an animal caught in a trap, Darla shook her head, squirming in desperation. "I do not know a thing at all! Mother, I love you and will do anything for you. I hate the Evil Worm with all my heart and soul. Is that not faith enough?"

Still holding her daughter's hand, Lowenah turned her face away, shaking her head sadly. "It is not enough, my Rachel, to love me. Many are the ones who have loved me, or at least the deities contrived that claim to represent me. Yet those very people have done and do the most abhorrent things in my name, deceiving themselves and others that they are doing my will. Love alone does not curb the evil, but only stokes the fires of holiness to cover the wickedness being done in my name."

She looked back into Darla's face. "My daughter, Ilaniya, loves me to the point of death, but does not understand me, know me. She surrenders her soul up to the service of that Evil Snake because she has been shamed by her own heart into believing that the confessions of her loyalties under duress and severe torture have condemned her to everlasting damnation. Love has not saved her from the upcoming, unspeakable sufferings she will receive at the hands of that man. Yes, because of that same tricksy love for me, rescue she rejected."

"Now for hate..." Lowenah looked down at her hands, "It has been said to 'hate the bad and love the good', and that is a correct statement, but also tricksy for those easily deceived. For if the bad is whitewashed to appear less evil, possibly good or just not bad, will doing what is good be such an easy thing? If two roads, one smooth and flat, the other narrow, winding and steep, are believed to deliver one to the same destination, which one will the carefree and thoughtless choose?

'Shrewd is the person seeing the calamity afar off and conceals himself from it.' Wise words, true, but how does one become shrewd if he or she lacks the wisdom to see the calamity or has no ability to ward it off? My Rachel, it is by faith and trust that one wards off the coming blow. Faith and trust in what? In someone able to protect them from that calamity..."

Lowenah sat back, again peering into Darla's eyes. "Now should a man come to a forked road, the one smooth and the other tempestuous, and should a trustworthy innkeeper warn him that highwaymen lurk down the smooth road, it might well be an easy thing to take the other more troublesome road. What, though, would be the case if the same innkeeper merely warned the man to stick to the tempestuous highway, giving no explanation? How easy would it be for the man, burdened down with many trade goods, to follow the innkeeper's advice if he had little or no trust and faith in the fellow?

"Only by faith and trust would such an endeavor be made. And should the decision be to follow the easy road, and the traveler was to fall in among highwaymen, would he have the right to feel betrayed because the innkeeper did not tell him why it was not wise to take that road?"

Not yet understanding the moral of the story, but answering the question as best she could, Darla replied, "The innkeeper was not under obligation to warn the traveler at all, he not having been placed under the servitude of that man. So any warning, great or small, should be considered a gift. The treasonous act, then, would be committed by the traveler, himself, for ignoring the trustworthy warning."

Lowenah smiled again. "So, then, the traveler need not have any love for the innkeeper to heed his warning, true? Indeed, it mattered little if that had been the case. What he needed were two other things that neither love nor hate could replace - faith and trust. Had the traveler only one thing, either trust or faith in that the highwaymen might lie in wait down the smooth road, he would have chosen the twisting road, considering it to be the safer of the two.

"And another question... Had the traveler known and loved the innkeeper, but did not trust him, thus had no faith in the man's warning, would love have saved the traveler from falling in amongst thieves?" Darla shook her head, saying nothing.

Leaning close and tenderly kissing her child, Lowenah crooned and then asked, "I know that you love me with all your heart, yet what would your outcome have been if your passionate hatred for the Evil Snake had not been so great? Would you have gone with him even after my warnings to be wary concerning his smooth words and treacherous ways? Was it only hatred that saved you that day?"

Darla did not want to answer, it hurting too much to think of herself as a foolish waif, having almost taken a road that might well have led to her damnation. She finally spoke up. "Mother, I do not know if I have faith or not. Making you happy has been my greatest concern," she lowered her gaze toward the floor, "that is, until I felt as if betrayed by you. Then the hurt from love betrayed burned so badly within me, I wished only to leave this place and never live again." Looking back into her mother's face, wide-eyed, Darla asked, "What does faith feel like? If I have it, I must feel it in some way, shouldn't I?"

Lowenah laughed, "Do not speak as though the suckling to me. You are a grown girl and know well such definitions. I will say this once, succinctly as may be, and you can do with it as you will. Faith, my dear, is the engine that continues to drive our lives after all hope is gone. Your friend, Paul, defined it long ago for the people of his Realm. It has been a motivating force in that world down to this day.

"Faith cannot stand the bulwark alone. Trust is its ally. The two are inseparable, yet both different, one complementing the other. You see, one must trust first. Without trust, you will not step on Destiny's road to begin your journey. Oh, and there are so many things you must trust about the person or persons encouraging you to take that road.

"Once you have taken to the road with trust, you must ally yourself with faith if you wish to make a success of your journey. Faith leads you to action, motivating you to stick to your path because faith will give you insight, rejuvenate hope, to see afar off the promised reward of journey's end. So it is that trust and faith will deliver you to hope. Thus, with faith and hope, you will successfully endure whatever the fated road may deliver upon you until the reality of your endeavors has been experienced."

Darla spoke up in her own defense. "Then I do have faith! I see...have seen afar off the hope we all attain for. That is why I have lifted up my sword to do battle with the Wicked One, to bring to a finish the evil in this world."

Lowenah agreed. "And a good soldier you have proved to be, brave and fearless, a sterling example for others to follow." She then shook her head. "But it has not been out of the faith that I speak of you having done such things. No, my dear Rachel. Child, your faith is and always has been based on trust in your own hand. You have a great deal of faith in you, but little to none in others, including me."

Darla was shocked. "That is not so! I trust you! I do! I do!"

Lowenah hushed her. "Your faith is in your might! Strong-willed you are, a powerful woman, keen of mind and fleet of foot. Your sword is deadly and aim is sure, but it has been by faith in your own willpower that you have forged ahead."

"But I have relied upon you!" Darla whined. "Many times I have cried out to you for assistance!"

Wagging a finger, Lowenah countered, "And many times I have responded to my little child's pleadings. Yet it was out of desperation, when all hope in your own might was departed that you called out to me. Never have you beseeched me before the battle, requesting my presence to be with you in the contest. Always, when your strength has waned and your countenance fallen have you reached out to me. Yes, my dear one, only when all other hope was lost did you reach out for my hand." She shook her head sadly. "So, so much like the others are you. Yes, you are not the only one forgetting me until no other hope exists."

Darla began to cry, whimpering, "How do you tolerate such an evil child, a misfit urchin of evil times, a Che... Cher... CherBulock?"

Lowenah laughed, "I have already said too much for inquisitive ears. Only of my lessons shall I speak. Evil you are not. Urchin? Well, there are times. Look, I created my children to be free, independent agents. It takes conscious effort to call out to me, the very nature of going it on your own being so strong within you. But times have changed since the carefree days. Trust and faith not in ourselves but in the powers that can remove evil from the universe are what must be cultivated now.

"Listen and gain understanding. It was not the trust and faith the traveler had in himself that saved him from the highwaymen. The traveler lacked any knowledge of those dangers. Trust and faith in the innkeeper was the traveler's saving grace. By trusting a warning given by someone with knowledge, a warning possibly given without any explanation or definable reason, the traveler saved not only his valuables but possibly his very soul. So it is with you. It is by the trust and faith you place in someone other than yourself - me - that you will successfully attain journey's end."

Lowenah lovingly poked Darla on the arm, grinning, "I could go on and on. You know I love my voice when this kind of mood is on me. Let me finish with this. It is your boundless love for me bonding with your trust and faith in me that will see you safely through your coming trials...and come they will. Love will make it an easy matter to faithfully carry on when the path becomes uncertain, you knowing I will never betray you. True, tribulation and suffering may well haunt your journeys, but the final promise will always be waiting your arrival. That three cord bond, faith - trust and faith combined - hope and love will never betray you."

She wagged a finger again. "Remember, though, when all is finished and the reality is yours, faith and hope will quietly pass away, but love...love never fails."

Standing, Lowenah turned and asked Darla to do the same. Studying her child's comely form, she lovingly stroked the girl's skin. "You are most beautiful, a vision of loveliness. I do love you, you know. You are one of my favorites, perfect in every way."

Looking up into Darla's eyes, she confessed, "You are not the only one needing faith. I, too, need it - had it in you. I did not doubt your loyalty and love for me the other day on that tortured plain. Oh yes, my heart ached at seeing your suffering, but I did not doubt you for one minute. I'm so proud of you!"

To say Darla was shocked would be an understatement. The girl did not know how to respond. Wrapping her arms about her mother, the girl wept for joy.

After waiting a respectable time, Lowenah finally pulled away, taking hold of Darla's shoulders. "How can someone hope if they do not know what awaits them at journey's end? Your sisters have hoped to once again receive the Dream of Dreams, a gift stolen from them by your evil brother. By their faith, they patiently wait for the day when another will deliver to them that dream.

"But for you, how could you hope for something you had no knowledge regarding? Or how could I defend your future promised glory if you to did not suffer the test of a deceiver's heart? So, now that you have seen afar off the glory of the Dream of Dreams, it is now time for you to witness it to the full."

Darla was dumbstruck. "What? How?"

Lowenah frowned, then smiled impishly, "My hand is short, is it?" That smile slowly faded as she stared into her child's eyes. "I give to you both the blessing and the curse - ecstasy and agony. I deliver both into your hands. The Dream of Dreams is to be yours for the coming moment." She turned away, hiding tears that revealed future knowledge.

Excited, but also concerned, Darla asked, "Mother, oh Mother, please tell me. Do not hold back a single thing from your child."

Lowenah looked back at Darla, sniffling, "No child, it is enough. Like your sisters so dear to your heart you will become, knowing the Dream of Dreams, and...and with it all the other knowledge they carry buried deep within their bosoms." She refused to speak further about the matter. Taking Darla's hand, Lowenah forced a smile. "Hurry now, a bath, a bath. You must carry the smell of fresh, flowering beauty this hour. Quickly be off, and when you return I will have prepared you raiment and train."

Darla dutifully obeyed, rushing to the officer's showers and cleansing her body with the fragrant soaps Mother gave her. After she returned, Lowenah dressed her child in the sheerest, spider-silken gown that left little to the imagination. "Better to leave the others longing for such untouchable treasures," she laughed when Darla commented how seductive the outfit was.

Lowenah painted Darla's eyes and lips, splashing a dash of colorful blush on her face to add a little accent before placing on her head a chrysolite and sapphire crown and attaching to the gown a long, flowing, silken train, a pair of high, laced satin sandals finishing it all. Oh my, did Darla look a sight to behold, it being said by those who saw her that she was a thousand times more alluring than when dressed for the prisoner exchange.

Satisfied with her creation, Lowenah led Darla from the cabin by the hand and down the long companionway toward the aft exit door of DusmeAstron. It opened on the starboard side of the ship, just abaft boiler room four, and fore of the two main fueling stations and the elevator leading down to steerage. This entrance was often used by officers who boarded, wishing to avoid formalities when entering via the main ramp. This was the same entrance Darla earlier used when she was searching out Euroaquilo before departure for the prisoner exchange.

Today the passageway was noticeably quiet, no engine and boiler crews, no guards or laborers. Mother must be up to something, but what might it be and why the buttoned-down ship which Darla felt was also Mother's doing? She was not kept pondering her questions for long.

The hatch quickly slid open, catching Darla in a blinding blaze from several banks of construction lights set up outside pointed directly at the opened doorway. Laughing, Lowenah waved her hand and the lights slowly began to dim. As Darla regained her sight, the girl noticed that they were not alone. The entire camp was gathered outside.

Darla looked down in shocked surprise to see all the crew and officers dressed up in their smartest of uniforms. With them were dignitaries, members of the court and councils, Mother's honor guard, and so many of the important people who had journeyed here to this little desert planet for the prisoner exchange, minus those accompanying Field Marshal Trisha en route to EdenEsonbar. But most unexpected to behold was the distinguished man standing at the bottom of the descending stairs.

"My Euroaquilo!" Darla gasped, as her hand went to her mouth. "My Euroaquilo..." she repeated, more subdued this time.

Stunning the man did look, too. Tall, proud, and majestic he was, dressed in purple robes of state, gilded in gold and draped in silks dyed red, blue and green. A cloak of the finest woven mantan satin laced with silver and chrysolite threads covered his shoulders, while a turban shimmering the colors of the rainbow he donned for a headpiece.

Before Darla could respond to the wondrous visions she was witnessing, a cheerful applause arose from the hundreds of smiling well-wishers gathered below. At that instant, three ancient T-4's roared by overhead, wagging their wings as they passed by. Darla was totally overwhelmed, staring dumbly at the goings on.

As the roar of the fighters slowly faded away and the joyous applause died down, Lowenah took Darla by the shoulders, turning the girl toward her until she peered into Darla's surprised eyes. "Always have I desired this day. Too long we have had to wait...you have had to wait, but this once, please, forgive me for taking so long. There were many reasons."

Lowenah looked down at Euroaquilo and back into her child's face. "Today you come of age. This day you will give your virginity up to the man who can give you the Dream of Dreams, and like your sisters you will become, a woman knowing good and ill."

Taking her daughter's hand, the two slowly walked down the stairs to the sand below, Euroaquilo gracefully bowing, sweeping his arm out toward them.

"My ladies..." he called out to them as he stood up.

Placing Darla's hand in Euroaquilo's and then cupping hers over theirs, Lowenah declared, looking into Darla's face, "I have given to you this man who will give to you the celebration of the heart, the Dream of Dreams. A father he will become to you, to refresh your heart, mind and soul. Today you will become a woman, leaving forever the innocence of your childhood behind."

She then spoke to them, glancing toward a pearl-white starship shimmering in all its translucent brilliance. "By blood does a covenant become sealed. Go to your chambers prepared for you and seal with each other the everlasting covenant that only a man and his maiden can consummate. It is the custom of our people. 'So shall the blood of the man be given to the maiden to make her complete, and a woman she will become.'"

Lowenah now lifted up her voice to those gathered for the celebration. "See, our daughter has come of age! Her day of celebration has arrived. Today is a new dawning for our child, a new beginning for us, our kind. It is the assured expectation of things, that our own new coming of age will soon arrive."

The people broke out in renewed applause and exuberant celebration with music and song. Lowenah led Euroaquilo and Darla over to the fiery sentinel standing at the base of the starship's on-ramp. The sentinel bowed low, removing an ornate cap as he did. After standing erect, he reached out and took Lowenah's hand. "My Queen..."

Lowenah smiled, offering a respectful nod. "Do give them a splendid time, my good fellow, as I know you will."

The sentinel assured her that he would, quickly turning his attention to the couple and ushering them up the ramp and into the ship. After waving to the cheering crowd, the party stepped inside, the ramp closed, and the star-ship silently rose into the evening sky. In seconds, it was little more than a speck on the distant horizon.

Rare was the dry eye among those gathered there. Few had ever seen one of Mother's starships up this close, let alone a fiery sentinel, and to do this for a coming of age celebration? Well, that was momentous!

Lowenah listened to the silence as she and the others quietly stood, staring off in the direction of the starship. This hour must be remembered, an event that would stir the heart in the cold, upcoming times ahead. This was no way to end the day, so quiet and subdued!

Motioning for the musicians to strike up merry tunes, Lowenah called out to the people to remain for a departing feast. "Tomorrow we shall leave this world behind. Let it be remembered with intoxicating fondness."

Late into the night, the wine flowed and the music played, the weather remaining exceptionally warm. Song, dance, feasting, and, yes, a few romantic interludes out among the dunes filled the memories of those fortunate few who celebrated Darla's coming of age. Times were changing, had changed, but tonight would long be remembered by the men and women of that world as the day of renewed hope.

* * *

Dogie's engines were running hot, sending an occasional tremor through the hull of the ship as its massive drive, twin turbines pulsed at redline. After receiving the latest report from the engine room, Captain UuzuloftChumay addressed his fears to Field Marshal Trisha, who was standing the bridge beside him.

Leaning back and clasping her hands behind her, as she casually looked down at the deck, Trisha calmly replied, "Captain Uuzuloft, I understand your concerns. That is why I sent my engineering officer along with a technician to assist your crew chief in this hour of haste. Major Tiffany is a capable engineer, familiar with the stulic drive system of this vessel. I have full confidence in her abilities to judge the limits of this machine. I have placed the safety of ship and crew in her hands."

Captain Uuzuloft slowly shook his head as he repeated his concerns. "Lady Trisha, this is a converted collier refitted to a deep space freighter from before the Three Hundred Years War. It had already served as a troop transport during the wars before that. This ship has been under the Navy's commission for close to three millennia, receiving multiple upgrades and refits over the course of time, the stulic drive being its latest. May I inform you, it is a drive system designed for modern ships with stronger hulls and frames."

He tapped the deck with his boot. "Indeed, this old tub was consigned to the scrap yard before the Great War, so unfit for service to even be re-commissioned for that conflict! Your Admiral Sujin, when Commissioner of Salvage, resurrected the old girl, refitted her to haul animals and then renamed her 'Dogie'. He pulled the stulic drive system from the brigantine Widget, it being refitted to that of an imperial class warship, receiving larger drives. Those oversized stulic engines were not designed for a small transport like Dogie, her hull being quite inadequate. I fear overstressing the ship if we continue to run them full out."

Trisha nodded her sympathies. "Captain, I do appreciate your concerns. I will send my design officer, Major Garlock, to confer with Major Tiffany. He is well versed in the studies of ship design and construction."

Captain Uuzuloft was still not assuaged, arguing for a more prudent speed. Trisha was becoming impatient with his gentle protest, and needed to remind herself that the military of the Children's Empire was much different from those of the Second Realm. Here, especially among officers, it was considered normal to debate the matter until the issue was forced. It was the customary way among Lowenah's loyal children, and Trisha dare not interfere with it if she wished for their lasting support.

Reaching out and taking the captain by the arm, Trisha suggested the two retire to the navigator's table near the rear of the bridge. After excusing those officers at the table, they sat.

"My friend," Trisha quietly began, "I have need for great haste and this 'cattle barge' as you call it will serve my needs quite well. Trust me, my lieutenants chose this machine for our journey because they believed it to be the most seaworthy of the ships available to me. I trust them. If they believe we are safe at these speeds, then I feel it is so."

Captain Uuzuloft began to counter-argue the case. Trisha lifted a finger to hush him and smiled, asking, "My dear captain, will you permit me a personal word, friend to friend?" Surprised, the captain nodded.

"Thank you." The field marshal looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers. "A little child I am when compared to the great leaders and wise men among your kind, as you, yourself are. I do not claim to know a thing, other than what your mother, my God, gave to me. As I sat in her presence not that long ago, she bestowed upon me the rank of field marshal, giving me a ring and many counselors, along with hidden wisdom that, she said, would come to me in my times of need. Although I would not trust myself alone with such weighty matters, I trust Lowenah and I trust to the words she told me.

"Captain, this ship, Dogie, was over a thousand years old at the time of my birthing. I am sure you are a great deal older, and your aged wisdom warns you to be cautious about the integrity of this ship. You are to be commended for that, the care you have for it and the safety of the crew in your charge."

She looked up into Captain Uuzuloft's face. "But there comes a time when needed risk must become the master over safety alone. The days of pondering the future and choosing the safe course are now past us. A new and frightening future pants ever forward at a maddening pace, and we must face it head-on if we are to survive the approaching hour. The enemy is already gathering the crows. We, our people, have slept too long. The time is past for wishful thinking. Are there dangers to be faced? Many... Will people die because hasty decisions are made? Yes! Nonetheless, we must not falter in our determination. We need to become risk takers, if the risks are within reason."

The captain nervously agreed.

Trisha acknowledged him. "The risks we are taking this night are acceptable. I trust my people, your crew, you and this ship. Trust, my friend, may be the only solace we have in coming days. My assignment is to get our people through those cold, ruthless times and beyond. This I must do at all cost to myself and those who follow behind my banner."

Her voice became harsh and foreboding. "I have not come from the other side of death to watch this world also dissolve into forgotten memories before my eyes. I will do whatever it takes, sacrifice all heedless of the cost to accomplish my purpose, the purpose your mother placed me under oath to accomplish. If it means death to us all, then so be it, for through that death shall all life be renewed."

Captain Uuzuloft glumly nodded, "Thank you, commander. I will assist you in every way I can. Your servant..."

Trisha stood, the captain also rising. "Captain, I knew I could trust you in this. Please keep a weather eye out for our safety and alert me to anything you feel is of importance. There is no need to take unnecessary risks today, or any other day for that matter. Thank you."

(Author's note: _Dogie managed to survive the upcoming King's War, serving faithfully in fulfilling its yeomanly duties transporting animals, supplies, and even troops to the various theaters of the conflict, Captain UuzuloftChumay remaining the ship's commander until it was once again decommissioned shortly after the end of hostilities. Languishing in the Obeb Navy Depot, nicknamed the 'Sea of Derelicts', because of the tens of thousands of old warships, fighters, and transports delivered there when the Children's naval arm was officially disbanded just before the beginning of the Fourth Age, Dogie waited its ignominious fate like that of so many other ships._

_In time, some of the abandoned ships were revived to new life when, shortly after the beginning days of the Fourth Age, the offspring of those valiant men and women from earlier ages reached out for the skies in pursuit of their own destinies. Refitted_ _again as a collier and renamed 'Montauk', Dogie transported fuel rods to and from the ancient Pudict Refinery, deep in the CastenRill Star System, for the remainder of its serviceable life. Abandoned after the Pudict Refinery closed down, Dogie slowly became a crumbling ruin._

Tales regarding the history of the King's War ignited a passion in the hearts of future generations who had grown up in an age of peace and longed, through rhyme and verse, to relive in spirit what their forbears had experienced in the flesh. At long last, Dogie was delivered to the Naval War Museum at Tilgath on Pilneser, where the ship was restored to its former condition when it transported the field marshal and her contingent on her return voyage to EdenEsonbar.

_Dogie remains at Tilgath on Pilneser down to this day, a fitting symbol of the courage, valor, and sacrifice of so many who traversed star systems in these lightly armed craft which were, at times, more fit for the scrap yard, while often traveling alone on cold, empty seas to deliver to the armies of the Children's Empire needed supplies that assured them final victory. Ref: The periodical "Ottawa", Issue Ninety-Two,_ _Warriors Without Swords_ _\- UuzuloftChumay_ )

Zadar arrived at that moment, interrupting further discussion. He saluted Captain Uuzuloft and then addressed the field marshal. "Commander, the wardroom has been readied. Your lieutenants are gathering there as I speak."

Trisha thanked Zadar for the information, and then parted Captain Uuzuloft's company, encouraging him to contact her immediately if he felt it necessary. When out of sight of Dogie's crew, Zadar grabbed Trisha's arm, pulled her close, planted a huge kiss on her lips and, standing back to observe the woman's shocked surprise, challenged, "I'll race you to see who gets there first."

Trisha scowled angrily, but her twinkling eyes betrayed her jollity of the moment. Frowning, she replied with mock condescension, "Lieutenant, I had anticipated more from my personal adjunct."

She reached up and began playing with the buttons on Zadar's uniform while staring into his eyes, cooing, "And I expect you to live up to my anticipation later this evening..." Pulling Zadar close, she gave him an impassioned kiss, and then quickly pushing him away, hurried off down the corridor.

The wardroom was crowded and stuffy, the area having only recently been cleaned and swept. Dust hung heavy upon the air, the filtration system designed only for a feed storage room. Along with commanders, staff officers and the several adjuncts who flitted in and out of the wardroom, there were often nearly two dozen souls crowded into what had been a store room for bedding only hours before.

Using straw bales for chairs and table supports, there was room for about a dozen people to sit - that is, if two would share a bale. This was not the intended location for the meeting, but as General Tolmetes informed the two new arrivals, "There is such a fuss still going on in the main gallery - the stables that recently housed the KaminosKtisis now being converted to a wardroom - what with the electricians, carpenters, and whoever still busy trying to put the place together, we felt it prudent to arrange our first meeting here considering the time. A little close, true, but still roomier than an Egyptian slave galley."

Trisha was pleased, anxious to begin. This was the first official staff meeting to discuss preparations for the upcoming war. War? Oh yes, Trisha was certain of it now, especially since her diplomatic introduction and Asotos' verbal trouncing earlier. The woman was feeling heady over her first confrontation with the enemy, her salvo fired across his bow a warning of her future intentions. No quarter, no parley! She was arrived, the savior of this world, and would administer that authority with power absolute! This war council was a good place for the new field marshal to begin the demonstration of that authority.

(Author's note: _Lessons are often hard taught and as this former commander of the Children's Army has confessed to me, 'The last person to know she has reached for a bridge too far is the one extending her arm.' As history rightly testifies, Lowenah had chosen well the child to lead her people in the coming conflagration, but this child still needed to be taught humility. As Trisha later acknowledged, 'An effective leader must be a humble leader. Humility is often learned at great cost._ ')

With Tolmetes in the lead, Trisha made her way to the front of the room. Addressing those in attendance, she issued her first official order as commander of the Children's Army by dismissing the junior officers and staff assistants except for Zadar and BenettiShupgoe, her personal valet and secretary, assigned to Trisha's staff at Lowenah's request shortly before the prisoner exchange. The woman later became one of the Council of Eighty.

(Author's note: _Benetti's name is rarely found in the annals chronicling the history of the King's War. It should be understood by the reader that except for Trisha's romantic interludes with Zadar, Benetti was constantly in the field marshal's company, often sharing the same stateroom if an adjacent cabin was unavailable. Later, during the war, after Zadar was reassigned to the Navy as fleet captain, Trisha drew close to the Benetti for consolation and comfort, the two eventually sharing with each other their dreams and lovers._

Benetti's voluminous, detailed accounts recording the field marshal's life during the tumultuous times of the King's War, including their intimate moments together, provides the most comprehensive compilation of information for any of the children delivered up from the Lower Realms before or during that war. Although never officially published, Benetti's written works, including her personal diaries, are publicly available for the reader's perusal in the Hall of Records at Palace City on EdenEsonbar.

I have borrowed liberally from her written accounts and lengthy interviews she has permitted me, to obtain insight into the heart and mind of the former field marshal during this time, helping to flesh out my account of the war. Few were the secrets between these two women, and there was no secret from Trisha revealed to her that Benetti failed to record with quill and parchment.

_By war's end, these two women had become inseparable. Where was the one, you would find the other. This relationship has lasted well into the Fourth Age, Trisha and Benetti sharing countless, less dangerous adventures together. To this day, they are close companions, celebrating with exuberance when chance greets the crossing of their paths_.

_The novel,_ _My Inner Voice_ _, is a thinly disguised fictional biography about Trisha's coming of age in the arms of this woman. Artfully crafted and brutally honest, the reader is taken on a rollercoaster ride of emotional intrigue, from guilt forged by a tormented past to the ecstasy of unrestrained passion through immortal visions. Misty, Trisha's alter-ego in the story, is totally unabashed about her inner struggles adjusting to the freedoms offered in this strange and often erotic universe into which she has been thrust._

Trisha's own inner voice, so often mentioned in her memoirs, was none other than this confidant who taught her how to trust and love. By her own volition, she admits that it was Benetti who helped her gradually fall in love with the children from the Realms Above, helping her to see their world with sympathetic understanding.

_Benetti was also successful in softening Trisha's orders and directives given to the army, making them more palatable to accept. Indeed, Trisha feels that without Benetti's assistance, she doubts she could have successfully united Lowenah's children under her command. Though the woman is rarely mentioned in these Chronicles, it is hoped that the reader will recall Benetti's loving influence as the inner voice guiding Trisha during those troublesome days. Always she hides in the shadows of the accounts written herein._ )

After presenting a brief overview of the military's current command structure, the supporting role of the army and its primary strategies, Field Marshal Trisha requested General HoiO to come forward and discuss the current situation of the Children's Empire and its possible implications. He went into some detail for the benefit of those less familiar with the First Realm universe. Although sorely tried by several polite intrusions and, at times, lengthy observations by the new commander, HoiO dutifully presented his information.

With renewed war all but assured, it was imperative that the Children's Empire be prepared to make the initial strike if permitted by their new king, Mihai, or at least lash out quickly if the enemy should hit them first. This meant that preparation for an offensive operation must start immediately, all the while making ready for the implementation of defensive measures to protect the Empire. The logistics required to remove military personnel, supplies and equipment, needed manufacturing facilities, and possibly a large civilian population, were monumental in themselves, but this all needed to be accomplished with great stealth, and without weakening other critical defenses.

There were one hundred twenty-seven known jump portals, fifty-one located within the boundaries of the Empire. Of them, sixteen were vital for security of the Empire, four critically so: the Hindly Page, Kalahnit Straits, Teleohodos and Eden's Gate.

The Hindly Page, located east-southeast, Q-north of EdenEsonbar, had seen some of the most vicious fighting over the ages because of its proximity to Stargaton and the Outer Corridor, one of the main channels leading to and from the Frontier. Whoever controlled that jump portal could bypass the dangers of sending their navies down the Bloody Valley Corridor, avoiding the Trizentine, Nebulan Cloud Bank, and all the dangers associated with that channel.

The Kalahnit Straits were named in honor of EhleenohrKalahnit for her successful defense of Avery, thus saving the straits for the Children's Empire, and a month later leading her army in retaking Mordem. The following year, Ehleenohr was killed in an ill-fated attack during the Second Siege of Memphis. Although the Kalahnit Straits were far to the west and north in the Children's Empire, they were highly desired prizes for the enemy. A hard run through the Outer Corridor, up and around the Nebulan Cloud Bank into the broad Kalahnit Straits and then west across open space and the enemy would have the Kalahnit Jump Portal in its sights.

Adding to the straits' vulnerability was the ease of travel that these spacious channels provided, with few obstacles and little space debris to impede rapid insertion of a large battle fleet into that theater. A fast flotilla of cruisers and dreadnaughts could make the journey from the far eastern range of the Empire to the straits in three weeks. Major engagements between opposing forces for that portal had already added thousands of names to the roster in the Silent Tombs. It was an unquestioned given that the enemy would again attempt its capture in this upcoming war and that many more names would be added to that roster.

And the value of the Kalahnit Straits Jump Portal? It connected directly into fourteen of the jump portals located within the Empire. Should the enemy capture it, the amount of ships needed to protect against invasion through one of those exposed portals would reduce the Navy to little more than a blockading force, making any offensive actions nearly impossible.

The Teleohodos, 'Journey's End', was closest of all known jump portals to EdenEsonbar, the home planet, and gateway to numerous jump portals in the galaxy, but to none in the Middle Realms. No one seriously feared it was under any real threat of attack. Being only a few days' easy travel from Palace City, it was in close proximity to several of the military's space terminals, making rapid deployment to stage a defense of the portal an easy matter.

To top this, Lowenah ruled EdenEsonbar and might not take lightly an attack against what she considered her personal home, something Asotos understood painfully well, the scattered ruins of his battle groups' torn, shattered hulks drifting aimlessly in space a sharp reminder. The Trade Ship Wars, a time early on during the Wars of Rebellion when Asotos attempted to clear his territories of Lowenah's troublesome little silvery vessels she called her 'trade ships' learnt him quickly to leave Lowenah's ships to themselves as they peacefully plied the skies on Her business.

Eden's Gate was the most strategic of all the jump portals for both the Children's Empire and the League of Brothers. No other portal offered its users greater connectivity to other portals throughout the galaxy, also to the Middle and Lower Realms. True, it was hazardous to journey into the Lower Realms before first passing into and out from the Middle, but if machines were plated in elemental materials or suits made of such, gold being one of the easiest universal elements to obtain, ships could safely travel directly into the Lower Realms from the Upper.

There were also two major jump portals in the territories belonging to the League of Brothers that Eden's Gate emptied directly into. The military advantage to possessing Eden's Gate and either of the other two was obvious. For those reasons alone, there was always a heavy guard present at those portals, even during peace time, that lesson being hard learned when Legion used the Eden's Gate portal to invade the nearby planet of MueoPoros.

Long had the two opposing camps struggled for control over Eden's Gate, the Children's Empire succeeding in its final taking during the Three Hundred Years War. The main reasons for the First and Second Sieges of Memphis were to wrestle MueoPoros away from the League of Brothers, thus reducing the threat on this very important portal, and to provide bases for the Navy to operate out of for the protection of Eden's Gate, it being the only habitable planet in all the surrounding star systems.

Both attempts at taking MueoPoros ended in bloody failure for the Children's Empire, the armistice ending the Great War bringing a temporary halt to the thousands of years of bloodletting to secure mastery over that portal. It was a tenuous peace with no assurance Asotos might not renege on the accord, thus requiring a large standing military force remain guarding the great portal. Sadly, little attempt was made during that peace to secure a base within close proximity to Eden's Gate, an inconvenience at best, a disaster should Asotos choose to strike unexpectedly.

Now though, with war again looming on the horizon, all eyes would be focusing upon Eden's Gate, its very force of presence demanding that blood be shed anew if the Children's Empire was to survive. The loss of Eden's Gate would open the Empire up to full-scale invasion, one that might likely lead to its eventual demise. For even if the EdenEsonbar star system should be saved, secure, little hope would remain for its more distant territories.

There was little fear that Asotos would send an invasion force out through a portal to capture it. The dimensional laws of nature and energy did not follow set rules within the channels between jump portals. Time and space follow their own laws there. Ships navigating the portals traveled in a cosmic fog so to speak, with no available outside communication even with other ships traveling along with them. It had taken well into the Second Age before the mechanics of space travel had advanced far enough to permit flight by instrument though these portals, thus no longer requiring the prescient powers of the wisest of Ancients.

Down to this time, none really understood the mathematics controlling the portal passages. Like little children twisting the dials of a speaking machine to hear their own voices, the captains and navigators played with the energy signals within the universal harmonics to find their way along the sightless, timeless passages. And when reaching destination's end, a portal would cast out crew and ship into a vortex of bent and twisted laws in which little other than life support and gravitational machinery operated with any real consistency.

It might take twenty minutes or more for a ship to come back on line with its energy shields and weapons systems fully functional - a great danger for a ship to be in if entering enemy territory. Even a torpedo scow could disable or destroy a giant dreadnaught under such circumstances. The threat existed then, not from within, but from a conventional assault in open space. Should the enemy capture a major portal such as Eden's Gate, a door would be opened to allow full-scale invasion forces to rapidly and safely maneuver across vast distances, and to provide those same invading forces with quick reinforcements and supplies.

There was the dilemma. The portals needing protection were scattered across the universe, requiring several naval battle groups be deployed in guarding them, not to mention the need for a show of force maintained all along the border. The tenuous peace since the armistice had only increased the number of ships and garrisons required. Allowing Asotos to retain his holdings on MueoPoros and several star systems throughout the Children's eastern frontier along with the failure to remove the Stasis Pirates from the Trizentine forced the Empire to remain on constant alert for hostile activities. Even now continual patrols were necessary just to ensure the safe intercourse of trade with the Empire's eastern territories.

Hoio stepped back, his eyes scanning the room while offering a grim smile. Sighing, he concluded, "With the eventual peace at the end of the Great War, few of our people chose to remain in uniform, deciding instead to return home for one last hurrah before the next even bloodier conflagration that they all knew was coming. Many of those from the Army who remained standing the line securing the Empire were transferred to give support to the Marines stationed aboard patrolling ships or garrisoned on some lonely outposts. Some from the Army chose to join up with or return to the Navy, especially those from the Army's flight wings."

He shrugged, "Either way, the Army was left a skeleton of itself, its bases abandoned, equipment scattered helter-skelter across star systems, and its officer training academies closed. Nearly fifty years hence, many of the Army's shops, depots, and factories like the ShiGohn HowlKine Military Complex at Oros are little more than ghost towns haunted by the vulture, horned demons, and other such wild things."

The tone in Hoio's voice was not optimistic. "We must raise the dead and put flesh upon the dry bones of our once glorious army, and do it quickly. Swords must be sharpened, shields polished, and helms renewed, and there is not a moment to spare! The samurai must be resurrected in the hearts of the people. Courage and determination must be reborn. Our enemy has not slept. Now we must reawake!"

After Hoio was seated, Trisha asked her senior staff officer, BarkaiNofech, to sum up the supply and logistics situation. His report was rather lengthy and tedious, but to be expected what with all the dry facts and figures, numbers - or lack thereof - of supplies, personnel, equipment, and so forth. Barkai was an astute officer and understood well how wearisome such a presentation could be, often was. He did his best. When finished, no one could accuse him of not having thoroughly informed them about the current situation while not producing a major issue of 'death through boredom'. A summation of matters was this:

There were just not enough Navy transports available to supply the numerous garrisons scattered about the Empire thus forcing use of independent enterprises, i.e. Wildcatters. Although usually willing to assist the military, the Wildcatters were not considered as dependable a form of transport as were the commercial and military systems. Wildcatters' loyalties to the needs of the military were little above that of the colonies they supported. For many of the distant colonies, Wildcatters were their only transportation link other than larger colonies that might have ships of their own. Depending on Wildcatters meant for unpredictable supplying and reinforcement, especially in high danger and risk areas.

(Author's note: _The term 'Wildcatters' was a broad definition given to privately owned ships that lent themselves to the commercial transport system of the day. Up until the First Megiddo War, there was no Children's Empire nor was there any official regulatory transportation system in place. City-states, colonies or private operators provided for the peoples' needs, which were few. Transportation was much the luck-of-the-draw, so to speak. Whatever ship being in port willing to deliver one to his or her destination being available at the time became the only ship of choice_.

If the transportation arrangements were not to the person's liking, or should a long sojourn be on someone's mind, then apprenticing out or partnering up were the usual options taken to accomplish one's purpose. Of course, once the objective of obtaining the adequate vessel was realized, the need of supply and maintenance became a constant issue. To cover such costs, the proud new owner or owners would often offer up the ship to the service of others. Though honest and well-meaning, the very nature of the existence lived by these independent seafarers created a carefree atmosphere among these people, giving them a much deserved reputation for being undependable, thus the name they acquired in the universal tongue of today, 'Roustabouts'.

The Wildcatters came into existence after the Commerce Regency, which came into being around the time of the Second Megiddo War. It was during this period that the councils succeeded in gathering the many far flung territories to form a confederacy that came to be called the 'Children's Empire'. One of the first agencies set up by the new Children's Council was the Commerce Regency, its primary, assigned task to establish official trade routes and schedules, and to consolidate the colonies' many ships into one homogenous unit to accomplish its task.

Few of the private ship owners accepted the Regency's request to assist in this monumental venture. Indeed, the Roustabouts generally refused to acknowledge the Children's Empire, feeling it was a usurpation of powers granted to the individual by the Maker of Worlds. From that time forward, a loose fellowship grew among that independent lot, they gradually forming unofficial shippers' guilds of their own. These members received the name we translate into the universal tongue as 'Wildcatters'.

It was well into the Three Hundred Years War, after Asotos' pogroms against anyone not swearing allegiance to the League of Brothers, that the Wildcatters formed a loose alliance with the Children's Empire with the provision they be recognized as independent sailors loyal to the cause, but free of the Empire's regulations. Later, through negotiating efforts of JehanneEmmainomaiOrlèans, the Wildcatters finally offered their full support to the Children's Empire, cementing a binding fealty. Thus began the history of what to this day is called the 'Merchant Marines'.

_KfirNoiz' book,_ _Ghost Warriors_ _, sheds in-depth historical light on the role of the Wildcatters from their formation up through the final siege of Memphis, and the significant part they played in the winning of the Frontier Wars_.)

General Barkai did suggest that the Children's Empire officially recognize the Wildcatters Shippers' League as an independent ally, flying both its and the Empire's colors, to open the Empire's bases for supply and repair of Wildcatter ships, provide Marine support for the protection of vessels and crews, along with some recommendations concerning protocol, rank and privilege, and diplomatic recognition. Later, as the war continued to progress, many of Barkai's concepts were implemented.

Even should the Wildcatters abandon themselves completely to the Children's cause, Barkai doubted those added numbers would be enough to sway the war in their favor. "I believe their role will be little more than scouting, skirmishing, and occasional transporting. I think the major role of such madmen is to be that of giving a psychological boost to our tired, war-weary people."

Despite his current reservations, Barkai would remain a staunch advocate for gaining those peoples' allegiance, and would later successfully lobby to have them seated on the Children's official war councils. Although the upcoming command structure of the Children's military was decided upon before the prisoner exchange, few other than the ones directly involved in making those changes realized the extent of them. This included Barkai and most of the members of Trisha's war council. Other than hinted rumors, which could not be trusted, the general had to base his calculations on the currently understood leadership arrangement, thus placing Trisha as commander en-force, overseeing a band of subordinates who saw themselves nearly as independent as the Wildcatters, as had been the long-standing practice of the Empire. This was especially true of the Navy, it seeing Gabrielle as its supreme commander, with the field marshal having a supporting role.

Using that understanding as his foundation, Barkai painted a dismal picture for the Army, especially considering what would be expected of it should the new field marshal prove successful in arguing her strategy for fighting the upcoming war. The rumors of official divided command only troubled him the more.

His spoken fears regarding lack of cooperation, supply and support were blunted when Trisha assured those gathered that would not be the case at all. "The sun rises upon a new day. We have ruling over us a king who, while not leading her army into battle, shall still gather its power and glory from afar. One kingdom, one banner, one battle cry will be heard among the people. One machine will rise from the mist to engage a troublesome foe, one hand...one heart...one voice. Trust me on this. Trust me..."

Barkai smiled skeptically, hoping that it would be. He pointed out factually that at the present moment he had little positive information to share on how the military would be transported and supplied in a major campaign. "All you have declared may all be well and true. I hope it is so, but as for me, with the information available at this time, I am running blind. So little do we know - not even an accurate number of those still with us in uniform. The latest official inventory of military supplies, ships, and equipment is twenty years old. Why, we don't even know for sure how many active bases we are currently operating."

Trisha raised a hand. "My brother, please trust your fate to this new arrangement. I tell you for a fact, it has not been over ale and magic weed that decisions were made. And I will also tell you all a secret for your ears only: this arrangement was concocted by none other than the Maker of Worlds, herself. True! I was there. What she is up to or exactly how it will all work, I do not yet know, but I do trust it all seeing it has come from her own mouth."

The tension in Barkai's face eased. After thanking the field marshal for such news, he went on at length to reveal what information he did have. In conclusion, the general attempted to lift the spirits of the others by pointing out the upcoming completion of three new carriers, revealing that Gabrielle, herself, was soon to take command of Sophia. "Once those new carrier fleets are on line, we will have battle groups equal to anything the League of Brothers can throw at us." He then quietly sat.

After another half hour of official conversation and debate, Trisha stood to bring a conclusion to the evening's proceedings. Her dander being still up from the prisoner exchange, she suffered her lieutenants with pummeling rants, carrying on as though they were responsible for the current state of affairs and lack of preparedness. Had these officers been of thinner skin or less amenable nature as might be found in the diplomatic corps, the remainder of the meeting might have erupted in riot, but this did not happen. Wisdom abounded about that table, the officers understanding the real reasons for their appointments to serve as the field marshal's lieutenants.

Her tongue filled with righteous indignation, Trisha stormed, "How can I determine our real strength if you do not have accurate numbers? Tell me, please! If you know, is there a current roster showing the exact number of even our officers presently in uniform?"

No one offered to hazard a guess.

Exasperated, Trisha coldly stated as if speaking to wayward children, "Your brother will not wait for us to gather the pigeons or assemble the couriers before his coming day of vengeance. He will strike soon! Very soon, especially since I made him piss his pants at the prisoner exchange..."

She turned and stared up at the ceiling. "You say there are currently about one million soldiers serving in all facets of the military, and many of them are busy growing crops, mending clothes and repairing equipment in order to keep our military machine alive. I bet you don't have one tenth of that number available for a full knock-down, drag-out fight! And..." she angrily stomped the deck, "I'll bet there aren't enough derelict tubs as good as this one to transport half that number into battle!"

Frustrated, Trisha groused, "Asotos will hit us in less than six months, one hundred eighty days! He will carry in his van twenty million battle-tried, frontline warriors, and what will we have to stop him up but a piss in the wind...oh, and a new carrier that will be undermanned!"

Eyes aflame, she quickly turned about, leaning forward and resting her hands flat on the table, exclaiming, "The hour has passed for pleasantries! At whatever cost and by whatever means, we must tap into the resources available to us if we are to resist Satan's onslaught!"

She glared, defiant, "Veterans must be recalled to service, new recruits enlisted, every old naval ship resurrected and private ships commandeered. We also must rebuild our military machine by whatever means possible. The time for lazy slumber is over!"

Standing back, she began to slowly pace, hands clasped behind her back, speaking indifferently, as if merely thinking aloud. "At the upcoming wars council meeting, I am introducing my recommendations for bringing this people up to speed \- no more room for slackers. I will advocate the military be given permission to make use of the clause in the Empire's constitution that allows us to exercise the powers of eminent domain over all property and possessions of the civilian population that are deemed important to the cause. I will propose that, if necessary, a confiscation protocol be put in place for the procurement of foodstuffs and other necessary supplies, this to include the indenturing of the population for its successful accomplishment. And, if necessary, we will implement a draft to refill the ranks of the military."

Trisha looked into the faces of her lieutenants, their own faces expressionless. Shaking a finger high, the field marshal smiled, "A time comes when freedom can only be bought with slavery, a lesson my kind have learned well. Slavery! Yes, slavery to a cause with only the reward that such slavery shall again, one day, return the people to freedom."

Observing no reply, Trisha went on about other more mundane matters, feeling that the others were beginning to grasp, as Asotos had, that this creature from lost worlds was not to be trifled with. Hers was the way - the way of the Romans and Greeks, the way of the Babylonians and Persians, the Egyptians and all the great nations that had understood the need to commandeer freedom to protect their empires. Was she not to bring Hell to Heaven? Was slavery not part of this Hell, a desperately needed Hell to save the people from their own laziness?

And what of those in the room being pummeled? Asleep they were not, but filled with wisdom, as Lowenah knew they would be. Like a mentor quietly releasing the reins to an underling, these people knew that Trisha must push the envelope if she were to grow. Who better to receive the blows than the ones who understood the reasons? For the moment, Trisha must be the brash, arrogant antagonist, being permitted to openly express her views and desires no matter the depth of her caustic criticisms. Then, when the hour was right, like that patient mentor, guiding hands would share in taking hold the reins again to teach the youngling how to master the powers of the team to do the bidding of her will.

Although the mind may reason with such logic, it is often not an easy matter for the heart to share the mind's understanding. Trisha lingered after her lieutenants were dismissed, intending to continue with business the following day. At length, only she and Zadar were found in the room. Feeling the energy of her assumed successes this night, she sauntered over to the man as he sat studying some recent communiqué. Stepping up behind Zadar, Trisha leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his back. Nuzzling close, she whispered sweet seductions in his ear.

Zadar did not respond the way Trisha expected. Instead, he politely feigned need to attend to pressing matters and might find the hour late before accomplishing them. Trisha was taken aback, the man never before refusing her advances. Standing up and requesting he face her, she asked, confused, what was so important that it could not wait a few fleeting hours hence. Looking up into Trisha's face with red, swollen eyes, Zadar asked if he could speak freely with the commander.

Trisha blinked, surprised to be addressed in such a formal manner by the man who had shared her bed the very night before, and the night before that. "Why... why certainly. I... I wish you hold no secrets from me at all... Whatever is on your heart."
Zadar spoke hesitantly, his voice cracking at times. "I... I love you so much...much more, or at least differently than I have any other woman. Yet my ardor for you is not as great for you as my passion for my own kind."

He stood, tenderly squeezing Trisha's upper arms. "You see the world as it is now, you being born into it at this very late date. I have seen this world only through its grieving times, its misery and tribulation, witnessing not the early days of innocent bliss. Yet to imply that my kind are listless and uncaring is to say that I, too, am such. To believe that slavery will win over hearts that have known only freedom is to believe one can gather up the salty oceans and drink fresh water.

"My love, you see a world of carefree children wishing only for days of bliss. I see rivers of blood and bodies torn asunder trying to preserve what little sanity might remain in this sordid world. I have held the ruined and shattered bodies of my companions and lovers as life drained from their faces, consoled the dying as they begged for one last drink of water. More battles have I seen, been witness to, shared in than years you have lived."

Zadar turned away to hide his tears. "My people are not shiftless. They are torn, battered, beaten, used up. For these many thousands of years, they have returned to the Kriggerman's haunts to again face the demons of darkness. The dead wish for nothing. The living wish to feel nothing, jealous over the peaceful state of their dead kindred. This Hell that burns so deep, to the consuming of our hearts, is what my kind dream of escaping. Romancing the past helps them forget the present, allowing them to feel something other than despair.

"Hope...hope in an eventual release from a Hell that is far greater than any your kind has suffered is the reason my kind fight and die...hope that should enough blood be spilt in ignoble combat, the Kriggerman's lust for the slaughter will eventually be satisfied, and my kind will again be allowed a return to some kind of sanity. Our hope is that your kind will help us achieve our release from the Kriggerman's iron grip, that your kind will deliver us salvation."

Zadar's voice faltered, his shoulders slumping. "But what good is salvation if it is only an exchange of one kind of servitude for another? The Kriggerman wears many disguises."

Trisha was stunned silent. She knew not what to say or do in response to Zadar's revelations. The woman did not, could not comprehend the meaning of her lover's words. She could not fathom the anguish in his heart at seeing the savior of his kind revealing the utter contempt she had for them. She could not see that it was not his love for her, but his trust in his Mother that kept him from rebuking her and taking his leave.

Before Trisha could make reply, Zadar turned and took her hands, the tears on his cheeks reflecting the room's light. He bowed his head, apologizing, "Forgive me, please, for my brashness. You are our chief magistrate in war, a gift from Mother to be revered and supported. Wisdom she has given to you that I do not have, nor do I claim to understand. I am, always will be your loyal servant, and I do love you. Always will..."

He hesitated, and then made request. "Please allow me a little time to sort out in my mind these current feelings I am experiencing. Tomorrow, yes tomorrow will be much different, but tonight I need time to think."

Trisha frowned, dismayed, but acquiesced, deeply troubled and still very confused over the issue. Zadar thanked her and, taking his leave, quietly exited the room.

About this same time, the first officer was briefing Captain Uuzuloft concerning a strange anomaly that had been plaguing Dogie's scanning equipment throughout the day. "We noticed it about eighteen hundred hours, when we first engaged the hyper systems. It has continued to fade in and out of our scopes ever since. At times we can find a signature, but it's of no known engine design that we have record... that is, if it's really an engine at all. The signal is too weak and garbled for us to obtain a true lock on it."

Frowning, the officer added, "It has been on a constant track with us since we picked up the signal, changes course and speed as we do. It might be a ship shadowing us, but it doesn't seem likely."

Captain Uuzuloft leaned forward, tapping the navigation screen after a white, glowing dot flared bright and quickly faded away. He did not feel comfortable about the matter. "This tracking equipment is in need of servicing, been neglected far too long. It might be a glitch in the machinery. Still," he stood back, thinking, while playing with his beard, "could be our own ship's echo, space debris, or something else related to our speed."

Hesitating a moment, considering whether the field marshal need be bothered with this, Uuzuloft sighed, "Keep a close eye on this and let me know if it behaves in any way hostile or threatening. If you conclude it is a vessel of any kind, contact me immediately. Also, please keep a detailed log regarding this, charting, times, intensity of its signature. Even if it is just an anomaly, the information might prove useful in the future."

At that, Captain Uuzuloft took his leave, surrendering the bridge to his first officer. Dogie continued along its course toward EdenEsonbar and whatever the future fates had chosen for it. The anomaly continued to haunt the ship's detection systems far past Pilneser, finally disappearing completely after the Teleohodos Jump Portal. Except for on duty crew, the remainder of those aboard quietly slept, that is except for a perplexed field marshal who lay awake, listening to the heartthrob of Dogie's engines while sadly pondering why her lover had rejected her arms this night.

* * *

(Author's note: _The following is an excerpt from Garlock and Copeland's,_ _The King's War_ _, pp 204-205._

" _There were eight commanding and staff officers, all hand-picked by Trisha and Lowenah, and all with Lowenah's personal approval. Five were from the First Realm and three from the Realms Beneath. Four were her top generals and the rest were her top-ranking staff officers._

HoiOnarasis, meaning 'son of my dreams or visions', was among the oldest of Trisha's officers. He had been one of the leading generals from the first days of the Rebel Wars. 'HoiO', as most people called him, was Trisha's immediate lieutenant. His long history of leadership and prowess along with the great respect he commanded made him the outstanding candidate for such a position. One other personal ability made him valuable to this company. He was also a healer.

NoazOhfehr, 'the fearless young deer', had grown up in the wild cold of what was called the 'Outer Ranges', a string of planets in the far western reaches of the Empire known for very short, warm seasons and long, harsh winters. He was much younger than many of Lowenah's children, but his exploits had made him well known. That same reputation carried over into his leadership during the Rebel Wars. At times, he appeared almost reckless in his combat strategies, yet he had the skill to carry his tricks off. Noaz was one of Trisha's four generals.

DinChizki, 'justice is my strength', was one of Lowenah's much younger children. He and Noaz had been selected for these positions because it was felt the younger ones were more willing to endure the wars to their success than many of the older children. Din's corps had been trapped at Memphis. After his superior officer was killed, he took command. Ordering a daring, almost suicidal counter attack, he managed to temporarily breach the north passage wall in what was later called the 'Battle of the Tower Gate'. This bold move secured escape for over half his corps plus thousands of others also trapped there. As a note: this was the battle Darla referred to as the 'Gap' where a missile wounded her and killed a companion.

_The one woman among Trisha's leading generals was a relative newcomer to the First Realm. TolmetesRhedEpi, 'the daring chariot rider', 'Tolmetes', had lived during the dark years after the ancient empire of Trisha's day crumbled from existence. She had resided in a place called the 'Sudan' and, when a young woman, raced horses and_ _chariots on which her master wagered. Lowenah handpicked Tolmetes for this post, saying she had been delivered to the First Realm for that very purpose._

Trisha's top-ranking staff officer was known by the name 'Tizrela'. She had been one of Lowenah's personal honor guards at the prisoner exchange and was nearly as old as Gabrielle. Few possessed more wisdom, and none were more loyal than Tizrela. There were few of Lowenah's children better equipped to represent her presence than this child. Trisha deeply respected this woman's opinions, feeling at times as though they came directly from Lowenah.

Tabitha Copeland had lived in the Second Realm around the same time Jebbson did but in the island homeland from which his mother migrated. Her formal education and desire to learn domestic history and war's personal experiences provided Tabitha precious insight into warmongers and other pompous egotists. This, combined with a highly analytical mind and phenomenal mathematical cognizance, made Tabitha valuable in deciphering an enemy's strategies. Already, during the thirty odd years of her existence in the First Realm she had served on many councils and held staff positions for high-ranking officers.

Richard Finhardt was an interesting person, to say the least. Like Jebbson, he was no stranger to war while still living in the Second Realm, but the war machines of his day were much more refined than in Jebbson's. Richard was educated to become a mechanic and he took those skills to the skies. By the age of seventeen, he had earned the status of fighter pilot. He remained in aviation after the war, flying gliders and such like aircraft. Later, in a nasty little civil war, he reached the rank of wing commander and distinguished himself with the title of 'ace'. Crippling injuries, caused when an experimental ship he was testing exploded, forced him into a secluded retirement. During his few remaining years in that realm, Richard took up the study of sociology and philosophy, eventually becoming a deeply religious man.

BarkaiNofech was Mihai's next oldest sibling. In the peaceful days before the Rebellion, he was known as Mihai's herald and would often be escort for her at special occasions and festivities, thus the name given him by Lowenah, which meant, 'my jewel who announces the dawn star'. Barkai had served on Gabrielle's, Mihai's and even Lowenah's councils from time to time since the Rebellion. He had a knack for seeing the whole picture quickly, assimilating seemingly unrelated information and making logical sense of it. During the Great War, Barkai not only was one of Mihai's staff officers, he also flew in her fighter squadron.

_These eight people, HoiO, Noaz, Din, Tolmetes, Tizrela, Tabitha, Richard, and Barkai would soon help change forever the lives of those in the First Realm. Cities would crumble to dust and armies would vanish before the gods of war would grow weary. The generations of the after-days would recognize the value of the slaughter and destruction. But that was in the future. It had been placed on the shoulders of Trisha and her lieutenants to make that future possible. And that was going to require convincing Lowenah's children to not only support the coming wholesale fratricide, but also to willingly participate to bring its success. All eight people knew the importance of coming events and all accepted the price they would forever pay for their role in its accomplishment_.")

A foul curse rent the cabin as a missile of crumpled paper smashed harmlessly against its outer wall, tumbling ingloriously to a floor strewn with earlier, similar wreckage. Groaning in frustration, Mihai angrily tossed her quill aside, burying her face in tired hands supported by elbows carelessly resting on sheets of her finest linen stationary scattered across her tiny desk. Filled with self-loathing, she went on to excoriate every aspect of her very being.

What a fool she had been! Throwing away the beautiful treasures they had brought was only an embarrassment compared to the total stupidity of her other actions. Then to top it off, she had disregarded the very person Ma-we provided to advise Mihai at the exchange, discounting her as unstable and possibly dangerous! And yet Trisha's actions secured the safe release of the prisoners. And now, faithful to Mihai's orders, that same selfless servant was departed EremiaPikros on a cattle barge when it was she who deserved little more, if as much.

Coming events would require a leader to have the unquestioned trust of the people. Mihai's fiasco at the exchange certainly didn't engender much of that. If her heart hadn't ached so, she probably would have broken down and cried. What good was she anyway? Just a failure, yes, always had been just a failure...

A soft knock came at Mihai's cabin door and a sweet, almost cheerful voice called out from the other side, "My dear, may I please come in?" Mihai remained silent. She buried her head further into her hands, wishing to be able to shrink into nothing and disappear.

After a moment, the sound of the latch turning and rollers moving on their tracks signaled warning of an opening door. Mihai did not look up. A gentle swirl of air lightly brushing the woman's face made her aware of an intruder's uninvited entry. The door slowly closed, the castle's wall breached. Mihai stiffened in anticipation of the coming onslaught...something that did not occur.

As she sat there, face buried in hands, Mihai could hear soft, rhythmic breathing playing a soothing tune upon her ears, quickly followed by the nearly imperceptible sound of quiet footfall from naked feet on metal deck plates. Her muscles tensed up in dreaded anticipation of what might follow, so much to be craved, but so repulsive because of the mood she was in. Then it struck, the magic touching of Mother's fingers, and all Mihai's resistance to Ma-we's presence melted away. Ever so gently, Ma-we undid her child's blouse. Then pulling it down off tired shoulders, she began to dance her fingers across Mihai's naked skin.

Mihai's heart attempted to ignore the rapturous tingles racing down her back and flooding her extremities, but she quickly surrendered to Mother's lenitive touch. With a weeping moan from the intoxicating pleasure and a crying heart, Mihai sighed, relaxing, dismayed.

"Please, please don't... don't..." Mihai's lips attempted a coup against Ma-we's sensuous onslaught only to fall victim to Mother's witching powers. Tipping her head back, she reveled in the emotion, becoming lost in the innocence of long-forgotten childhood memories.

Ma-we leaned close, whispering wistfully in her child's ear, "I've missed you, your company these several days since the prisoner exchange. I worry sometimes you know, about you. So I ventured over here to see my darling daughter."

Mihai reached over, placing her right hand on her left shoulder, covering Ma-we's hand with hers as she did. Craning her head until she looked into her mother's eyes, Mihai bemoaned, asking, "How can you still love me, still care for this worthless brattling when she has failed you so? This wicked child deserves nothing but the whip and wheel! Indeed, they are too good for her. Look, that rebellious child stole from you gifts most precious and cast them before swine, even worse, nearly cost you the lives of your younglings."

Cocking her head, troubled eyes staring into Mihai's, Ma-we asked, confused, "So, which one of my children do you speak of? No message has arrived upon my ears regarding such a catastrophe."

Mihai frowned, exasperated, "Don't fool with me this day! The jester with stolen crown danced upon Salem's walls, gleefully tossing all her peoples' treasures to the enemy below, all the while casting aspersions upon the valiant warriors holding the gate before the foe. Again, the hero of Memphis showed her mettle under duress, trusting to the wisdom of a frightened waif while ignoring the counsel of valiant officers. You gave to me a treasure beyond measure, one of the three of prophecy and through insult and derision, I cast that treasure away. Now I cannot find words to express my regrets regarding my actions."

Looking toward the ceiling, she cried, "And what did I do in all my selfish pride? Sent the gift of God given to me away in a cattle barge...a cattle barge!"

Ma-we stepped back, aghast, her eyes twinkling deception. In mock surprise, she exclaimed, "My, my, oh what a wicked child. Or do we merely feel sorry for ourselves? Why, if I was in the mood to please my little brattling, I'd leave right now. But I'm in no mood to grant any wishes at the moment."

Mihai threw her hands to her face. "Mother, why do you do this to me?"

Ma-we cooed, surprised, "What? What am I doing to my little darling?"

Mihai stood and spun around, taking hold of Ma-we's arms. "Enough of this! You do not fool me at all! Your act of naivety is wasted with me. Do not think I could not see your face, feel your piercing gaze as I played folly with innocent lives. So easy it is to see my stupidity in all of this."

Looking into her child's eyes, Ma-we asked, "Stupidity?"

Mihai's exasperation reached its limit. "Must I spell it out?"

Ma-we frowned as if perplexed, puzzling over having missed something too obvious. "Well, yes, I confess that you must."

"Oh, you!" Mihai's frustrated reply carried on it an icy tinge of anger, Ma-we silently ignoring it. "A fool I am, and you know well that to be the case. No secrets can hide from your gaze, but seeing you wish to play the ignorant waif, I shall humor you. A fool I am for not accepting your gifts of counselors and their wisdom. Had I been successful, my entire company may well have been exterminated in heated contest while the prisoners murdered before your eyes. If not for the far-sighted action of the field marshal, Lord Trisha, and her personal bodyguard, the Witches of KordianHasur, the day would have ended in total disaster."

Mihai slammed her fist into an opened palm. "I walked into a trap with my eyes wide open, refusing to accept visions of impending doom they screamed out to me! And I having no excuse this time! Unlike Memphis where, for want of knowledge, I slaughtered my people, the outcome of this day was shouted out to me even at the last great council meeting. She I pushed away, proclaiming her birth to this world illegitimate, accusing her of having a twisted, demented mind, lifting her up as a greater enemy of mine than even the Snake." Sitting back down, Mihai rested tired arms on the writing desk and lowered her head in sullen remorse.

Ma-we again stepped up close to her child and returned to softly massaging weary shoulders. After a long interlude, she quietly answered, "Why, yes, that is exactly what you did. Very foolish! Very foolish, indeed! Not one thing right did you do, not one! Mistake upon mistake, countless they were, oh, and with foreknowledge you did them."

There was a long pause, the room falling silent except for the distant throbbing of the ship's engines. Mihai was about to burst into tears, knowing everything Ma-we had spoken was true, but not having expected those truths to be so bluntly expressed and so openly. Yet even more shocking were the following remarks that fell upon her ears.

Ma-we continued to stroke Mihai's shoulders. "To do the right thing may not always be the correct thing to do. A master of the game may misjudge his opponent if he believes the person greatly inferior. Your brother believed he faced an opponent far his inferior and you did little to disappoint. Yes, indeed, everything done wrong, all the wrong moves, or at least he felt it so, but for the true Master of the game, your moves were on the mark, and he fell right into my trap."

Ma-we wrapped her arms about Mihai in a big bear hug, whispering in her ear, "To defeat your opponent at the game, it is better to know the weaknesses of the players rather than their strengths. Search first for your own faults, for you must control the board. Then search out the other players, and look afar to the opponent who stands the contest against you. When you control the board, your adversary must always be playing catch up, following your whims. Do not give up the chase, even in defeat, and always stay on the hunt despite the hounds nipping at your heels." She stood back. "It is a lesson you must learn, especially now that you will not be playing the field, but shall be watching the players."

Mihai asked, concerned, "So you have played me to proffer the great folly I have committed against my sister-gift and all the others?"

Ma-we denied such a thing. "I said not that I controlled you or anyone else. Indeed, I remained true to my word and stayed out of matters until your evil brother demanded I enter them. But true also, I controlled the field. Did you expect less?"

Dismayed and curious, Mihai asked, "It makes little sense to my ears. You say that I was successful in my failures, and that you controlled the goings on at the prisoner exchange."

"I say 'no' to both your conclusions." Ma-we waved her hands in denial. "Your failures accomplished my purpose, thus I was successful, not you. Second, I knew the players well, so set the board accordingly in advance of the game."

Mihai stood and turned to face Ma-we while reaching out and placing her hands on her mother's shoulders as she began to argue, "You said that..."

Ma-we interrupted, "Look, I do know a thing or two. Mere oppression can make one act crazy, even the wisest among us. You know that to be true. Asotos had been playing you for some time in order to prepare you for this day - a fact you should have known if other emotions and loyalties hadn't gotten in your way, which they did. I also have little birdies that tell me things I need to know. I understood the field, the game your brother was attempting to play, and I was well aware of the mess you were in."

She reached up and began to massage Mihai's upper arms, casting her gaze at the work she was doing. "It took no wise magician to understand what you were going through. Even my Trisha understood it well - well enough to make you hate her in order to take your mind off him. It's one of her great strengths, you know."

Ma-we grinned, looking into Mihai's eyes, "Then I used her greatest weakness... something I must address soon... her ignorance of Asotos' real power. She faced the Dragon with fearless indignation and resolve, something I doubt the child could have done had she known the true glory and might of that man. So, both you and she played to my success by manifesting your weaknesses."

Mihai blurted out, as if all other matters told her were of little importance, "You called that snake 'Asotos'!"

Ma-we loosed her hold on Mihai and turned, walking a few paces toward the far wall of the cabin. Staring down at the floor, she sighed, subdued, "Yes, I guess it is so..."

Mihai watched her mother quietly standing there in thought, pondering the moment. Had Mother aged? No, impossible. Ma-we was immortal in flesh and spirit. Still, there was no question about it, she looked small, shriveled up into a tiny little thing, tired and worn, used up and beaten, having weathered one too many storms.

As if with great effort, Ma-we turned about, looking into her daughter's eyes once more, her hands clasped together, shoulders stooped. A troubled smile gradually grew on her face. "I think...I believe I finally fell out of love with the man. So long I had hoped, dreamed that he would change, held back the storm-winds in hopes he would. 'After all', I argued with the spirits, 'there is time. I still have time.' They wagged their fingers at me, warning that pain and heartache would find me sooner or later and, if later, would cause that much greater the pain."

She sighed sadly, "I refused to believe them, that is, until this prisoner exchange, the blazing fires upon the plain bringing me to my senses at the last moment. I finally opened my eyes in time to see his wanton act of my little Rachel's rape and murder, it then occurring to me there was no hope, never would be..." She lowered her head in remorse, her lips quietly releasing, "never had been..."

Standing erect, Ma-we stepped up to Mihai, a sad smile growing on her face, a tear running down her cheek. "There is nothing left of the person I once loved, only the living carcass of a decaying being who once shared my bed, my soul. Bereft of heart so long I had lived, refusing to admit the emptiness within and forgetting the loyal love I received from so many others. Yet it took the selfish act of a child so dear to me to show me my own selfishness. My Rachel chose a course that would pacify her soul rather than force her to live in a world of darkness."

She took Mihai's hands. "In her moment of despair, I saw not my child, but myself staring back at me from the looking glass. The scarecrow I beheld chided me for my evil dreams and wicked acts. 'The road! The road!' it cackled. 'Why does Rhiannon find excuse when there is none to be had? For what wanton reason have you cast your child into the burning sea when but for your own selfishness, no pain would the child ever have known? Did you truly believe he would change and suddenly become a good man? Was your hope so great that such a thing would happen that you risked all living things, chancing he might see his own evil and turn from it?'

"Suddenly, with the sound of crashing thunders, the mirror shattered before my eyes just as my child fell to the sands as if dead. It was at that instant the scales fell from my eyes and I could clearly see the hideous Snake, deformed in all his demonic splendor, and my heart was rent asunder but also renewed in that moment."

Softly stroking Mihai's arm, Ma-we mournfully crooned, "You see, I guess we all learned something new the other day." She peered into Mihai's eyes, asking, "You did learn something, didn't you?"

Mihai nodded, tears beginning, "Yes, yes I did. I learned that I can no longer go it alone. My glory, if I have any, rests in the strength and power of others. What do I do, how do I harness that power to do my will when I don't know what my will is other than to see this madness end? Alone I stand now, on a mountaintop destined not for any man to ascend to. How do I carry the weight of the universe and all the souls dwelling within?"

"Oh, my dear child!" The Mountain Rock, the Jahouk was returned in all its magnificence. Ma-we's voice resounded again with the strength and dignity of Power Divine. "You have learned, but not yet with the understanding needed. Allow me this word: Three are the swords, the first you have been witness to. Two yet remain in deep shadow, but blades of even greater might they each possess. You are not the wielder of these swords, but only their caretaker. By your crown, death you shall declare for your world, but blood and slaughter will be meted out by the declarations of others."

Mihai moaned, "Mother, I have murdered enough, my hands no more righteous than my forebear who was denied his wish to build your house. Now you say I must declare the world's demise. Should I play the incubus to the full?"

Ma-we lowered her eyes to stare at the floor, sullen despondency wafting upon her reply. "No my child, no, for I released the incubus upon this world three days past. For too long I held the demon in check, hoping beyond hope it would somehow fade away into only fitful dreams, but it has already sired Damian...so dreadful, so dreadful! I must now turn the tide before the moon sinks forever beneath the sea. Damian shall be twisted into what is to become holy so that his dark deeds deliver the new day. That is why I have done what I have done, myself changing times and seasons."

She looked up into Mihai's confused face. "You, my dear, have only the hour to choose for the world's demise. The ship has sailed, its sails set, and tiller tied fast. The north wind already is driving it onward, its stern to the biting gale. Choose then your world's hour of death. That is all you are to do."

The two fell upon each other's shoulders and wept profusely, they both in want of forgetfulness, a wishing for the Elder Days when the universe was fresh and innocent. Both knew the past could never be again, and each blamed herself for its destruction. Yet deep within the troubled hearts of mother and child was the understanding that this coming hour was assured to one day come, the Fates whispering in Ma-we's ears on the day she revealed future secrets to them, and in all the children's hearts as they stood upon the ramparts of the palace, yearning to journey beyond those walls into the unknown.

Yes, freedom of will, the very essence of life by its very nature promised this day was to come. Only then, when all knowledge was gained, and innocence was lost, could the universe be spared again from such evil. The Whispering Spirits had seen it, warning of its coming approach. Ma-we felt it, the twinge of dread the day she birthed her first child, a son, into this universe, and the children sensed it deep within their souls, troubling visions of shadows passing in the afterglow of fitful dream shares.

When the flood of tears had ebbed and the embrace satisfied troubled hearts, Ma-we stepped back, taking Mihai's hands as she did, warning, "Your brother will strike soon, for I have built an inferno within him. As before, you and your brothers shall take the blow with resoluteness."

She released Mihai's hands and began to slowly pace. Suddenly she turned, hand outstretched, her voice filled with anxious defiance. "But this time it will be different! Something beyond the fool's wildest imaginings will happen. Rising above the bloodied plain, three flaming swords shall sing out a vengeful song, all my loyal children joining in its chorus. Before him, the rage of Sharon will consume the very heavens and he will be filled with a dread of coming days. My children will have finally waked, and there will no longer be found any place or hope for him."

Ma-we looked into Mihai's eyes, pleading, "Please don't resist what the future must bring. I looked into the hearts of the children I have delivered here from the Worlds Below and even I can little fathom the monsters I have released upon this world. Fearless, reckless and full of hate they are with a malice so dreadful that I dare not speak of it even to you."

She lifted a hand, shaking a finger. "Oh yes, filled with love they are, but oh, what has been done to them that I cannot undo without destroying their very souls! Somehow, in some way that I must study further, they have wound the cords of love and hatred together into a harmonic bond that resists life and death. So strong is this bond, so perfect in its balance, it draws the powers of the universe to it, binding them together into one unbreakable cord. It, I believe, is the final unknown in the equation of your EbenCeruboam, and they the progenitors of it."

To say that Mihai was surprised to hear that the Maker of Worlds, the very inventor of all logic - mystical, ethereal, and material - had not known the final solution to the secrets of their sacred mathematics was astounding, her face reflecting such wonder.

Recognizing Mihai's dilemma, Ma-we offered answer waiting for no question. "Even I am not all-knowing, contrary to what many fools in the Worlds Below and maybe a few up here believe. My heart could not see this world's ending, its violence and rebellion, and there are others things I am still waiting on to discover. Then I made intelligence with freedom which, in and of itself creates uncertainty. Since, by their creation, all the possibilities in mortal math are limitless then, too, the evolution of intelligent thought and its effective outcome need be the same. That being the case, how can even I be omniscient when possibility is limitless, thus uncertain?"

She stared at the floor, quietly puzzling, "This unknown I have not yet studied, only recognizing it for what it is at the prisoner exchange, but I believe it will strengthen the universal fabric in the end. Yet how it will change it is still a mystery." Ma-we shrugged, "Oh well, it is the unknown horse that makes for an exciting race."

Mihai did not like it when Ma-we gathered herself to the 'somber moods', as she and her siblings called the times when Mother became so self-reflective. Truth be said, Ma-we rarely acted this way and with only a very select group of her trusted children. Darla was a new initiate to such revelations and to the depths of self-deprecation Mother might sink to at these times. But it was part of Ma-we's nature, as it was with all her children, even before the veil of darkness consumed their worlds. As the Maker of Worlds had often said, "One cannot fully appreciate the jubilation found on a mountain's peak if he has not first experienced the shadows of darkness of BrounBarraDonCumb."

Mihai silently puzzled over what her mother meant.

(Author's note: _Some readers may find it difficult to believe the Maker of Worlds being prone to gloomy moods and depressive thoughts, but so true it was and still is. Lowenah is more human than most of us wish it to be, or should I say that we are more Lowenah than we can fathom. True, fear of death and injury are foreign to this person, the very reason she did not contemplate the depth to which her math regarding it must be executed before the equation of the whole could be satisfied. Yet fear of failure, of having overlooked some important detail to the harm of her children troubled her constitution at times, troubles her even down to these days._

_We should not feel shocked at learning that the Maker of Worlds shares our very nature of both heightened exultation and deep sullenness. No, our shock and surprise should be that she so honestly reveals to her lowly creation this part of her being, a sterling example for us all. More than that is the truthful evidence that never did Lowenah allow her feelings to affect her decision-making to the harm of her creation...also a good example that her children should follow_.)

"Please," Mihai quietly begged, "you are too cruel to yourself. The best is all anyone should expect of oneself, yet you chastise your very being with what-ifs and should-have-beens."

Ma-we chided, mockingly, "Heal thyself, oh yes, great physician." She turned away, throwing her hands high. "Memphis! Oh Memphis! Oh what an evil child I am to have murdered my brothers and sisters in that awful place! Oh woe is me! I'm so evil! I'm so evil!"

Mihai covered her ears crying, "Enough, Mother, enough!"

Turning back to her daughter, Ma-we began to play her fingers across Mihai's arm, quietly cooing, "So my child must do as she tells her mother, 'Put behind you what you cannot change.'" She added in little more than a whisper, "Now, dear one, start anew the calling hour and listen and learn. You, my child, shall change the future, renewing breath and hope. Is that not good enough?"

"Oh, Mother..." Mihai moaned.

Looking into her eyes, Ma-we kindly admonished, "You have learned many lessons these past several days. One is that you are now king over these people not field marshal. Like me, you cannot afford to display self-pity, always being the strong, knowing leader, always the one with an answer when the helpless ask questions. As you step out before the waiting crowds in coming days, gone will be your uncertainty and self-degradation. It must never return for them to see. So goes the king, so goes the people, the Empire. Your energy they will consume, your light they will reflect. They will need that light, a very powerful one, during this coming darkness."

A shadow grew across Mihai's face as she pondered the weighty responsibilities now carried upon her shoulders, wondering if she had the inner strength to be successful.

Reading her daughter's thoughts through the girl's heart, Ma-we answered troubling questions without being asked. "Child, do you believe I have misjudged your power and abilities?" She grasped Mihai's arms. "No, child, no! I wove you in my belly long ago, laid out the cords upon which you were built. I know every fiber of your mind, heart, and soul. Strength there is within you, greater than most, and not all of my making. The tools I presented to you, but you constructed the tower. And mighty it is, too. There is immeasurable strength hidden within you - you, my most brash of humble children. It is there." She paused. "Believe me..."

Sitting down on the cot, she looked up at her child. "Besides, as you well know, you do not stand the field alone. This kingdom you have accepted rulership over is not everlasting. You merely sit a throne that has long existed - mine - at least the part of mine that directs your siblings. This is no revelation to you, for I thoroughly explained it to you as we journeyed toward the prisoner exchange. Is that not so?"

Mihai agreed, nodding, "Yes, Mother, you did, but I had so many concerns at the time, I paid little attention to what you were telling me. Please forgive me for not listening attentively."

"Pooh..." Ma-we replied jauntily. "Harm you did only to yourself and that but of little damage. Remember, you will, all that is necessary when the time is right. For now, I will remind you of just these few little matters."

Inviting Mihai to sit, Ma-we went on. "I have set some powerful players on my board, children from both realms. And yes, in a way, you rule over both these worlds of mine...in a way. Although kingly you are to act - and truly, you are a king - you are more so a steward over what shall be given to another. The Swords you will wield are only loaned to you until that promised one's arrival."

Ma-we mused, "As the king on my board, you are extremely important to the game, but you have very little power. Do not impose your will upon those of greater might who stand in lesser positions, for they may well humiliate you in their hour of revealing. It is not just in my Swords that greatness abides. Brothers and sisters aplenty I have delivered to the game who will sway the battle. Use them wisely by allowing them the freedom to choose when and how to unleash the powers given them."

She squeezed her daughter's hand. "I must also warn you, as I have already warned you: you are a stiff-necked child, stubborn and self-reliant. Good these traits have done for you in past hours, but an evil shadow they now cast upon you even as I speak. Tools for your own destruction they are when wrapped in the music of deceitful lovers and trusted companions. Remember please, poison is not hidden in bitter drink, but what is smooth to the palate is where the evil one pours the venom."

Ma-we sadly sighed, "You love me so, my child, but your heart betrays to me its stubbornness to not heed my counsel. Trust you do too much to the sweet tongue of lovers and counselors who sing merry tunes upon your senses. So, bitter must be the drink and rancid the food you must consume before the sun will shine upon Hope's new day. I wished it not be so, but you have forced the Fates to choose a deceptive road for you."

Mihai vehemently denied it to be so. "No! No, Mother, it is not that way at all! I love your counsel and want so much to carry out your slightest desire. My heart I will bind with an oath to accomplish all that is according to your wishes. This I promise!"

Staring into Mihai's eyes, Ma-we softly answered, "Yes, my child, I do see you believe it is so." She then leaned forward and kissed her daughter tenderly on the lips.

After a moment, Ma-we stood, preparing to leave. She offered some parting counsel. "You have become the furnace that will forge my children into the weapon that will bring down Asotos' house. Remember well that your brother has already given himself over to the god of fortresses. You must do the same. Turn these worlds of yours into a great machine of war. Use it up without mercy. Turn you pruning hooks into spears and your plows into fighting axes. All my children must learn the art of war. It is the only way you will win."

She looked into Mihai's face, asking, "Has Paul been of assistance with your night dreams? Do you sleep better now, since the prisoner exchange?"

Mihai smiled. "Paul is a good man. He refreshes my soul, makes me feel like a maiden again, wanted again. Yes, he has soothed my heart so that I sleep comfortably in his arms."

Ma-we smiled in return. "Good. Good."

Sliding open the panel door, she began to leave, turning as she did to offer one more bit of advice. "Cherished one, use that man to the full. He loves you so much. Feed off his love for you. Confide in him with your inner thoughts and dreams. Wisdom is to remain in his arms, speak the secret matters of your heart to him. The innocent will understand and the guilty will remain unknowing."

She threw another kiss, extolling her deep affection for Mihai, and took leave for her shuttle. As Mihai stood there, silently pondering the recent conversation, a sound of gentle footsteps fell upon her ears. She turned to see who was approaching, smiling her hellos.

"It is so good to see you, my dear," Planetee called, sweetly. "Are you ready to dine with me as we have arranged this eve? I have so many things to share with you, to tell you." She laughed carelessly, taking Mihai's hand, ignoring the lingering ache of her earlier injuries.

Mihai grinned, sliding the panel closed while replying she was ready. Tomorrow she could finish the note to her field marshal. Yes, tomorrow would be a good time to complete that and other business. Tonight she would forget all these stressful, troubling thoughts and relax with friends and companions. Tonight she would play the child, innocent of any kingly responsibilities. After all, the real ruler of the universe was still in her company. Tomorrow would be a good time to contemplate her new responsibilities regarding that, too.

She kissed Planetee on the lips, looking at her with flirting eyes. "I have been told there are a few bottles of Medeba wine secluded aboard this ship that the captain has saved for this eve. Shall we see if it is really so?"

Planetee grinned seductively, asking, "So, it is only my company with the wine that lifts your spirit? I had hoped for more than the elixir that merely excites the palate."

Mihai's eyes twinkled as she answered, "I've elixir that not only excites the palate but stirs the heart into heated passion. Rich with cream it is. Full to overflowing is my larder, for no milkmaid has found my stable in many long hours. Drink first, with me, the wine, then I shall make you drunk with my intoxicating potion."

Planetee kissed Mihai passionately on the lips, cooing, "Your milk, so sweet upon the tongue it is. Too easily you give your treasures away." She reached up and gently squeezed one of Mihai's breasts, feeling its fullness. She winked, crooning with desire, "What a shame that we must first suffer the wine..."

The two women laughed and hurried away.

* * *

A painful coughing spell woke Terey from a fitful coma, her dreams having passed into worlds beyond and returned again. Torrid dreams they were, too - ghastly, filled with unspeakable terrors and endless nightmares. As her eyes recognized shadowy forms flitting about and her ears listened to harried voices, she dare not believe she was awake or even really alive. She cried out, sputtering, coughing up bloody mucus that cut her voice off to little more than a whisper, "Am I returned or do I reside beyond the worlds of visions, dreaming yet another horrid nightmare?"

A gentle hand swept down along Terey's cheek, a voice softly singing a healing melody in the words it was speaking. "Alive? Oh, so alive you are, my darling sister. Back from the darkness you have come to me, to refresh my spirit and revive my heart. Yes, oh yes, so alive you are. So far away you have been."

Slowly, Terey's eyes began to focus, the shadowy face revealing two hypnotic, dark orbs staring into hers, handsomely full lips speaking ever so softly.

"An... Ann... A...nn...a," Terey muttered in surprise. "I am still in a vision lost. You cannot be Anna."

The person grinned, as she continued to softly stroke Terey's face. "You do not sleep nor are you lost in vision. I have come to you across time and space to be near my dear sister. My fear was your demise, for no report of your survival came to my ears until I stepped aboard the medical ship and searched for you myself."

Medical ship? Aboard a medical ship? Why was she not on Chisamore? What happened? She could remember little more of recent events other than being thrown to the floor and hitting her head. Seeing Terey's growing concern, Anna motioned to a doctor who quickly injected Terey with more sedative. Drifting off into dreamy nothingness, Terey could feel Anna's warm breath on her face as she whispered her promise to remain close until the woman awoke.

Terey was much more alert later the following day. After taking some mint tea and a bite or two of dry toast, she began to pester Anna with numerous, troubling questions. Anna finally surrendered up to the moment, believing her companion would not rest again until her curiosity was satisfied. "I will tell you all there is to tell, or at least all there is to tell you about this adventure, for there have been many adventures over the past few days, and yours is but one of them. Please be patient with your sister and I will reveal all you need to know for now." Terey thanked Anna, groaning a little as she wiggled about in her bed.

Anna began, "As soon as report reached our ears, our darling girl, Mihai - with Mother's blessing, of course - requested that I immediately take my leave to assist in giving aid to the survivors of Chisamore's disaster. After all, I am a renowned healer.

"Taking passage on a very fast packet, I departed EremiaPikros and soon found myself on the medical ship, Nhoset, the captain of Chisamore notifying me that those in greatest need were already aboard this vessel and headed for Tilgath on Pilneser. It was by chance that I found you, my dear companion. Dreadful it was at first to find this out, for only the severely injured are here."

She softly patted Terey's hand, smiling, "The doctors say you are healing quickly, and that your damaged lungs are on the mend. Your other injuries, I guess from what they say, were not life-threatening." She paused, stroking Terey's face. "So now you know how I came to be here and where you are headed."

"What of Chisamore and the others?" Terey asked, concern filling her voice. "Did everyone...?"

Anna placed a finger to Terey's lips, frowning sadly, "Over thirty of your fellows did not survive the ordeal." She swept a tear from her eye. "We came to believe that you, too, were among the lost, fearing your body one of those still entombed in unreachable parts of the ship. The captain has gotten up steam after making needed repairs, but fears Chisamore may not make the long journey back to the naval yard. Tugs are staying close if a need arises. He has with him only a tiny crew, just in case, you know - mostly engineers and technicians to keep things running."

Tears ran down Terey's cheeks as she thought about those who had perished and the many more injured. Before she could respond, a nurse arrived to flush her lungs. While the nurse set up the machine, Anna chatted on about other less important matters, promising to stay close for the remainder of the trip to Tilgath on Pilneser.

"I will return in a little while, after you're rested a bit." She kissed Terey on the forehead. "And then we will talk some more, I promise. Why, I will even stay a while with you after we reach the sanitarium in the city."

Terey nodded dreamily as the fluids began to fill her lungs, having a sedative-like effect on her. In a few minutes, she was fast asleep.

* * *

The little café was all a' bustle this evening, the owner hustling about to wait on his customers in a timely manner, promising that additional help would soon arrive. The fellow, a certain JemShoul, after spending several centuries mining for crystals in distant asteroid fields far out in the Northern Rim, had decided to take up the occupation of tavern keeper. Leasing an out of the way place far up the northern concourse from the Winter Gardens, JemShoul had settled down some twenty years before to the serving of culinary delights along with ale and hard ciders of his personal crafting.

Being sort of off the beaten path, Café Jem was usually quiet this time of season, a favorite place for those who enjoyed good food and drink in a restful atmosphere. Tonight, though, was far different - different ever since news of the prisoner exchange had reached the ears of the inhabitants of EdenEsonbar and its surrounding territories. Now was come the gathering of the birds to the Great Evening Meal, or at least symbolically so. Few had paid attention when announcement was earlier made of an upcoming prisoner exchange, fewer cared. But when news arrived regarding events during this last one? Well, things appeared different now.

So, so many exchanges there were in the past, all with similar results. Each was a volley of rebukes and threats followed by goods passing from the Empire's hands into the League's in exchange for a few half-dead, sometimes dead comrades and companions. The diplomats would return, waving hands high in self-adulation, while Asotos ranted over imagined insults, and everyone would go back about their business until another egregious act threatened the tenuous peace. Asotos would again capture a few hapless victims, accusing them of great atrocities and the children would gather up more of their precious wealth to buy the victims back. So it had gone many times.

This exchange had broken the cycle. There was a certainty in the air that things were different. Just as one can smell the coming night frost on a chilled, breathless eve, news of events carried on the air a message of change, a big change. Already sojourners from nearby territories and star systems were arriving at Palace City to await their new king's return. They were also eager to learn more about this Field Marshal Trisha and the strange band of warriors who made such a fool of Asotos. There was also a great deal of curiosity regarding a certain Darla and the part she played in all this.

These were the reasons that JemShoul found himself hustling about so this evening. Not only were the regulars present in greater numbers, the new arrivals pressed the resources of all the businesses in Palace City, including Café Jem. Also was the case that since so few rooms remained available, many customers often lingered at tables long after meals were eaten, the people having no place in particular to go. Jem's mead and grog were happily quaffed so one could keep his or her place at the table, but it did make the crowded tavern tumultuously hectic.

Into this lighthearted madness came a man newly arrived from a long sojourn in the wild jungles of EthoHule, far to the south of Palace City. In a booming voice, he announced his presence, plunging forward to press the flesh and gather hugs from old friends and lovers.

A grinning Jem rushed over, slapping the man on the back, shouting above the din, "Apollonius! Apollonius! I feared your demise or that maybe the Whispering Sirens of EthoHule had stolen you away. Good to see you, my friend!"

Apollonius laughed, denying any tryst with the witches of the jungle, though he'd wished for their company at times. "They say their loving touch is next to none, and their beauty worthy of the Immortals. Lo, the creatures found no delight in making me their captive, though I do believe I heard their hypnotic songs at times, especially after consuming some of the golden fungus that grew in the jungle's haunting caves."

Jem replied humorously, "You'll find no fungus here that will give your mind the siren's call, but the food and drink is good, the women comely and looking for such a handsome man as yourself to walk with them in the Winter Gardens. You know SuanTorrie? Of course you do. She's been moping about ever since you left us. If you wish, I'll tell her you've arrived."

Apollonius beamed, "Oh, sweet SuanTorrie! She was my guiding light, teaching me in the ways of your people, my first love in this world. I remember her pouting kisses the day I departed. So she's here?"

"Yep..." Jem answered. "Came in tonight to give me a hand. Find a seat and I'll send her over with a sudsy drink, some of my special brew."

After thanking Jem, Apollonius worked his way through the packed room, searching for old friends while feasting his eyes on the beauty of the many naked women roving about, several who shot him flirting glances as he passed. Apollonius' old Roman world was a wild place, and nakedness was common, but usually it was slaves or prostitutes that carried on that way. When a younger man, he had searched out the later to satisfy his desires, considering love to belong to romantics.

In this world, Apollonius quickly learned that love was natural for Lowenah's children and, given the freedom to express it, he found that it only grew. Many were the women he had come to love here, each romantic encounter only strengthening love's bonds. Oh yes, the dream shares were an added delight, but there was more. Conjugal interludes no longer satisfied merely the flesh, but lifted the spirit to new heights, creating a sweet longing to be again with old lovers.

(Author's note: _Before the Rebellion, flirtatious courtship of sorts was long practiced by the children of the Upper Realms. Sweet interludes of intimate romance were often preceded by rather lengthy intrigues where a couple might spend weeks or possibly months and longer in a romancing ritual. A coy glance might be followed by quiet conversation, later the holding of hands while taking a carefree walk along a flowered lane. Gradually, usually by the suggestive invitation of the woman, there would come the gentle touch and soft kiss._

In time, if the man had followed the accepted behavior of courting long established by this people, the woman might permit a sensual touch, embrace or an enticing squeeze. Of course, the man must maintain a steady stream of poetic prose filled with words of promised fealty and enduring love and devotion. Also during this period of time, the woman would play a teasing game of hard to get, or having possibly lost interest. The man would then have to double down in his endeavor to gain his prize. The woman, in turn, would play harder to get, yet seducing the man with her feminine wiles.

In time, often during one of the many festivals or at some unexpected moment, the woman would surrender the tease and give up her love to her suitor, the two promising enduring devotion to each other. After consummating their vows of devotion, the couple might escape into a lonely place to spend time alone together. Possibly eons might pass before they would reunite with civilization, often living in a monogamous relationship during that time.

This did not mean that during such a courtship either party would avoid other lovers and companions. Still, the game of 'chase and run away' was played to the full, the emotion of the heart lived to the extreme. Passion denied when at its height leads to untold, sweet frustration. But oh how wonderful when its dreams become reality!

By the time the wild men from the Lower Realms arrived, many years of rebellion had change this courting custom, love-making being a much more hurried affair than in the past. This was only exacerbated by the anxious disposition of the children from the Realms Below. Those men made love aggressively and with a passion rarely experienced by the women from the Upper Realms. As gossip spread in regards to their manly prowess, curious intrigue grew among the female host to the point of the men being searched out, the doe chasing the buck so to speak.

_There were few of those men entered this Upper World in the days before the King's War. The few who had arrived were well known and highly sought after by the curious and wanting women in that land. So it was the night Apollonius arrived back in Palace City that flirtatious eyes followed the fellow as he made his way among the people in the crowded tavern._ )

With those thoughts on his mind, Apollonius searched the tavern in aching anticipation with hope of seeing SuanTorrie flitting about the room. As his eyes probed the shadowy corners and distant crannies, he spied an old acquaintance sitting alone in a tiny booth, the fellow's dining companions just departing. Hurrying over to grab a seat before another weary huntsman could claim it, he shouted to his friend while waving his hellos.

In a moment Apollonius had slid up on the bench across from his old friend. The booth was tiny, barely enough room for two. Yet tonight most of the small booths along this wall were packed with four, and some with a chair added at the end with an additional one or two seated on it. Apollonius was very pleased to find just him and his friend occupying this cozy spot.

It was not that Apollonius disliked crowds. Quite to the contrary, the fellow was a good-natured, jovial man, always ready for a party or some lighthearted jousting. He entertained life to the full with a boisterous exuberance rarely found among the people of this realm. Quite unexpectedly, this untamed energy attracted the people of the Children's Empire to the man, especially the women. By the standards of Apollonius' younger days, the fellow would have been called a 'ladies' man'.

Normally, Apollonius reveled in the merriment such attention delivered upon him, and the game of romance was one of his favorite sports during carefree hours, but this night was different. He had just returned from the jungles of EthoHule, having spent a year and some months alone in that tropical wilderness, and he was eager to catch up on the latest news - not getting it from the general populace, though. Their perspective was always gauged by their long lives, which often led to them overlooking matters of immediate interest as being trivial and of little importance.

Spying a friend and former acquaintance from the Second Realm delighted Apollonius. Although being his opposite in nature, a rather glum, self-deprecating, guilt-ridden man, he was well liked by those who knew him, and he was a good listener. Good listeners, unlike Apollonius, who was a good yarn spinner or talker, were apt to be filled with newsworthy accounts. All one needed do was prime the pump so to speak, and the news would come bubbling forth. At least that was Apollonius' experience, if he was doing the priming.

As Apollonius settled in his seat, the man looked up from his mug of hot, spiced rum tea, smiling a hello. Before the man could speak, Apollonius reached out, grasping the man's wrist, the man doing the same to Apollonius, squeezing it with a shake. "It's good to see you again, my friend! I've come to this place for some hearty food and drink. To my delight, I have been told my sweetheart, Suan, is here, and now I find that you, too - my favorite acquaintance - are present also. What good fortune!"

The man thanked Apollonius for his kind salutation, and then went about asking him regarding his own welfare and of his adventures in the southern jungles.

A tale rich in humor and intrigue rolled off Apollonius' lips. For five minutes, he spun a yarn as good to tell as might be. After describing some of the strange plants he had discovered, his delivering them to the city's botanical gardens, the lack of rooming to be found so that he dropped off his gear at Symeon's apartment, commenting, "the fellow is always so accommodating, even when he's not there", he focused his attention on goings on in Palace City.

"So as I wandered through the crowded streets, I pondered what things were all about. I found that the entire city is abuzz with news regarding the recent prisoner exchange. There were some wild stories, I tell you, mad men and mayhem just to begin with. Then there was the new field marshal who tore the place up a bit, or so I was told. Now there's gossip of living Swords and monsters risen from the depths and all, so very exciting but also confusing. Sounds sort of bewildering to me."

The man agreed with Apollonius' assessment then asked him a very peculiar question that appeared to play no part in the current conversation. "My friend, your name, 'Apollonius Parrhesia Tharreo', how did you come by it?"

Apollonius was taken aback. After thinking about it a moment, he answered, "'Apollonius, the younger miller' is my birth name, my grandfather being also named Apollonius, and Miller the family occupational name. Parrhesia Tharreo I acquired after falling in with that notorious villain, PaulNomikos. I hear he's lately given up on his friends and can be found hanging around with the people's new king and all." Both men laughed, casting about a few lighthearted aspersions regarding the fellow.

Apollonius continued, "Parrhesia Tharreo means 'the destroyer with daring speech' or something like that. Although Parrhesia became my formal, official name, it never really caught on, the shortened version of my birthing name clinging to me for the remainder of my days. 'Apollos' was the name I was called by, remembered by. Only the people in this world bother to call me 'Apollonius', 'ApolloniusParrhesia' as often as not. Why do you ask?"

The man paused, silently nodding as he peered down at his cup. Sadness grew on his face as he looked up, asking, "Do you remember that day at the inn, at Troas, when I first met you?"

Apollonius laughed, wide-eyed, "Remember? How could I forget! There we were, my traveling companions and I about ready to be skewered by a pack of half-drunk ruffians with knives, all shouting how great Artemis was. Then you walked in, all dandified in that official uniform of yours, accompanied by the finest dressed group of gentlemen soldiers such as I ever saw, 'cept in a palace or something. When I saw you, I figured we had just gone from a quick, bloody death to a nice, slow, torturous one, maybe with a few months of starving in a prison hole first to spice things up a bit.

"Then to the biggest surprise of my life, after dragging us out of there, all the while hurling curses and threats at us, you released us outside of town, telling us to take our leave of the district by the north road, warning us not to return. You puzzled me greatly, never did explain why."

The man pointed an accusing finger, "You cost me dearly that day! There were eight of us. We were in a hurry, on king's business, and had but a few minutes to catch a bite or we would be late. Instead, I found you troubling the place and had to make a quick arrest. By all rights, I should have taken you along with us. Nice reward and all for the likes of you, but as you know, I didn't. That good deed cost me a week's wages to buy the silence of the others with me!"

Apollonius leaned back, astonished, laughing, "So should I buy your dinner this eve, as partial payment for your good deed? It would please me to do so. Let me start it off with a drink of Jem's finest ale."

The man thanked him for the offer, accepting the drink, having already supped. At that moment, Suan arrived with a large mug of malted brew. After proper salutations accompanied by a tender embrace or two and several passionate kisses, Suan hurried away, soon to return with a pitcher of that same ale for the table and a mug for the man. She left quickly, promising to return with Apollonius' dinner.

While they waited, the man asked, "You say you wondered about my reasons for releasing you and the others that day, but never asked me. Would you like to know the reason I set you free? It may well surprise you."

Curious, Apollonius leaned forward. "Please, tell me, my friend. This is far too old a riddle to leave remain hidden any longer."

It was the man's turn to lean forward, replying in nearly a whisper, "It was your name..."

"My name?" Apollonius gasped, surprised. "Never in my life did I, would I have guessed that my name was the culprit. I always figured it was some sort of divine will, you know, godly intervention and all. I was good for thinking that back in those days, God's fingers playing some prophetic symphony, weaving a profound tapestry in the heavens. It was rather bold of me to dismiss events like that as providence, that I had some greater calling to yet answer to."

The man smiled, "You were some kind of a fanatic in those days, still were when we came to know each other in later years."

Slapping the man on the shoulder, Apollonius exclaimed, "It's an easy matter to start believing that God is tinkering with your life when you get all religious and sincere, failing to see the bigger picture. We were all children regarding the true reality in those days, walking blindly on a road of prejudicial faith. Who among our kind could have ever believed that war and death were being played out here, the place to which we all aspired?"

Clasping his hands together while resting elbows on the table, he asked, "Why my name? Why? What was so special about it?"

The man quietly laughed in a sardonic sort of way, "You? Do you think you lived under a rug in those days? Paul and Symeon, they were well known lunatics, leaders over the unlettered and foolish. We paid them little heed, seeing them as power-hungry rabble rousers and seditionists. You, on the other hand, were to be taken seriously, possibly feared."

He sat back, taking a sip of ale, frowning, "Rumors were a rife about your Lord's confession that he was from a world above the stars, that he was going to return there and later would come back with his army to bring justice upon those opposing him. Oh yes, we never talked openly about such tales, but the gossip ever flowed in the whispering shadows. I was not taken to such stories as were told by old men and faint-hearted women, that is until news came to me about you."

After sipping another drink, he continued, "Apollos... Apollos... Were you come as the handsome, carefree god to spread happiness and mirth, or were you the Destroyer come to cast down any and all who opposed you? Or were you just a man born of flesh as the rest of us? I was troubled over such things, but even more so when my wife returned from a visit to her relatives in Miletus."

Apollonius bent forward, setting down his mug while resting his hands flat on the table, curious. "Yes?"

The man continued, "My wife and her sister found themselves in the marketplace the very morning you took to the pedestal and began proclaiming the tales of gods and demons, of spirit wars, and how one of the gods had taken on human flesh and was now returned to the heavens, seated upon a golden throne. She said you spoke so forcefully and were filled with such conviction that the soldiers come to arrest you stood back in fear and awe at what they witnessed. She knew not whether you, yourself, were a god or not, but advised me to tread lightly should my path cross yours.

"I scoffed at the idea you might be a god, but on the inside I wondered. My mother was devout in the extreme, telling me when I was but a child that the gods would come down from the skies to test men out."

Gripping his mug with both hands, the man slowly twirled its contents as he revealed more of his tale. "My dear wife's untimely death made me as godless as may be, that is until that day we finally met at the tavern. While I stood there eyeing you, her haunting warnings concerning the gods tingled my ears as if she stood there beside me. Unnerved I was, to say the least. So, you see, it was an easy matter to release you once we were away."

Apollonius sat back, slowly shaking his head in wonder. "Well, well, that is certainly a tale to be told."

Suan arrived with a delicious mutton stew, dark rye bread and some superb aged goat cheese. She lingered a little longer in sweet, flirtatious conversation, playing her fingers along Apollonius' arm while cooing amorous refrains. Impatient customers at a nearby table interrupted the moment.

Placing a loving hand on his shoulder, Suan kissed Apollonius and then whispered in his ear, "I'm off in less than an hour. I'll be waiting behind the fountain in the Winter Gardens. Please don't keep this child lingering for want of a gentle touch or she might be stolen away in another man's arms." She winked at the man sitting with Apollonius and hurried away.

Blushing, he stared up at Apollonius, apologizing, claiming that he did not know the woman at all, and had no intentions regarding her.

Apollonius laughed, motioning the man away with his hand, "No need to say a word. I'm sure my little darling there has been wrapped up in many an arm since I left several months ago." He chanced a longing glance at Suan as she waited another table. "She is a looker though, isn't she?"

The man smiled, agreeing, "The woman is very comely, that is true." He studied Suan a while and then mused, "She reminds me of Sirion, my former mentor, but a little taller and more fleshed out. Sirion was a wiry little one, tough and wiry, but big br... Well, you know what I mean."

Apollonius was curiously amused. "You were never a man bashful in describing the beauty of a woman. What's up? Is it concerning Sirion?"

The man lowered his head, answering sadly, "Yes. It bothers me when I think about her."

"Why?" Apollonius asked, perplexed. "The girl's safe, been rescued, and is on her way here, coming with the king and all. They say you've been a real faithful steward for her while she was away, went to the Silent Tombs every day in her stead. Sirion will be so pleased to hear that. You should be celebrating instead of moping about like this."

The man smiled grimly, "I am looking forward to seeing her again. That's not why I trouble over her. Report has come to me of the horrific torture done to the girl. Even now, she barely hangs on to life, that fellow, Eutychus, staying constantly by her side to tend to her needs, singing healing songs to her. What a terrible ordeal to suffer through. And to think..."

Apollonius peered into distraught eyes. "And to think what, my friend?"

The man hesitated. "And... and to think I was no less an evil bastard at one time. Violent rape - young virgins, children, it mattered little. It was all part of a game to me back then, seems like only yesterday. I cleaved many a breast off the outlander women during my soldiering years, especially those giving suck, selling the skins to the tanner for drink money. The slave or prostitute occasionally fell to the same fate, often just for the sport of it."

He sighed, staring at the table, "When I think of the evil done to Sirion, I ponder the retched violence I've committed against so many innocents. I've wondered why I live here, in this place let alone live."

Apollonius set down his spoon, resting a hand over his friend's. "You are as close as a brother to me, have been for a long time. It troubles my spirit to see you in anguish over what lies buried in the past. Better to leave it rest there until the day it can be fixed. You're here because Lowenah wants you here. Trust me, there have been others also delivered to this place that have even greater bragging rights to evil done. Lowenah sees things differently than we do. We have to trust her. Keeps it close, she does...likes to be secretive about her purposes."

Suan came by with a tray of drinks for some newly arrived guests. She glanced over at Apollonius' half-finished food, frowning. The man suggested Apollonius be about his meal or he might find an empty nest when he went calling. While he ate, the man returned to their earlier conversation.

"Please, I have not asked you about your name nor have I spun a tale from yesteryears to only tickle your ears. Look, I feared you might be one of the gods come to test us out and, when we were reunited long after, it took a powerful lot of convincing on your part before I accepted you to be only a man of flesh such as I am."

He folded his arms, resting them on the table. "You I gave honor and glory to, maybe out of fear, but honor I still gave. But to the one my mother venerated to a fault, Diana, I gave neither, only insult and death!"

Apollonius raised his spoon to speak, his mouth filled with food. The man motioned him to continue eating. "My grandmother told me all these wonderful stories about Diana to the point that, as a little child, I would dream of being on the hunt with the goddess. I often talked with Grandmother about her, saying how much I wished to meet the goddess one day. Grandmother said it was possible, for the gods would come to Earth at times and live in the flesh as humans.

"Well, as you know, my wish did come true, or at least as far as I am concerned it did. Oh, and she was everything a goddess should be, too. My friend, dear Apollonius, even after all your efforts to convince me otherwise, I never did come to completely stop believing that Ishtar was a goddess. I still feel that way."

Apollonius swallowed a mouthful of stew, replying, "Many are the times we have discussed this. Ishtar was young, a child. There was a purpose for what happened, and you only played a part in it. If not you, it would have been someone else. She'll return someday, and then things will be set right with her."

The man agreed, and then replied in a nervous hush, "So it has been as I have believed that someday I could make things right with Ishtar - someday when she was all happy and snuggled up with a strong man beside her and a little one nestled up to her breast."

He frowned, pushing his half-full mug to the side, leaning forward. "But, oh the dread of it! Such a pleasant fate the girl shall never have or I the time for her to revel in blissful refreshment. The dreadful moment is already upon me, and I don't know at all what to do about it!"

Apollonius dropped his spoon, it falling with a clatter, asking excitedly, "You mean the girl is to come here, into this world, I mean?"

"Do you not know a thing?" the man anxiously exclaimed.

Vehemently shaking his head, Apollonius denied any knowledge at all about Ishtar. "I have been deep in the jungles of EthoHule these many months, only arriving here this very day. After leaving my things at Symeon's place, I joined myself to old books at the library, studying up on bugs until coming here. I've heard nothing at all."

"Ishtar awoke several days ago," the man explained, "right here, not far from Palace City! Symeon and Hanna are out there now with the child. They say she's the last of the ones to come until this Rebellion is settled up here."

Apollonius let out, "Phew! Ishtar here? She's so young. Do you know what this is about?"

The man apologized, "I didn't know you were in the dark about this. At the last council meeting, when Mihai was introduced as king, she got up and talked about three swords, saying two were here and one was soon to arrive. Then that Trisha person, the same one that did all the mischief at the prisoner exchange, got up and made a whole bunch of prophecies. The gossip about it got the whole city in a tizzy. Then, after the meeting, Lowenah told Symeon that the girl, Ishtar, was arrived, and they say Sirion uttered a warning to Legion about something from his past having waked."

Apollonius interjected a question. "So you think that Ishtar might be a sword of some kind or that she could be the creature having waked?"

Not knowing, the man answered, "Rumor and gossip is all I've heard regarding the matter. I did speak with Symeon, but that was right after the council meeting. He was so excited to have his girl back. I could get little more out of him other than he and Hannah were to assist Ishtar with her new surroundings. You know how difficult that can be, even for us older ones."

Apollonius grinned, "So when the child gets adjusted to her new life, which should consume several months, she will be more receptive to you. Symeon can break it to her that you're here and eventually set up a meeting. You and she will be able to patch things up just fine."

"No, that won't do!" the man moaned in despair. "Ishtar and I are fated to cross paths soon. Exactly when or why, I don't know, but it will come, can't stop it. Just the thought of it has troubled my sleep ever since I found out."

"What?" Apollonius nearly cried, "You and Ishtar? You sure?"

The man nodded sadly, "That's not all. Found out that was a reason for me being delivered here, into this realm."

Apollonius could hardly contain himself. "Whoa, that's the biggest news I've heard in some time! How do you know? Symeon? Hannah?"

"No," the man replied in a subdued hush, staring down at the table, "I don't think they know about her and me, 'least not the part I'm speaking about."

He looked up at Apollonius, distressed, "I doubt Symeon would be pleased...will be pleased when he finds out. Still holds a grudge, I believe, over what happened in the past. I never did make it right with him back then, never got to explain things to him before he was later imprisoned and executed."

As he slowly tapped his fingers on the table, the man explained, "Paul introduced us after I arrived here, not telling him the role I played in Ishtar's death. He hoped that getting to know me first would help mend things up concerning what happened back then. Told me to remain silent about matters. Symeon warmed up to me quickly, and we became close, good friends. Hannah gave the store away, not intentionally, or out of spite. She's a real sweetheart, you know."

Apollonius agreed.

"Symeon took it well, I guess. Still treated me fine, 'cept I could see in his eyes the hurt over what I did to his little girl. He tries to forgive, but I don't think he can quite forget. That was why I was so hopeful when told that the girl was coming here. I figured that once the two were reunited, after a while Symeon could finally forget and maybe take me back as his friend again."

Apollonius nodded his understanding, asking, curious, "Then how did you find out? Paul? Maybe Mihai?"

"No. No." the man answered uncomfortably. He glanced about the room as if searching for a friendly face, finally whispering, "Lowenah..."

"What?" Apollonius nearly shouted.

Some people at a nearly table turned to stare. Apollonius smiled sheepishly, lifting his mug. "Good ale for a thirsty soul."

The people agreed, shrugging while looking at each other, and were soon back in deep conversation.

After taking a swig of the ale, and smacking his lips rather loudly, Apollonius leaned forward until his face was only inches away from his friend. Forcing down his excitement, he asked anxiously in a hush, "Lowenah?"

The man nodded in acknowledgment.

His ears all a' tingle, Apollonius asked, "When?"

"You already know where I went in the evening times while Sirion's been held captive these many long weeks," the man quietly answered, "seeing that for as busy as you say you were after having returned, someone managed to get your ear about me going to the Silent Tombs and why, I'll go right into it.

"It was the night before departure of those going to the prisoner exchange that I happened to be about my duties for Sirion in the Silent Tombs, just having finished my little night song at Periste's grave. As I slowly strode up the draw, deep in thought about Sirion and all the things that had happened to me since I got here, I spied Lowenah walking down the path toward me."

The man put a hand to his heart. "I became nervous, maybe at seeing her. Oh yes, I've been in her company in the past - you know, the cordial welcome to this place and pleasant chit-chat conversation and all, when a person is soon arrived, and once or twice more at some public event or other. It might not bother some to see her and talk with her, but for me it is terrifying...beautifully, intoxicatingly terrifying..."

He mused, "More beautiful than a drug-induced dream she is. And then to think she's God? Scares me to death to have the feelings that come up inside me at seeing her all naked and stuff...you know?"

Apollonius grinned, agreeing, "I've been told she does it on purpose with the newcomers. Likes it when the men... and the women, too, I suppose get all heated up in a passion over her. Then she plays the game in their head as being untouchable, at least for the moment. Says to them in whispering thought, 'some day, my lovely one, some day we'll sing Love's songs.' Then she sends a calming breeze across the excited heart to ease the emotions. I've been told there's a real purpose behind what Lowenah does, but that's a discussion for another day."

The man continued, "So...well, I got really nervous when she motioned to me and picked up her pace, stopping up close. Reaching out, she took my hand and, in the most charming of voices I've heard, asked me to walk with her. I about swallowed my tongue trying to make some kindly reply. Lowenah just laughed and began to chatter away about little, unimportant things. Then she got me to talking about myself, Sirion, this place, and on and on, until I was prattling on about any little thing at all."

He motioned for Apollonius to keep eating. "Anyway, Lowenah managed to put me in a comfortable mood, acting so innocent and casual, sort 'a like she had just happened out for a walk that evening, and came by chance upon me. Got me good, she did, real good..."

Talking through a mouthful of food, Apollonius agreed, shaking his spoon as he replied, "Yep, she's good for that. A real trickster she is, always playing games with your mind."

"Sure did with me..." the man replied, "as tricksy as may be. Made me feel so comfortable, I didn't see at all what was coming as we walked along, Lowenah holding my hand, making an occasional reply while acting so nonchalant. Then she suddenly sprung the trap and I walked right into it without even noticing. She asked me my thoughts about Ishtar's approaching arrival.

"Well, sir," he frowned, "I just came out and told her how bad I felt about Symeon... what I told you... and how I wished I could mend things up some day, make it right. You know," he grimaced, "before the last words were out of my mouth, I glanced down in time to see Lowenah's twinkling eyes go impish with mischief a'growing in them. At that instant, I heard that trap go snapping shut. Uh-oh, something was up and I had walked right into it."

"'You'd like to fix things up a bit wouldn't you, son?' she asked so innocent.

"Still playing the fool, I answered 'Yes, anything.' Fool me, I said 'anything at all!' pondering her calling me 'son'. Think of it, Lowenah, Lord of Lords called me 'son'! It screwed up my head so bad I couldn't think of what I was really saying. Anything! Fool man, I was. Sealed my fate, I did."

Apollonius agreed that such things could happen with the Maker of Worlds. He took another gulp of his ale and then asked, "So, what fate did you seal?"

The man scowled and then slowly released a resigned sigh. "Well, she just made me feel so guilty - in a sneaky way she did, all polite and innocent. You know... Well, Lowenah said that things were all in a rush and all, something about mechanical delays and all that stuff that I haven't wrapped my mind around yet. Anyway, she said the girl was being dumped, last minute-like, into this world, said how difficult it can be under such circumstances to adjust quickly and all."

He looked, hopelessly, into Apollonius' face. "She told me that someone dumped into this world so fast might have great difficulties accepting the realities of this world, might become locked into believing they were lost in dreams and nightmares. Then she asked me what I thought of that."

"What did you say?" Apollonius asked, his curiosity growing.

A visible shudder ran across the man's shoulders as he answered, "You know how I feel about the girl, always blaming myself over all that happened to her. What could I say? And Lowenah knew it, the sneak...set me up!"

Apollonius could not help but laugh, his light-heartedness regarding matters easing the man's tensions.

The man began to smile. "Yep, she set me up. I told her how much I wished that things could be different, how badly I felt about the girl." He held up a hand. "Lowenah took this in her hands, squeezing it while giving me a tender peck on the cheek. Then she told me a secret, said that one of the reasons I was delivered here was for the upcoming day when Ishtar would arrive...just in case. She said she might need me to shake the girl to her senses. She said what I might have to do was very important because time was run out, and the girl was to hit the ground a'running."

"Whoa!" Apollonius sat up straight, forgetting his meal, asking, "Lowenah told you time was run out?"

"Yep..." came a certain reply, "That's exactly what she said. She then looked into the sky as if watching or waiting for something. As she stared up at the evening star, her words echoed cold. 'Where the river crosses time and space, a witch's caldron brews. She rides upon a midnight fleece of fire, beasts and hounds. Virgin bride of the Gorgons she is, must be...'"

The man peered down at the table, confessing, "A smile crept across Lowenah's face, but I saw something in her eyes that I believed she wished I not see, for it was gone away in a flash, a dark shadow filled with uncertainty."

The man leaned back, slapping his hands on the table. "Lowenah changed the subject, speaking about some whimsical little matters, but she could tell by the look on my face that I knew something was up. Her smile melted away as she stared into my eyes, speaking in a desperate whisper, 'Only the bastard son, brood of the werewolf, has the power to defeat the hidden demons. He must not fail. You must not fail!' She then kissed me on the cheek, apologizing for thinking out loud, adding, 'But that is for another day. Not your concern, your concern at all.'"

Apollonius asked, intrigued, "What then? What did you do?"

"What could I do?" the man replied, his voice filled with growing despair. "I'd promised to stay near Palace City, being told that my friend, Drorli, would soon be about and fill me in on all the goings on."

"And that was all?" Apollonius asked, amazed. "What of Lowenah's prophecy? I've not heard her speak to another of us in such a manner."

The man puzzled, "Isn't being upside down over the part I play in helping that girl enough for a soul to bother about? Prophecy? Well, I haven't thought much about what it was. Lowenah said it wasn't my concern. So I didn't make it my concern." He pointed toward his head. "It's how I've managed to keep this on my shoulders. Not my concern..."

Apollonius was stunned silent. How hard it was to shake the world of old out of someone's life, especially when one might have been in as deep as this fellow was. Loose lips, loose head. He had survived a long time by playing it safe. Hard to forget what works.

The man added, "Lowenah and I walked along through the Tombs until the moon rose high above the hills, chit-chatting about the most carefree things. At length, we parted, she seeming to be in little hurry to go. The gloom swept over me soon after she was gone, and I've been sort 'a moping about ever since. I'm glad you arrived here tonight. At least you can understand a little bit."

Grinning, Apollonius clasped his friend's hand, "Yes, yes, I understand, but oh so much more than you may think! Of all the sages in this world, you have revealed more in this little conversation than they might in the longest speech."

"What? What have I told you?" the man asked, curious.

"Well," Apollonius looked toward the ceiling before staring into his friend's face, "let me put it this way: war is coming, and coming soon. I mean a big one, bigger and badder than any before it. And you and that girl, Ishtar, are going to be playing a real big part in it in some way. I would..."

At that instant, Apollonius chanced a glance from the corner of his eye, seeing a very impatient Suan standing by the door. He wiggled out of the booth and jumped up, saying his adieus to his friend, adding, "Mustn't dally or the ship will long have sailed, leaving this sailor alone and lonely on the shore."

The man reached out and grasped Apollonius' hand. In desperation, he asked, "My friend, what must I do? Does my wise sage have some parting advice?"

First, acknowledging to Suan that he was quickly coming, Apollonius leaned forward, the flickering flame of the table candle dancing off his glistening white teeth. "How does one prepare for the tempest?" He glanced over his shoulder at Suan. "You just make up your mind it's coming and put down your head and row. Let the storm take you where it will. It's better that way, less work, will take you longer to drown." He laughed.

Taking a step away from the table, Apollonius turned, seeing a distraught face. He stopped, raising a hand. "I will give you this little bit of advice, my friend. Cast away the old world. Grow a beard..." At that, Apollonius bounded away, catching up a pouting Suan in his arms as they hurriedly parted the company of the tavern for other adventures.

* * *

Mihai's return from the prisoner exchange to Palace City was celebrated in grand, holiday fashion, the streets converging upon the spaceport packed with jubilant merrymakers. Countless thousands pressed ever forward, seeking to add their voices to the chorus of happy throngs gathering to greet their victorious king who had bravely forced Asotos' hand into surrendering up the hostages to her. Everything had come to a standstill, everyone abandoning home, hearth and business to attend this glorious festival.

The orderly procession led by Mihai and her entourage after leaving DishonPele had quickly dissolved in the confused throng of merrymakers as the group slowly advanced toward the grand reviewing stand set up in front of the spaceport's main terminal. Crowds crushed in from every side upon their new king, jubilant voices crying out praises while hands reached out to touch even a strand of Mihai's hair or just her outer garment.

The people's new king attempted to accept the adoration as any royal personage should, but it only deepened the guilt pangs of her troubled heart. Accounts of the prisoner exchange been revealed to the people. No matter the facts or explanations offered by her and others, Mihai was the grand architect behind the well-orchestrated events that played out, leading to the greatest public humiliation of Asotos since Gabrielle's violent denunciation of him so many millennia ago. Every act of intrigue up through her field marshal's departure had been part of Mihai's detailed battle plan, and no matter her personal confessions - which she did attempt on several occasions that day - her ardent admirers would have none of it. She was the grand star, the people's shining light.

With every word of praise and every pat on the back declaring 'Well done!', Mihai sank further into despair until she broke down and wept, covering her face with her hands as tears flowed like rivers. The crowds reacted with louder and more fervent declarations of adoration. Soon the woman was being carried along by them toward the spaceport's reviewing stand where there would be hours of obligatory speeches and oration, providing a much needed festival of the soul for a people long tired of this never-ending rebellion.

(Author's note: _Other than the military with its established protocols, there was no officially organized volunteer corps in those days such as exists presently. At best, there was a loose amalgam of people who offered whatever times and energies they were willing to in assisting with maintaining Palace City's infrastructure. More as you might see at a community barn-raising, there was an air that permeated the spirit of volunteerism of that day. Whatever the mood, so would go the action. Thus, when Mihai returned to Palace City, most of the people serving in support of that metropolis, its maintenance, transportation and so forth, took their leave to join with the partying public, leading to a temporary, massive gridlock throughout the region._

_Although being little more than a minor inconvenience that day, the potential danger at more crucial times was obvious. To prevent such breakdowns during times of emergency, it was common practice for the military to take over civil operation of transportation, communication and other essentials within the people's governance. Under these circumstances, the military machine of the Children's Empire took up the role of public servant not that of a military dictatorship such as was found within the League of Brothers._ )

Gradian's Clock had chimed well past the midnight hour by the time Mihai escaped and made her way to the palace. Arriving alone, she avoided any chanced contact by taking little-used passages that delivered her to the younglings' quarters instead of the staterooms of the First Born. Spying the small bed in the corner of the darkened room, she flung herself across it and began to weep. So much the woman attempted to confess her rueful delinquencies of character and utter failure of duties, declaring that others had carried the day despite her heroic incompetence, but all to no avail. Through fitful sobs, the despondent child eventually drifted into a troubled sleep.

With the morning sun, the city began to take its ease, the partiers having tired of celebrating, many casting their exhausted bodies down wherever the mood took them. Peace was returned to the world, the lonely footsteps of the changing of the morning watch being the only sounds disturbing the early quiet.

In a small village some leagues to the east, the morning sun was rising upon a far different scene. There, in another room, a young heart was growing restless, tiring of the endless game of patience forced upon it.

Ishtar looked up from her half-eaten bowl of fruit, angrily glaring at Symeon. "Enough! You are playing folly with me. That I know. This..." she spewed as she threw the bowl on the floor, "grows nowhere near my home! The sun warms not my wall in the heat of high day. Indeed, does the sun rise at all in this darksome place, the fire and wicker lamp my only lighted companions? Oh yes, the cock crows beyond this room. Or is it but a game played in my mind? Give me answers, for my patience is frayed to the limit!"

Symeon motioned down with outstretched hands as he attempted to calm the moment. "Look, please, my little child, you were asleep many days. The healers recommend just another day or two, and you shall be up and about as good as new. Just..."

Ishtar jumped up, shouting, "I am as good as new! Better! You are not truthful with me. My mother you have not delivered here. The door is always locked after being shut behind you. Every time I request my leave, you feign excuse."

Symeon begged, "Please, just a little while longer."

"No little while longer!" Ishtar screamed, charging Symeon. "Outta my way!"

Symeon reached out, attempting to block the girl's advance. Ishtar slammed up against him, her eyes bulging in surprise when Symeon's resistance stopped her up short. Wild-eyed, the girl backed up, hands high as if preparing for combat. She squinted, suspicion echoing on her tongue, "An old man I see but with the strength of a stallion. Have the healers also cured you of your joint pain that has so long crippled you?"

Excitedly motioning Ishtar to stand back, Symeon tried to calm the child. "Only a day! A day! I promise. Only a day..."

Hearing a commotion in the other room, Hannah opened the door to see what was happening. "Hello," the woman called out cheerfully as she swung the door wide.

Symeon glanced over his shoulder at hearing the door creaking upon its hinges. Ishtar wasted no time, taking advantage of the distraction. Plunging forward, she shoved her uncle aside and dove for the doorway, piling into Hannah and slamming her back against the doorpost.

Hanna grimaced in pain from the hit, but kept her wits about her, preventing the girl from escaping. A struggle ensued. Ishtar was not going down easily, and Hanna refused to surrender to the onslaught. Determined to get away at all costs, the child held nothing back, clawing, slapping and punching her attempted way to freedom. Hanna took it all - a bruised rib, bleeding lip, and other minor injuries - holding back in her defense for fear of harming Ishtar. She planted herself firmly across the doorway as the girl continued to pummel her with fists and screaming abuses.

In desperation, Ishtar grabbed hold of Hanna's upper garment and yanked backward, throwing Hanna off balance. As the woman stumbled forward, reaching for the door to keep from falling, the garment tore from her shoulders, ripping one of the prosthetic breasts away in the process. Catching herself up by clutching the door handle, Hanna looked into a shocked face of a young girl seeing for the first time the woman's youthful beauty.

Ishtar might have been shocked by what she saw, but not frozen into inactivity. Seeing an opened doorway, the girl charged past Hanna and bolted into the adjacent room, only to be stopped up short at seeing a half-naked man sitting at a table with bright, blazing fires of every color on it and upon the wall in front of him. Screaming, terrified, Ishtar lunged for a knife lying on a table in another corner of the room.

Holding it high, she threatened, "Get outta my way or I'll stick ya!"

The man threw his hands up, smiling, as he nodded toward the further door, "No harm, Missy, no harm..." He shot a warning glance back at the other doorway for Hanna and Symeon not to interfere. Ishtar did not hesitate. In a heartbeat, she was out the door and away.

In a flash, Symeon was across the room, Drorli stopping him. "Let her go, my friend. She's not the first to take that path."

Watching helplessly as his child disappeared into the thickets across the street, Symeon cried out after her, "No, Honey, please come back!"

Taking him by the arm, Drorli led Symeon back to the small table that Ishtar had stolen the knife from. "Sit, my friend. The girl's fine. Gives her a chance to stretch her legs a bit..."

Symeon whined, "She will get lost, maybe hurt, or possibly hurt others."

"Come now," Drorli patted Symeon on the shoulder, "she may become lost, already is, but we won't lose her, not with all the preparations we've made."

Hanna stepped into the room and over to a mirror on the wall. Examining a swollen bruise and cut lip, she mused, "Feisty one she is! Hadn't seen that coming..." Then pulling her upper garment off, she began removing the remainder of the prosthetics. "At least I won't be saddled with these anymore. Ugly and old I once was and never again do I wish to be! I like the new me, or should I say the young me, like the way I look and the way others like the way I look." She chanced a flirting glance at both Symeon and Drorli.

Symeon's fear for Ishtar still flooded his mind, thinking of nothing else. Hanna looked up at him while tugging at a sticky piece of the prosthetic, reminding him of the earlier precautions taken. "She's fine, Dear. Eurawha explained all the preparations that were made for your child, expecting her to be a pill."

"She's no pill!" Symeon cried, then confessed he wasn't sure what a pill was.

Hanna ignored him. "Eurawha has informed us both that the entire district is prepared, designed for newcomers. I'm sure that everyone concerned is or will be notified of the girl's escape. Then there are all the hidden machines in yonder fields and forests that will be watching and listening for her."

She placed a finger on the back of her lower skull. "And don't forget the little... little..."

"Chip..." Drorli volunteered.

Smiling, Hanna thanked him. "Little chip that was inserted under Ishtar's skin. Everything will be fine."

Symeon continued to complain, picking up on blaming himself for the girl's escape.

Drorli laughed, stopping him. "Come now, friend, as I said, she's not the first of your kind to have made tracks across the stream and into the distant hills. It's not your fault. Truth be said, little hope we had that you could carry it off with the girl. She's a smart one, snoopy and suspicious. That's her nature. I've studied her makeup and history."

He patted Symeon on the back. "The village is deserted, just the three of us here at present. Besides tracking systems such as those machines there are doing at this moment," he pointed toward the viewing screen on the wall, "we have all sorts of things we can do to keep your girl away from danger - sights and sounds that will keep her where we want her."

He pointed toward the opened doorway. "There are strange and wonderful animals living in those woods which just may give our girl the willies, but they are totally harmless, I assure you. Ishtar will be fine."

Walking over and closing the door, Drorli invited Symeon and Hanna to take a 'look see' at exactly what their recent charge was doing. As they watched her on the viewing screen, he offered, "We'll give her a day or so to get settled down a bit. A few nights alone in the wild might make her a little more willing to accept that we intend her no harm."

Ishtar flung herself down in the tall grasses at the edge of the field near the woods, her aching lungs and pounding heart refusing to carry her further. As she regained her breath, the aching in her bruised and bleeding feet began a throbbing that almost made her cry. The girl's panicked flight across the rocky streambed had gone unnoticed until now. Sitting, she frantically looked back toward the distant village, half-expecting to see a horde of soldiers chasing across the field in search of her.

Sighing in relief at seeing no one, she rested back on her elbows until her breathing eased. At length, Ishtar got up on her feet and limped off into the woods. It appeared to be late in the day. If she could make it far enough into the forest, there was a good chance of escape, but to where? Such an issue was not currently her concern. First, get away, and then she would worry about where she was and how she might escape and return home.

Get away she did. Late night found her huddled under an ancient oak deep in the woodland, a drizzling rain soaking her. Already, Ishtar was chiding herself for acting so foolishly - not for running away, but for not planning her escape. Remembering the bowl of tumbled fruit she had thrown upon the floor only increased the girl's hunger, and her bruised feet made her long for the slippers sitting at the foot of the tiny bed...and the fire... and the warm milk... and the pretty little things tucked about her cozy room.

"Oh shut up, you!" she cried, and then began again mumbling aloud over her present dilemma. "Stupid thing, running away with nothing but a long blouse! No food, nothing..." She rubbed her feet to ease the cramping pain.

Looking out from under the low-hanging boughs of the giant tree into the deep forest's shadows, Ishtar thought about the morrow and what it might bring. Where was she, how far from home? Yes, home...which direction was it, and would it be safe to go back there? After all, she must have been taken from her home, but by whom and why?

Too many questions at least for the moment, too many questions for this lost, lonely child. Tomorrow, yes tomorrow was a good time to search for those answers. The girl leaned back against the tree's gnarly trunk, closing her eyes, tears flowing. Gradually the night passed into fitful dreams, catching the girl up in worlds lost between fantasy and reality. Little did she remember other than her mother's gentle voice calling her for a breakfast of sweet cakes and honey.

Shivering awake in the early morning chill, it took a while for Ishtar to gather her wits about her, forgetting for the moment the previous day's adventures. Staring dumbly into a ghostly mist as it slowly twirled up through the shimmering sunlight, the girl slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was wet, cold, hungry, and ached from head to foot, but especially in her feet. Looking down at them, she let out a gasp at seeing two swollen stumps with ten purplish toes sticking awkwardly out from them.

The girl began to cry remorsefully over her previous actions. Maybe the people holding her captive had meant her no harm. After all, they had crafted her former world in great detail to fool her into believing she was still in her little room and that Hanna and her uncle were tending to her needs. The thought of such a ruse was troublingly curious. Why? Why go such extremes? Never was such a thing heard of before. Oh, yes, deceit and treachery were common tales told by her father as the family sat about the dining table, but nothing like the things Ishtar was experiencing.

Her cries were soon replaced by indignant howls of angry frustration. If she was such an important prize, why had the guards not already come to recapture her? What fools governed this place? A one-legged sailor drunked up on new wine could have managed an escaped from the prison she was in. With that, she began shouting out insults and derision against her former captors, the girl's vernacular far more fitting to be heard on the deck of a ship in a following sea than from the pious lips of a person such as her uncle.

Eventually, Ishtar's boisterous rants weakened into heartfelt mutterings, and finally deteriorated into quiet mumbles until the girl gave up and began a gloomy, silent pout, wrapping herself in folded arms while sitting cross-legged in the damp grasses.

Well, she would show them! When they finally came in search of her, nothing but a shriveled carcass of a starved and bloodied prize would they discover! The very thought of such a happening made the girl smile, that is until she heard strange noises coming from the deep woods to her left.

Ishtar's eyes popped open as her ears strained, listening. Then she heard the noise again - a screechy chatter the likes of which sent chills up her spine. Could it be the little beasts her father had once spoken about, short-armed, fiery little dragons that ran about on two long legs that he said screeched like giant trees mourning in distress? 'They'll sneak up on you unawares and strip the living flesh off you with their sharp teeth afore you know they are even there!' he had told her as they sat about the hearth fire. Stories like that and even greater dangers the outside world harbored flooded the girl's mind.

Forgetting her death wish, Ishtar jumped to her feet and began a hasty retreat away from the dark, foreboding woods on a path taking her back in the direction of the little village she had earlier escaped from. As she made her way westward, the woods began to thin a bit until she found her trail opening into small clearings, some of them filled with spiny bushes brimming with luscious, sweet fruits bursting with their rich, summer ripeness. The temptation soon became too great for the child, the fruit too generously offering itself up to her reach. In little time, the delicious taste of mouthfuls of scrumptious delights filling a hungry belly cast a forgetful shadow over the earlier eerie forest sounds.

With a full stomach and a warm, late morning breeze wafting under a bright, blue sky, any lonely trepidation Ishtar might have previously felt drifted away on the dreamy day. Emboldened with renewed curiosity, the girl determined to explore this new and strange world in hopes of discovering where she might be. After all, she could not be many miles from home, could she? A journey of two or three days would well take her into unfamiliar lands. The child had never traveled far from her home except along the broadways leading to nearby cities. So off she went at a casual pace, always alert to finding other tasty delights growing along the path.

After passing through an exceptionally thick grove of young basswood and aspen, the girl came to a tiny glade of tall grasses that opened downward toward the west, giving her a glimpse of distant hills and valleys lying further off in that direction. The rich greenery of forests cut with a patchwork of small meadows and fields was truly beautiful, filling her eyes with wonder and concern. Nowhere in her world did she remember such blue-green, rich hues nor was the land so heavily forested as here. It was said there were countless olive groves and fields for cattle far to the north of Ephesus, but no olive groves did she see here.

At that instant, a movement in the distant sky caught her eye. A covey of birds far away appeared over the horizon, and large birds they must be, too. As the girl watched the birds, she could not help but wonder what kind they must be. Suddenly she let out a cry of frightful dread, shrinking back into the shadows of nearby trees. What kind of birds were these creatures without wings or heads that could be seen?

Her heart pounding in fright, Ishtar recalled a tale her father told long ago. Fanciful though it might be, it appeared to be far less so now. Waving his hands about, his face grave, he exclaimed, 'I was standing upon the southern bridge tower, observing the workers at the far end of the bridge, when two shining, wingless birds - or what I thought to be birds, but later came to believe were machinations of an evil wizard - swooped out of the distant clouds and down upon a band of soldiers marching along the road leading toward the bridge we were repairing.

'Suddenly, fire shot out from the mouths of the flying beasts, consuming the entire band of marching men! As I stood there stunned, in horror, the beasts turned and, approaching the bridge tower across the river from me, rained fire and ruin down upon it, causing that tower and main causeway of the bridge to collapse in smoke and rubble, casting several of my work crew into the foaming chasm below. Then, as quickly as the terrifying, flying beasts appeared, they were gone, making no sound at all in their departure.'

The wingless birds or inventions of some wizard Ishtar was observing finally drifted from sight off to the south. Taking no chances, the terrified girl remained hidden beneath the trees until the sun had moved high into the sky and begun its slow journey toward the west. Several more times, Ishtar witnessed such strange flying beasts, her fear of them gradually diminishing as the day wore on. Whatever those things might be, they appeared to have no interest in her. None approached or drew close, but continued whatever journey they were on. In time, the girl paid little more attention to their presence other than to gingerly stepping into the shade of a nearby tree to await their departure.

As early afternoon lazily advanced toward the evening hour, the girl continued her wandering stroll on toward the west, first following a glen down into a shady valley and then up across a low ridge and down into another draw, eventually coming to a low, wooded rise that overlooked the tiny village from which she had earlier escaped. Crouching down until finally crawling on hands and knees, the girl stealthily slipped down the rise, stopping at the edge of the woods.

Peeking out from behind a thorny hedge of nettles and briers, Ishtar carefully studied her former prison some two furlongs' distance. Very strange it was. Everything about it was strange. Still high enough up the rise, she could see over the thickets at the stream to have a clear view of the streets and buildings comprising this little town...such a town as this girl had never imagined existed.

The streets were paved with smooth, flat flagstones. That she knew from not only seeing them from this vantage point, but because of remembering well the cool feel of the stones as she darted across them the day before. The buildings, though, were entirely another matter. Simple in design they were, too simple in fact. Most had dull, matted sides bereft of window or shutter. Here and there was a door or, in some cases, huge rectangular, barred gates, dark and also windowless. Three carriages, or what looked possibly to be carriages were parked alongside the roadway, but there were no animals standing about, nor people for that matter.

As time passed, Ishtar became more perplexed at seeing no one. Oh, yes, twice the shirtless man made an appearance in the doorway, always looking up the street, but never once did his searching eyes wander in her direction. In time, the girl tired of the adventure. Leaning back on her elbows, she stared up at the sun as the breeze lavished its gentle warmth upon bare face and arms. Soon she was laid back, snuggled up in the downy grasses. It was not long before tired eyes closed and a quiet snooze ensued.

Ishtar awoke with a start. Something had roused her, a noise maybe. She glanced into the sky, the lazy sun hanging high in the western blue haze. What time might it be? How long had the girl slept? Again there was that noise, a rumbling _pop, pop_ , _popping_ something the likes a copper lid makes over a boiling pot, but it was far away, echoing across the valley from beyond the village.

The wide-eyed child sat up and peeked over the hedge to see what the commotion was all about. At first she saw nothing, then caught sight of movement on the road west of the village. One, then two, then three carriages could be seen rapidly approaching at a terrifying pace. The one far out in the lead was making the noise that awoke her. How curious for she could see that at times little puffs of brown, sooty smoke would rise in a swirl from behind it.

Maybe there was a chase going on, the two carriages behind shooting flaming darts at the carriage in front, catching it ablaze. The girl watched in amazement as the wagons hurtled down the road at their maddening pace. When the first carriage careened around a sharp bend in the highway, Ishtar gasped, realizing for the first time the rampaging carriage was absent its horses! She stared up the road at the pursuing carriages and saw that they, too, were without any beasts in harness.

Then suddenly, clasping hands over her heart, the girl cried out in terror, "No wheels! No wheels! Angels of death they are! Angels of death! Oh God! Oh God, save your child from this wicked fate!" Clutching her head while covering her ears so as to no longer hear the dreadful noise, Ishtar sprang to her feet and ran, screaming, up the hill and over the rise, not stopping until she was hidden deep in the eastern wood.

Drorli hurried down a well worn path, a wide smile of greeting on his face. Approaching the noisy machine, he shouted, "My friend Jebbson, so good to see you again! I've heard tales of your adventures at the prisoner exchange, but doubted them to be true. 'Not that old scholarly book worm, hopeless romantic and poet of dreams.' said I," a wisp of burnt oil tingling his senses as he sucked in a breath. "What deviltry did you deliver upon us this day? Awfullest stink I've smelled in the longest time!"

Jebbson bent forward and pushed a lever near the steering wheel, making the machine grudgingly wheeze into silence. Removing his goggles, a grimy-faced Jebbson grinned, "Always wondering what I'm about, you are. Snoopy, to say the least..."

He jumped down from the opened cabin, grasping Drorli's hand and then motioning back over his shoulder, "Have the assembly line running hot over at Oros. Up to two hundred trucks a day coming out those doors. Hope to have it up to five hundred a day soon. I brought my new prototype along for you to have a look-see."

Drorli examined the machine closely, asking, "What's it do, scare the enemy to death?"

Both men laughing, Jebbson explained, "This is just a platform for testing out my new engine system. What's coming off the line right now are petrol burners...good machines but in need of refined fuel. We've got a war comin' that's gonna stretch across this universe, and clean, refined fuel might be a little hard to come by, especially if it has to be hauled across star systems to get it there."

Rubbing his bearded chin, Drorli studied the machine's engine, Jebbson lifting the cover for him to get a better look. As he did, Jebbson filled him in on some of the details. "I've designed this engine to burn just about anything that is combustible – raw, pressed oil, alcohol, wood, gas, flour dust if necessary, anything..." Drorli nodded approvingly. "Yep...adjustable compression, valve timing, interchangeable carburetion injection systems, just to name a few of the items incorporated in this machine."

Drorli asked, curious, "Why not modify or use what we already have?" He pointed toward the two other vehicles silently drifting to a stop behind the carriage.

"You make wonderful machines," Jebbson confessed, "expensive, complicated, and time-consuming to build and repair. That's why so many of your old relics from bygone days have been pressed back into service like those antiques there." He pointed at the two anti-gravity cars. "Those things are well over two hundred years old, been rebuilt God only knows how many times. Takes weeks just to get a new one off the line. How are we going to build a million of 'em in time for this coming war? If you have hidden facilities to do it, please inform me and I'll stop production on these contraptions of mine tomorrow."

Drorli agreed, acknowledging Jebbson's remarks, grinning, "I don't believe even Lowenah knows how many times those machines have seen a rebirth! I don't believe she cares to know. That's why she's delivered your kind here, to help us get out of our old, reliable, stuck-in-the-mud ways, and learn to adapt to your new and exciting, often dangerous ways."

A shout from a man stepping out of the lead gravity car stopped the conversation. "Do you play all day at games of words while work needs being done? Come and give the lady a hand with her packages. There's more than a few."

The lady was already busy opening the rear panel on the third vehicle, a rather squat, boxy machine that was currently in use as a postal truck. She poked her head out from behind the truck, thanking the man for his consideration. "Apollonius, my sweet darling, never mind those thoughtless boys and come here and give your maiden-in-distress a hand."

Drorli shouted back a good-natured retort to the woman. "Is it now the charming ewe that chases the buck? Sweet Chasileah, doth your haunting refrains of endearment from yesterday's eve fall from the tree of love as does the greenery of the forest so die to brown and drift away into forgetfulness?"

Suan, who was holding Apollonius' hand as he assisted her down from the machine, looked back at Chasileah, chiming in, "I told you he was smooth of tongue, didn't I? Apollonius can do that to you, cloud your dream shares so that you forget who you've been with and when."

Drorli feigned a frown. "My little Suan, that is not at all what I recall when we were entwined in each other's romance as the springtime sun broke through the eastern tower windows."

After stepping to the ground, Suan shrugged, pointing back toward Apollonius who was walking over to assist Chasileah. "When the wind is chill, for one cold and naked any shawl will do. It was a long, lonely night I endured whilst my man hid himself away with the jungle witches of EthoHule. You were a convenient shawl, warm and comfortable, but oh for the heated passion of Apollonius!"

Drorli began to protest, explaining the difference between a sweet interlude of gentle romance and the heated rush of a buck in rut. As he went on in his defense, Chasileah approached, gently pushing a small package into his hands while kissing him hard on the lips. "Oh hush, you!" She kissed him again. "You and that fellow are all the same. Romance? Only after you've rutted to satisfaction... The difference with him is that he's honest enough to admit his desires openly and, when he takes his ewe, plays at love not like a game but with a desperate earnestness."

Pouting, Drorli asked, dejected, "Then my love is seen as only shallow, a ritual of tradition, a performance to satisfy the customs of this world?"

Chasileah kissed him again, watching the gleam in his eyes as she answered, "You beg for my bed through pleasant prose, innuendos and flirting glances, hinting at the desires buried in your heart. That man flirts with his open speech and the gentle touch of his fingers, then like the rolling, unstoppable tide wraps me up in his passion, singing loves songs without rhyme or prose, but with abandon."

She cupped her hands over Drorli's, looking down at the package he was holding. "A gift for my wild stallion, my fox on the chase... I know the fire burns bright in your heart for my love." She glanced over her shoulder where Apollonius and the others were piling packages onto a cart. Looking back at Drorli and up into his eyes, she confessed, "I've missed your touch these many nights, you being so busy with things and me about in this delivery business. It's been awhile since we've been together. Wanted to linger in your company that day at the spaceport, but had duties in Oros to attend to."

Symeon arrived near the end of this amorous sparring. It rankled him to see so much open cavorting, the seemingly endless game of musical beds, this one tonight, and another one tomorrow. Then to think that Hanna and Drorli had romanced each other the night after coming here to attend to the needs of his little girl? Now, here Drorli was wrapped up in seductive indulgence with another woman and Hanna watching from the nearby porch. Did he not have any consideration for the woman's feelings?

Symeon indignantly harrumphed, "The day is wasting away and my child is lost in that desolate wilderness out there somewhere! Games of 'chase the rabbit' can come another time. Help has arrived. Now let's be about our business."

Drorli and Chasileah turned their attention to their antagonist as Eurawha stepped up beside Symeon, wrapping her arm about his and pulling close. She cooed softly in the fellow's ear, her warm breath caressing his skin, "The prince of saints surely knows that time is well in hand to accomplish all needed tasks. Your presence alone will make this day a success."

Symeon's face flushed red as he was caught up speechless by Eurawha's intoxicating refrains and sensual touch. How could this be? He loved Hanna so much, more than life, but this woman, Eurawha, not only inflamed his passions, but also made his heart flutter with smitten stirrings, causing a struggle to awake within him as to who he loved more. Why? To love two or more women at the same time, each equally but differently? Not possible! Yet were not the books of his peoples' history filled with songs of men loving many women at the same time? Too much for this fellow to think about at the moment, he hesitantly thanked Eurawha for her kindness and asked again, this time more politely, "Shouldn't we be at our business of rescuing Ishtar? After all, that's what this is all about, isn't it?"

Drorli agreed, smiling while casting his gaze toward the eastern hills. "I should have warned you to come by way of the northern road and park behind the barns out there at the edge of the village. Our girl was hiding not far from here. When she saw those two gravity trucks, she panicked and went off screaming. She's heading for the eastern wood right now."

"Made it all the way there." Hanna called out, glancing back at the machines inside the building. "Hiding under the boughs of a giant hemlock in the deep forest at the moment."

"Let's gather our stuff and meet back here." Drorli suggested. "There's a cold front approaching, bringing with it a nasty storm. I want our charge back home before it strikes."

By the time everyone was ready, another two carriages had arrived, bringing the total in the rescue party to twelve. The man who Apollonius met at Jem's Tavern came in the last machine. He felt so out of place, and looked it, too, dressed up in colorful, official attire from long ago. Everyone one was polite, but the occasional raised eyebrow and smirk made the man feel all that more uncomfortable.

At last he asked, nearly begging, "Must I wear this? The girl will cast aspersions upon me if we should meet. Must she also be filled with dread at seeing her evil torturer?"

Drorli stepped forward, resting a hand on the man's shoulder. "My friend, I would not cause you such anguish as you currently feel if it were not out of necessity, and possibly for the girl's safety. The hour is short, intentionally so. It is nearly dusk. Ishtar fears us only out of uncertainty. You represented authority absolute in your day for her. To the point of death she would obey you, for that is what her reason demands of her. She will listen to you."

Dismayed, the man asked, "Is there no other way to bring her back?"

Drorli frowned as he shook his head, "No, I think not. I did hope the child's angel, Darla, would be able to assist us, but she's off with her fellow and I have no idea when she will return. For now, it's us and you."

Apollonius started up a gravity machine, its quiet whirring drifting upon the gentle breeze. Chasileah motioned to some of the others and started for the vehicle. Drorli called out after her, "My enchantress, your sweet refrains will charm the child's spirit, soothing her soul into willful submission. Oh, how bewitching is the doe calling out her love to the sky."

Chasileah stopped, calling back, "And will also the wolf grow hungry tonight for the songs the lonely doe cries out upon the breeze? I do hope so..."

Drorli laughed, "Be careful the feral beast, for its hunger ever grows with the temptress' call!" Smiling seductively, Chasileah turned and hurried to the machine.

Drorli and the others started for the road. They were going to walk into the woods, coming in from the west. Chasileah and her crew were taking the road out of the village, north and round about to the south, entering the forest from the east, hoping to persuade Ishtar to head back toward the village.

A shout from the building stopped the others. Jebbson came running down the walkway dressed up in similar fashion as the man. He grinned, shouting, "Found this old costume in the wardrobe. Thought you might want some company, to make you look more official."

Staring Jebbson up and down, the man finally pointed a finger at him. "A blind beggar would know you're an imposter, but if you insist on going along, stand up and look important and keep your mouth shut. One word from you and Ishtar will know this is all a sham."

Jebbson bowed low, extending his hand. "Your servant..."

Everyone laughed heartily as Jebbson danced a little jig, twirling about as he sang a Scottish ditty. Drorli put an end to matters, hurrying everyone along. As the party passed by the parked machines, the man bent low to take a look at one of the gravity trucks. His offhanded comments regarding this strange world got everyone to laughing again. As the sun drifted into shadow, the village street was quiet once more, the eager party disappearing into the gathering darkness.

Long had the sun's power waned when spidery, gray clouds began creeping across the darkening sky. Ishtar peeked out from under the boughs of her hiding tree only to groan in despair. The smell carried on the quiet breeze warned of a coming storm, the threatening clouds harbingers of its arrival. Her feet hurt from the wild, panicked flight, and her stomach ached from hunger, having not eaten for many long hours.

Ishtar was tired, torn, bruised and distraught. Her blouse, providing little protection from the previous night's chill was not much more than tatters, leaving the girl all but naked. Why had they not come to recapture her? Was there some reason hidden to her that kept them from entering this forest? She shuddered at the thought of terrifying beasts or an evil necromancer, or possibly the cannibalistic Cyclops her father once told her about!

" _Screech-a-chk-chk-chee-screech!"_ A bone-chilling shriek coming from the deeper wood echoed through the woods.

With a cry, Ishtar was up and running in a panic for her life, paying no heed to brier or bush. As she stampeded through the growing gloom, her foot chanced upon a protruding root, catching the girl up, pitching her headlong onto the hard, forest floor, tearing away her shredded blouse when she fell in a sliding crash. Sitting up, dazed, the child quickly gathered her wits about her, ignoring the throbbing in her foot and charged ahead on the trail.

Gathered her wits? Yes, but other things were not considered in the rush of that moment. When she finally came to a panting halt some distance from the foreboding of the deep east woods, Ishtar realized her nakedness. Moaning in despair, the girl stared longingly back down the trail. That garment, as badly destroyed as it might be, represented her last and only means of protection, a shield between her and the rest of the world. Now she stood there exposed, totally vulnerable to all, a helpless slave to the universe around her.

Ishtar was given little time to contemplate her dilemma or whether she should attempt a rescue of her lost garment. Sounds of the earlier, screechy chatter drifted through the air, telling the girl that whatever was making those noises had also departed the deep woods. Without giving her night blouse further thought and forgetting her naked condition, Ishtar took off in fright on a hobbling run, attempting to distance herself from whatever evil creatures might be in pursuit.

The girl's reckless desire to escape took her to the southwest, far from the trail she had taken earlier that day. Here she could find no defined path, only seemingly endless stands of hoary oaks punctuated with patches of thorny thickets. Exhausted, Ishtar struggled to find her way in the gathering darkness. The foreboding sky was now occasioning a white, glowing flash of distant lightning far off on the horizon, warning of the approaching storm.

Stopping to rest at the edge of a clearing filled with tall weeds and scraggly huckleberry bushes, Ishtar looked into the gathering gloom, pondering what she should do. The previous night's rain would pale in comparison to this looming storm, and here there were no giant trees to shelter under. The forest was thinning, its trees small and spindly, and the leafy thickets filled with thorns and stinging nettles. On the verge of tears, she sought a trail through the thickets in hopes of finding a better hiding place to weather the coming tempest.

" _Screech-a-chk-chk-chee-screech!"_ The cry of a deep-forest beast fell upon Ishtar's ears, quickly followed by " _screeh–ee-kac-chee-screech!"_ coming from a different direction. Too terrified to scream, Ishtar clutched her chest as her heart erupted in an excruciating spasm. Hearing the howling again shook her to her senses. Off she went on a mindless run, escape from these monsters her only concern.

The going was not easy, and when she blindly ran into the thorny branches of a wild rose bush, Ishtar surrendered to the fate of the moment. In howling despair, the girl fell to the ground, crumpled up into a little ball, clutching her bleeding face while weeping pitiably. "Mother! Oh, mother, why has it come to this? What evil has your little child done to be treated with such cruelty? Why have you not come to rescue me?"

A chill gust of wind suddenly swept over Ishtar, sending shivers through her naked body. Rolling over onto her back, she sat up, wiping oozing blood from her mouth while she contemplated the moment. A tempest appeared to be swiftly approaching. The girl needed to find some shelter soon. There was none here and...and her belly ached from hunger. Oh, she was so hungry!

At that instant, the shine of tiny, glowing lights appeared off in the darkness, accompanied by quiet hooting noises. Forgetting all other concerns, Ishtar struggled to her feet and took to flight on a limping run.

Flight did not last long though, the girl soon tiring in hopeless despair. The hooting had been constantly growing louder as the creatures drew ever closer. Eventually, her surroundings were filled with countless glowing lights, Ishtar believing them to be the ghostly eyes of the demons. Dismayed, the girl looked ahead to see the trail entering the gloomy forest. Whimpering in surrender, she sat with a _plop!_ in the middle of a mossy, grass-covered clearing.

Accepting whatever might become of her, she waited while watching the golden lights growing brighter. The creatures drew nearer, all the while quietly hooting. A sudden movement high above caught Ishtar's eye. She glanced up just in time to watch a pair of those lights accompanied by a black shadow swoop down from a tall tree and land gracefully in the grasses little more than a rod from her.

Though terrified, Ishtar could not help but stare curiously at the intruder. Small, little larger than a street cat it was, with giant, saucer-size eyes that glowed golden yellow like the moon. It reminded her of the dancing monkeys found in the marketplace, except this monkey could fly!

After quietly studying the girl for some time, the little monkey-like animal began a wild, excited hooting and stood up on its hind legs, jumping about in frenzied gyration. Ishtar could clearly see wide flaps of skin that allowed the monkey-like creature to glide down from the trees, but she took no note of it for, at that instant, the entire forest erupted in a deafening hooting and screeching as hundreds of dark shadows began jumping about in raucous tumult, the girl thinking it was in anticipation of their upcoming meal.

The little creature finally tired of its antics and fell forward on its tiny hands. The animal had long fingers of sorts, the same as could be found on its feet. Bobbing its head from side to side as if studying this newfound arrival, it began to cautiously approach, the other monkey-like animals leaning forward, watching curiously.

Ishtar screamed, frantically waving her arms. The little creature jumped back, chattering excitedly, exposing its long fangs as it cried out in surprise. The other creatures all joined in with their screeching chatter. When Ishtar finally stopped her panicked gesticulations, the uproarious antics of the little animals also subsided.

Soon the creature that had swooped down from the trees began anew its investigative approach. Ishtar shouted, flailing her arms to fend the creature off. All her efforts to scare this little fellow away were futile, for every time the creature was chased back, it would advance a little closer on its next return. The other monkey-like animals soon began following suit, becoming bolder until dozens of them were little more than arm's length from the girl. The excited hooting eventually quieted to little more than curious chatter, the closest of the creatures slowly pawing at the air as if reaching out to touch the girl, but not yet sure how wise it might be.

Ishtar was at a loss. Were the beasties waiting for the others to gather or on some signal to make their attack? Small they were, true, but so many of them, she stood no real chance of surviving such an onslaught should it come. What was she to do?

As the girl sat there contemplating her dire straits, she recalled a gruff voice as though coming from some confusing dream. "The Lord of Uncertainty brings many to these depths below. They wait until it is too late, no decisions come to them and down into the waters they sink and drown."

Well, the Lord of Uncertainty would not take her without a fight! Ishtar cautiously started getting to her feet. If these tiny monsters wished to make a meal of her, they would have to fight her to get it! As she stood, the entire clearing filled with riotous chatter, but the creatures did not advance. The little animals began anew their hooting, pointing at her while looking excitedly at one another.

Summoning her courage, Ishtar finally started for the edge of the forest. The creatures did not attack, but jumped clear of her, all the while hooting and dancing about while leaping into the air, stretching their arms and legs wide to drift a few feet upon the gentle breeze. In a slow and deliberate manner, the girl gradually neared the edge of the woods, finding a narrow trail that would take her to a large, open meadow not far away.

A hazy flash of distant lightning raced across the sky. Several seconds later, thunder rolled up through the forest and away down toward the eastern wood, then silence, the breeze even dying to a deathly stillness. Ishtar looked down, surprised to see the little monkey-like creatures staring up toward the sky, moving their heads around, searching the evening air. She could not help but wonder what matters were all about. Could it possibly be something caused by the coming storm? The girl doubted it. Instinctively she, too, cocked her head to listen, but for what?

Then she heard it, far in the distance, off to the east. Drifting on the night air came the most hauntingly beautiful night song. It flowed around her, through her, filling the girl's soul with feelings of warmth and contentment and others more sensual in nature. All the little monkey-like creatures erupted with excited chattering and hooting, dancing and scampering about like puppies sensing their master's return. Creating a deafening commotion, the entire troupe scampered off in the direction of the lilting melody.

Not wasting the moment, Ishtar lunged toward the trail leading to the meadow beyond, only to be stopped up short. A shadow of a much bigger creature passed across that trail and into the woods. Had the little monkey animals run away, not because of the singing, but from some other evil lurking in the trees ahead? Her heart racing, she peered into the gloomy undergrowth to see what might be hiding there.

Gradually her eyes discerned the ghostly form of a two-legged beast or person. It was too dark to tell. The shadow did not move. Gathering up courage, she shouted with bravado, her voice filled with uncertainty, "Who are you?"

A voice off to her left called out, pleading, "Please child, help we have come to give. Let us assist you."

Ishtar perked up her ears, wondering was this the voice of her uncle or, more likely, the man claiming to be such? Possibly it was her uncle's angel come to rescue her. After all, she had been very busy praying for rescue, and angels were real, or at least if the stories of the aged ones could be believed, they could be. Dare she chance such an improbability? She thought not. Shaking a fist, Ishtar bravely shouted, "Leave me be! I've got a knife and I'll stick you!"

"Do you mean this knife?" The shadow stepped forward into the evening light, revealing the shirtless man seen earlier in the building now covered by a cloak of sorts. The man held the knife Ishtar earlier lost when fleeing back into the woods after seeing those horseless chariots. He smiled, holding it up, "You should be more careful where you leave your playthings. One could get hurt if happening upon this accidentally in the darkness."

Ishtar cried out in fear and frustration, but refused to surrender the moment, standing defiant. All the while, the glen slowly filled with other shadows. The quiet was suddenly shattered by the hoots and screeches of the returning monkey-like creatures, this time accompanied by a woman of dark skin with silvery-white hair, dressed in a long, flowing cape, high, laced sandals, and little else. The woman lowered a hand toward the animals and softly called out some sort of a command to the little creatures. When all was quiet, she spoke to Ishtar. "Please child, come with us so that we all may escape this approaching storm."

Glaring wildly at the woman, Ishtar clenched her fists, screaming out in despair, "Why do you seek my death? What have I done to you so that the whole world chases my soul in search of its destruction?" She spun about, preparing to flee into the meadow beyond only to see the path now blocked by two uniformed shadows. Crying aloud, Ishtar stepped back, knowing not what to do. These were officers of the court, soldiers of the emperor. There would be no escape now, only death for her rebellion, a quick one here possible but unlikely... a slower and more painful one some other place the better reality.

The closer of the two officers stepped into the fading light, extending a hand and pointing a finger. "A servant of this land you are, to do the bidding of its lord and master. To the will of its rulers you have not submitted yourself, and well you know the penalty for such disobedience. What do you say? Will you submit to the rightful powers now that you have been reminded of them?"

Ishtar's head swirled with confusion and bewilderment as long-sleeping memories began to waken, filling her head with dread and ghastly sights. This man, this officer she remembered...at least somewhere far back in the recesses of her memory remembered. She recalled enough to dread and fear him. He was the law, enforcing that law in any manner he saw fit. There would be no escaping this man or his wrath.

Dropping her arms in defeat, Ishtar lowered her head and bowed, distraught, staring at the ground. "Lord Treston, I fear I have spoken without knowledge this day. Please allow this child life and overlook her ruefulness."

Treston could barely contain his real feelings. Knowing he must play this night to its full, he gruffly replied, "Life and death are not yours to command. Remain where you are and do not resist any longer."

Ishtar nodded, promising to be submissive.

Treston's heart ached with guilt and remorse. Here was the goddess divine he loved and cherished. The pain of this charade was nearly as distressing as would be death, possibly more so. He must do something to ease his growing anguish, but what? He smiled. There was one thing he could do. Removing his officers' cape, he stepped up to Ishtar, wrapping it about her. "I promise you no harm this night. The powers in this land wish only for your rescue from the coming storm."

When the woman of song approached, Treston lifted a hand toward her, requesting, "Chasileah, do not bind her for she has promised to remain obedient to us."

Chasileah smiled, replying, "Yes, my Lord, as you wish. This I will do, and tend to her injuries, too, as well as procure some food for a hungry belly."

Soon she, Ishtar, and the others were in the meadow, making haste to escape the rapidly advancing rains.

Last to leave the woods were Drorli and Treston. They stopped at the edge of the field, watching the distant lightning, listening to the rumble of the thunder as it rolled over the hills. Drorli thanked Treston for the part he played in all this.

Treston's head sank in dismay. "This has hurt me more than may be. Should I have perished forever would have been lesser of a punishment than I have endured this eve. Hope, I pray, that never shall I suffer so again."

Drorli laughed, patting his friend on the shoulder, "Almost gave yourself away there, being so soft on the girl."

"What?" Treston was not pleased at all with Drorli's comment. "Murdered her once! Wasn't that sufficient? Never will I be able to look her in the eye without feeling such regret."

Drorli laughed again, "Feelings change, have changed. The pain we will all forget once the tapestry has been woven to the full. Trust me, that girl will love you one day... loves you even now. Doesn't know it yet, but she does."

Treston was more than a little confused and unhappy with Drorli's joking. "You speak like the senseless women who wish only to see the good in all things."

Drorli defended himself. "A senseless woman I am not! I don't joke with you at all. I speak only truth. Time heals all wounds. Besides," he paused, watching sheet lightning streak across the sky, "I also know for Mother told me this very fact and you know it, too, in your heart. The two of you are attached at the hip, ever since her spirit consumed you in the arena that day. In a way you're both one, married up in some twisted ritual of life and death, I suppose. Your future fate and destiny are shared with that girl. You can't escape it, nor can she."

Treston fussed.

Drorli would have none of it. "Tonight you saved our girl from a very uncomfortable fate, but you will do so even more in the future, and from far worse fates, I assure you. The evil hour pants ever closer and that girl will need you more then than she does now, and this time you will do her right, save her very soul and others as well." He waxed poetic. "'The Devil's spawn shall the Devil's machinations bring to a finish. To Desmond's halls shall the holy saints journey with a fearsome host, to bring to a finish what the Wicked One has birthed in secret.'"

"What are you about?" Treston asked, still confused.

Drorli refused to speak more of the matter other than, "Long ago, at least by the reckoning of your lifetimes, were those words uttered by our queen, Tolohe, before she departed for dark and distant worlds after this Rebellion began. You, my friend, were not delivered here to merely assist this child tonight. Many more are the adventures you are going to have... you and her. Get used to it." He laughed again.

Treston said nothing, could think of nothing to say in reply, his mind troubled as he mulled over Drorli's revelations. Together, the two men started for the safety of distant shelter.

Drorli suddenly stopped in mid-stride. Looking his friend over from head to foot, he humorously mused, grinning, "You know, you cut quite a pose in that uniform. It really becomes you. Makes you look all authoritative and important. I'd keep it around if I were you, just in case that girl gets a little uppity in the future."

Treston's face clouded. Then he saw the twinkle in Drorli's eyes. "Oh, you and your kind anyway!" He motioned him to be off. "Be gone with you..." At that, he turned, taking up a run to escape the rain.

Drorli laughed, chasing after him as he also took up a hurried pace.

Chill rains soon swept in, swelling the tiny brook with a brown, frothing flood. The little monkey-like creatures retreated to the protection of the eastern woods, longing to hear their mistress of song again. Chasileah and Drorli finally found some private time for themselves. Symeon and Hanna remained far into the night with Ishtar, eventually succumbing to their need for rest, soon falling asleep in each other's arms.

And Ishtar? The girl lay awake in her cozy room, staring into the glow of the dancing firelight. No longer were her doors barred, no need for it. Where was she to go? Where was she? Who really were these strangers and why was she here? Tomorrow...maybe tomorrow she would find the answer. Tonight, though, she would...

Soon the sounds of slumber drifted from the girl's bedchamber into the room beyond. There, at a tiny table, a restless and troubled Treston sat alone, contemplating the future and what it might bring.

* * *

' _Oros, oh sweet, lovely Oros, deceptive Oros,_

Love songs you sing to the beauty of war.

Your musical entreaties with enchantment filled

To seduce the unwary and innocent souls.

With pomp and ceremony you gather them in

To send them away with no promise of return.'

~Sodasonie, White Buffalo Woman

Oros, a small city nestled at the eastern base of the ObebBailSoar Mountains on a broad, well-watered plain was one of EdenEsonbar's oldest cities. Built as a way station for sojourners crossing the 'Great Divide' as the ObebBailSoar Mountain Range was then known, it was either the last stop for provisions before entering the wilder lands or the first oasis of civilization for tired souls on their return. Ancient it was, built in the days when knives of flint and capes of fur were common attire, and when even the horse was still an untamed beast of the plains.

Legends spoke of Oros in mystical and magical ways, saying that the Tower of Oros, (also called 'CaLounDunne' by Sodasonie), a rock-hewn fortress carved into a mountainous outcropping high above the city, was built by the Ones Who Came Before. Whether it be true or not, neither Chrusion nor Tolohe lay claim to its building. Even the name Oros, rendered in runes carved on stones at the base of the tower, was shrouded in mystery.

After her returning from the Jahouk Mountains on MueoPoros, Tolohe took for her home that ancient tower, incorporating it into the palace she eventually built there. In time, the name 'Oros' came to mean 'City of the Lady' or 'City of the Lady's Love'. It was there, in Tolohe's palace, that many of Lowenah's sons came of age, serving in the Lady's house during their eight virgin years. Soon after the Rebellion, Tolohe disappeared behind the sealed doors of her estate, never to be seen again throughout that evil age, Gabrielle (Sodasonie) the only one permitted entrance after that time. There were those who supposed, a few who even knew the truth of matters, but none spoke it aloud. For all others, Tolohe was gone, never to come back to this world turned evil and dark, the curse her final words had cast upon the city proof of that.

Since that time, the city of Oros had evolved into a bustling metropolis filled with factories, spaceports, depots, and military encampments staring up at Tolohe's forebodingly silent palace. A few brave souls might journey the path to the locked gate of her palace, it and the surrounding walls now nearly entombed in tangles of thorny ivy. They would look up at the weathered tower, its sightless windows glaring back down menacingly. There was a sense of unwelcome that hung upon the place that was so powerful that none other than Gabrielle attempted entry beyond.

So, in time the name 'Oros' eventually acquired the meaning 'Valley of Lost Souls, the Motherless Child,' as it is still known down to this day. To this city came the patriotic and loyal, marching off to the endless wars that so many did not return from other than be gathered to their rest in the Silent Tombs. For countless new recruits seeing the city's vast expanse below, the descent down the eastern mountains on the ObebBailSoar railstage was the beginning of their journey into Hell.

(Author's note _: The periodical,_ _Ottawa_ _, recently published an article describing Oros during the days leading up to the King's War. The following excerpts taken from its pages add interesting details concerning the military's deep interest in the city in those days._

~" _Oros was a small city nestled in the lower mountains about thirty leagues east of Palace City. It had been chosen by the new field marshal and her party to be the nerve center of Army operations, and it was not by mere coincidence that it was selected._

Early on, Trisha's team had decided to keep the center of operations on the home planet. Although Lowenah promised Asotos that she would not use her power to directly influence the outcome of events, she still would provide guiding counsel at appropriate times. Being only minutes away by air ship made gaining a face to face audience with her much easier than if they were located on another planet or even a nearby moon.

_Oros was also near the Teleohodos jump portal. It was one of four strategic portals located within the Children's Empire. Teleohodos opened upon many hundreds of exit points, Eden's Gate being the only other portal having greater capabilities. These two_ _jump locations connected to seventy percent of all known exit points. If, by chance, Eden's Gate became inaccessible, a ship could still reach the Second Realm, albeit by a much more circuitous route. This happened once, long before, when Mihai attempted to send support troops to Gabrielle's forces, waylaid by the prince of Persia, Legion, just outside the Second Realm. It took Mihai nearly three weeks to bring aid by the Teleohodos portal, nine days more than Eden's Gate would have required._

_Oros' location also afforded the Army great protection by a powerful, unseen defense. Trisha and her officers believed that Asotos would need to be desperate before he would attempt an attack on Lowenah's home planet. To do such a thing might risk her wrath. If that happened, she might call negotiations at the prisoner exchange invalid and rescind her agreement to abstain from active military involvement. No force could ever withstand Lowenah's private military sentinels. They were indestructible and unstoppable. For this reason, Oros could be garrisoned by a relatively small military thus permitting those forces to be used elsewhere_.

The idea that Lowenah might do such a thing was not unfounded. During the Great War, a small armada of Asotos' warships came upon one of Lowenah's trading ships en route to a nearby opposing colony. They attacked it in an attempt to capture the ship and whatever contents might be aboard. The story was told that the little vessel suddenly lit up in a blinding ball of white, static fire, erupting into a wall of searing flame that enveloped the armada, dissolving it in seconds. Only a distant outrider scout craft survived to relate the story. To this day, those burned and twisted hulks have remained as a warning sign of Lowenah's hidden powers.

This was not the first time the city of Oros was used for military purposes. During the Great War, it was a center hub for industry. The original city was built on a series of narrow valleys and steep bluffs at the eastern base of the mountain range separating it from Palace City. These valleys collected together south of the city to form a plain that gradually spread out to several miles in width. The rich, black soil once produced outstanding crops of grain and vegetables. Farms were replaced with factories and warehouses, the waters of the Oros River and feeder streams used to power the wheels of production. After the Great War ended, the vast fields of buildings were abandoned to the elements and now lay moldering.

_The Navy's old headquarters, which was part of the ShiGohn-HowlKine Military Complex, were located about five miles south of the city proper. It was a network of landing fields and hangars, some large enough to hide a ship the size of DusmeAstron inside with the hangar doors closed. Scattered around the grounds were old ships in various stages of repair. When news came of the Armistice, the maintenance crews put down their tools and walked away from them as if going on break, never to return. Storerooms, barracks, machine shops, mess halls and all the other odd buildings necessary to maintain such an operation were silent reminders of the struggle, most of them surrendered up to the elements the same as the ships had been."_ )

Tiny pieces of gravel crunched beneath the field marshal's feet as she slowly paced the tarmac of the ancient Navy depot at the ShiGohn-HowlKine Military Complex. Late evening showers had moved off to the east, leaving behind a refreshing summer chill on a light breeze. Few were the people busying themselves about this night, a happy couple exiting the ramp of Dogie hurrying off together, and the pleasant chatter of some men far up the street. It was quiet, the mood peaceful, but the harmonics hidden beneath flowing with agitation.

Trisha grew nervous as she anxiously awaited Zadar's arrival. She lifted her head as if sniffing the breeze. Yes, a pungent smell of evil lingered heavy upon the night air, growing stronger by the moment. What kind of abomination must be lurking out there midst the ruins of the abandoned depot, capable of cloaking itself from all save a few? Or was it possibly just her? There was no indication others felt its wrathful hatred. Only she did. And now it was calling to her to seek it out.

Wrapping her arms about herself, Trisha silently contemplated the demon hiding somewhere out there in the darkness. She first had noticed it that night at the last council meeting but disregarded it, thinking it possibly to be coming from Darla. Twice more its open malice was revealed during her argument with Mihai and later, during the prisoner exchange. Was this one of Asotos' new, demented creations unleashed, a weapon secreted in living flesh that harbored no soul or heart?

Zadar finally arrived, hurrying down Dogie's ramp with the items Trisha requested he deliver from her cabin. "Found 'em tucked away where you said they'd be."

Trisha thanked Zadar as she reached first for the belted, scabbarded sword. Fastening it about her waist, she made casual conversation. "I see a lot has been accomplished since our return. This is a good place to set up headquarters. That old command center is perfect for us."

She reached for her cape, draping it about her shoulders and tying it fast to her uniformed shirt. "Offices and wardrooms should be ready to move into within a day or two. Technicians have been more than busy setting them up for us. Then we can surrender Dogie back to the Navy or possibly convert it into our command ship."

Zadar laughed, "Doubt the Navy will want it except for a target tug or a target. Maybe we can use it to train recruits, you know, for landing operations and such. There are so many new ones arriving every day, most who've never seen combat let alone what we're planning."

Trisha glanced about at her surroundings as shaky fingers tied the last of the cape's strings to her shirt loop. Through pale lips, she remarked, "It was so stuffy in the mess tonight. I needed to get some fresh air, clear my head a bit. Yes, you're right of course, about Dogie, I mean. Contact fleet in the morning requesting our extended use of it. Tell them it will be returned, little less for wear."

Zadar could feel something wasn't right and asked, concerned, "Tr... Commander, is everything alright?"

"Leftenant, when I need counsel, I'll ask for it." Trisha answered curtly.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Zadar replied.

Trisha quickly took Zadar's hands, apologizing, "Please...please forgive me," she begged. "Troubled is the heart of this lost child, and I must go find who I am."

Squeezing her hands, Zadar recommended, "Then allow me to go with you so that we will find your soul together."

A chill swept down across Trisha's shoulders as she lowered her head, staring at her feet. So much she wanted this man to go with her, but it could not be. Whatever evil awaited her in the darkness was deadly powerful. Few other than possibly herself or Gabrielle had the strength to best this fearsome beast. Zadar, along with a company of her best troopers, would not survive this demon's assault...nor might she, but try she must.

Trisha looked up into Zadar's face, softly rubbing his cheek with her fingers. "You're a wonderful man. No one have I loved more than you. Our souls are one, are they not?" She gave him a gentle kiss on his lips then turned away, staring off into the night. "I will journey alone this eve, for the ache in my bones tells me that is the way it must be."

Zadar protested, "If there is danger at your door, then you should permit your servant to accompany you!"

Trisha looked back at Zadar, the man seeing a glint of tears in her eyes. She smiled, sadly, "I go to prevent danger, my love. If I do not return, then danger may find you. So prepare yourself and put the night watch on alert. Pray that it is nothing more than bad wine in my head that has given me these visions."

This was not at all to Zadar's liking. He began to argue.

Trisha raised her hand, "Leftenant, I have given you a direct order. See that it is carried out." Waiting for no reply, she spun about and hurried away into the night.

Chill breezes waxed into cold gusts as they funneled between the buildings and through litter-strewn streets of the deserted naval base. Old shutters swung back and forth, crashing against shattered windows, the woman warily looking up as she passed below. Ears were of no value this night, the rattling of loose roofing and boards too tumultuous. Eyes fared little better, what with dancing shadows of ghostly debris flitting about.

Along the narrow alley, an occasional streetlight attempted to push away the blackness by casting its sickly pall into the night. At least the work crews had succeeded in returning power to this part of the depot. This might serve her well should the battle be forced inside the opaque walls of the surrounding buildings which was probably going to be the situation.

Trisha stayed to the shadows, attempting to avoid piles of broken crates and their scattered contents to maintain a silent pace. It was not easy. Abandoned when news of the Great War's armistice arrived, the military complexes of Oros became little more than a haunt for the horned owl and other spooks of the animal world. When Garlock took up manufacturing here, his people hastily scoured the deserted shops and warehouses for needed machinery and equipment, leaving a haphazard clutter behind, no place being more affected than the warehouse district where Trisha currently found herself.

Coming to an unlit alley off to her left, Trisha stopped to listen, not with her ears but her mind. She remembered well the first law of physics in EbenCeruboam: frequency \- sound, even unheard sound passing through an energy field alters the state of energy within the field, changing its properties. Depending upon the frequency's waveform and amplitude or power, energy would freeze – solidify into certain patterns or shapes. If that frequency's amplitude remained constant, the patterns would also, thus producing what the children called 'matter'.

(Author's note: _In the study of EbenCeruboam, this core energy was called the 'First Element' while frequency was the 'Second Element'_.)

She also knew that by projecting and focusing the frequency created within her own brain, she could read the elemental world around her. This 'sixth sense', as some from her world referred to it, was merely the brain's ability to collect feedback frequencies. Collecting the feedback was the easy part. Successfully interpreting it was a bit more difficult. This ability to use what some called the 'third eye' was the tricksy part, not easily mastered.

Trisha had done her studies, knew well the principles of these laws, but she now regretted having failed to master them through recommended practice, depending on her eyes and ears because it had been the easy thing to do. True, she had her multicolored onyx ring given her by the Lord of the universe, but even it did not provide the assistance she desired tonight. This the woman puzzled over. Usually in times of danger such as at the prisoner exchange, a warm, reassuring pulse could be felt flowing up through her arm, refreshing mind and heart, sharpening her wit. Tonight the ring slept, cold and heavy upon her finger.

Lifting her head to sniff the breeze, Trisha could sense her adversary's uncloaked anger. Too careless it was, revealing its presence so openly. Or was she being drawn into a trap? She sniffed again, head tipped back with eyes closed. The demon's harmonics appeared not to have changed. Trisha sighed a troubled breath, feeling she had not yet been discovered, a sweaty palm fondling the hilt of the derker blade given her by Lowenah.

Oh for the courage she possessed at the prisoner exchange! Tonight was so different, her confidence waning with each passing moment. What was the matter? The woman's inner voice had warned her of hidden danger should this course be pursued, and now a growing discord in the harmonics reinforced that warning. Indeed, the very breeze whispered for her to take flight.

But what else was there for it? If this satanic monster were not checked, it might sweep ruin across the city. She was the 'Sword of Destiny' that must bring this evil to a finish! Gripping the hilt of her sword and focusing on the task at hand, Trisha sighed again, resigned, and began quietly making her way into the pressing gloom.

The ominous, black shape of a gigantic building slowly rose before her, blotting out the glow in the sky of the many distant furnaces feeding Garlock's ever-hungry factories with the precious metals needed to create his weapons of war. The field marshal slowly pulled her sword from its scabbard, silently regretting not bringing the sidearm the man had gifted her with.

How foolish it had been to think so chivalrously of bladed combat, the look of life escaping a defeated foe with the bloodied sword resting in the victor's hand. What if her opponent had no such aspirations, desiring only victory without celebration? In that case, the battle might be quick, the vanquished seeing little more than a flash before life was extinguished. How foolish the sword, yes, the symbol of authority. But no longer master of the battlefield, why had she been so brash to believe it otherwise? Too late...

Working her way along the side of the old warehouse, Trisha eventually came to a service door hanging loose on its hinges. She carefully wiggled through the narrow opening into the blackness within. So dark it was as to make it impossible to see a thing. Closing her eyes to concentrate on the task at hand, the woman reached out with her harmonic senses to view this secreted world with her mind. With a great deal of effort, her surroundings started to take on shape and meaning.

The contents remained little changed from the day the children set down their tools and walked away from here, Garlock's scavengers not yet having made their presence felt. Row upon row of crates and pallets remained untouched, stacked almost to the ceiling, the narrow aisles between excellent places to set a trap. This was not to Trisha's liking at all. She should leave, drawing her opponent out into the open, but pride was awake now - pride and over-confidence. Had she not bested the Great Worm? How could his demented creation be more dangerous?

Straining to feel the surrounding harmonics, Trisha could sense the slow beating of a heart and the easy, rhythmic breathing of a body resting, possibly asleep. Asleep, she doubted, but resting, being blissfully ignorant of approaching danger? Possibly... She smiled to think how easy a victory this might become. Then she scowled, disappointed at the thought that this might not be the glorious battle she had envisioned.

Carefully studying the shadowy pictures in her mind as she crept along a wall of stacked crates, Trisha eventually reached the far end of the building. The passage on this end traversed the length of the warehouse, having several narrow exits that cut into the bowels of this mountain of containers - a dangerous place, indeed, if happened on by surprise. Yet that was the woman's destination, only she intended to do the surprising.

As she stealthily passed by each opening off the main aisle, Trisha would lift her head to sniff the breeze so to speak, until stopping in front of one where she felt the harmonic scent to be the strongest. Steeling herself, she started down the long corridor in search of her prey.

It was wearisome and trying to her soul as Trisha carefully made her way along the narrow corridor that was little more than an arm's width from wall to wall on either side of her, and there were so many things she must be concentrating on at the same time. She found it easier to remain focused by keeping her eyes closed tight. Even so, the woman realized it would be a simple matter to miss a little detail or two, something that might prove costly should the enemy have set a trap.

She was deep inside this cavern when it exploded into a cauldron of blinding light that pierced closed eyes, sending a numbing pain through her head. Instinctively, Trisha reeled to her left, keeping her sword held high as she spun into a metal container with a crash and a cry. Feeling a new intrusion in the harmonics, she dove backwards for the floor, tumbling heels over head, landing upright in a crouching position, feet spread, facing a giant, ghostly form standing a few paces in front of her.

Trisha considered herself fortunate to have had her eyes closed at the moment the overhead lights erupted to life. She paid little heed to them earlier, feeling them no threat and having other, more serious matters to consider. It was too late to debate strategy, for there were far more pressing concerns. Her head was racked with searing pain and only now she was beginning to gather her wits about her. Already the field marshal should be dead because, for an instant, she had been completely helpless and open to attack, yet no assault had come.

Eventually her eyes adjusted to the bright ceiling lights. What she saw astonished her. There, only a few paces' distance, stood a giant nearly as tall as Eutychus, but comely in form like a woman. Armored in steel chain mail reaching to the knees, iron boots with calf-high copper leggings, and a spiked, full helm that hid all but eyes and mouth, the creature brandished a drawn, double-edge derker sword with a blade over two short cubits in length.

Taking a step forward and planting its feet wide, the giant warrior muttered derisively, "It moves fast for something so fat and ungainly! Screams out to the sky in dread and fear, yet seeks its path to coming destruction so willingly..."

Trisha cocked her head in surprise. The voice was certainly that of a woman's and the musical lilt in its speech told tales of a song maiden. What kind of an evil invention of Satan's was this vile thing, a temptress singing it siren's song to lure the unwary to their death? Whatever it was, such trickery did not work on this woman. She would break the monster's enchanting spell.

Trisha snarled contemptuously, "What reward does the cowardly whoremaster offer his bitch-child to sing my death song? Is it with wine or a donkey's cock that you will be paid?"

The woman creature's eyes blazed in rage, her reply a tempestuous roar. "No whore am I! And my Master no coward! I am come a free woman to rid this world of fornicating tricksters the likes of you who pollute this world by your very breath, whose words of praise hide the poison of vipers! My Master...my God you have humiliated! How you have been allowed to live until now is beyond my comprehension!"

Trisha contemptuously spat, "Your Lord of the Maggots deserves only death - a gift I would have willingly proffered if my hand were not checked at the last moment!"

Enraged, the woman creature bellowed, "How dare you blaspheme the rightful Ruler of these worlds! Die!" She raised her sword high, grasping it with both hands while leaning forward to charge the attack.

Trisha did the same, watching with curiosity as the woman creature dumbly stared up at her own sword. The flaming white fire that had surged along with green flames on the derker blade suddenly died away, leaving the woman creature spellbound and momentarily distracted. Well, she was not distracted.

Instantly sizing up the matter, Trisha noticed the smallest of chinks in her enemy's armor, a gap of a finger's width between the chainmail and copper leggings, exposing part of the person's knee. In a heartbeat, she dove forward, sword swiping low and fast toward her adversary.

_Crash! Twang!_ Trisha's sword was almost wrenched from her hands with a counterblow delivered by her opponent's defensive thrust. It was her turn to stare dumbly in disbelief. Never had she seen someone respond so quickly to fend off such a striking blow. Jumping back in an attempt to distance herself from another counterblow, she hurried to gather her wits as she stared, wondering what damage she might have delivered.

In a blur, the woman creature's sword was raised high again. She winced in discomfort, feeling warm, sticky ooze running down her lower leg and into her boot. She puzzled, for never had an opponent been fast enough to touch her flesh with any bladed weapon. Had her repulsive blow not come as quickly, her leg would have been cleaved in two. As it was, the stroke cut deep into her kneecap, barely missing a tendon. Though painful, and the wound bleeding profusely, the cut was superficial. This strike only made the creature more dangerous. Her adrenalin now surging, she advanced anew, screaming insults as she charged.

Swords flew at blinding speeds, a blur of blue fire and explosive, flaming orange as blade crashed against blade. Colliding, the weapons rang with the screech of great eagles in mortal combat. The woman creature would drive a sweeping stroke downward to cleave a skull only to be thwarted by a defensive stay, instantly followed by Trisha's tempestuous counterstroke, attempting to cut tendons or disembowel. This was a fight to the death, no one questioning that outcome, only who would be the victor.

For the first time in mortal combat, the woman creature wondered if she might lose the day. So many her blade had delivered to Hell's gate. It had mattered little whom or why. It had been her job, to do her owner's bidding, yet the victory had always been assured, she never having a doubt who would gain the satin sheets that night. Tonight was so different. Doubt was growing in her heart. Already her fingers bled, a knuckle shattered, and her chin carried a nasty wound.

Failure was no option. It was not her own demise she feared. This vile beast had to be destroyed or all might be lost! The very powers of the universe depended on her to prevail. She was delivered here to do such a thing. She could not fail...would not! With renewed effort, she doubled down in her attack.

Trisha marveled that she still lived. The speed at which this monster attacked and the power unleashed with each blow amazed her. True, she had damaged her opponent a bit, but there were no telling blows delivered that slowed her adversary. Being unarmored did serve a tiny advantage, able to more quickly counter her opponent's attack, but it came at a price. Already she bled from several nicks and cuts as well as more serious injuries. Her left breast was cleaved deeply, soaking her torn jacket crimson red, and a gash across her forehead threatened to blind her as it bled, unimpeded. Despite those injuries necessitating her giving ground, she still charged the attack when possible.

Sounds of cries, screams and foul oaths rent the night air as these two titans clashed on Olympus' summit. To the victor went the glory, to the vanquished the fall of their universe. Neither could afford to lose. Both must win, no matter the cost, yet only one was to walk away with the victory. Bodies crashed into pallets, crates fell, hands reached for throats, boots kicked, fingers gouged, and fists flew... all the while blades ringing, defiant.

Giving no quarter, the woman creature dove upon her antagonist, her sword hammering blow after blow like hail on a tin roof. Trisha deflected each blow, offering a counterthrust as opportunity afforded. Those opportunities were rapidly diminishing, the woman creature's sheer mass and long reach making it difficult for her to take the battle offensively.

Slowly she backed away, gradually her strength waning. Although her blade still shielded her from the enemy's death stroke, how much longer would it protect her? Unless something changed the tide of battle soon, there would be no returning to loving arms this night or any other night again.

She was failing Lowenah - had failed her and all those relying on the prophecy. She, the great Sword, the flaming light of Sharon, was about to be extinguished in eternal darkness and there was nothing else for it. She could feel it, her power ebbing along with the flow of blood from her many wounds. The moment was close, but she would not give up the fight until it arrived.

Slamming the latest onslaught away with a grunt, Trisha dove low in an attempt to finish what she had begun. Too quickly, a defensive counterblow arrived, thwarting the assault. The woman creature caught Trisha's blade near the hilt with a counterthrust that nearly lifted the field marshal off her feet when she carried through with an upstroke.

Trisha was pitched back and nearly toppled over. Her left hand, bruised by the blow, broke loose from the hilt, leaving the already injured right hand to wield the sword in her defense. She attempted to regain her footing while holding her sword high to ward off a coming blow.

The woman creature spun her sword about again, sweeping it down across the hilt of Trisha's sword. Trisha heard no sound nor felt any pain as the blade flashed past her eyes. As her face was spattered with blood, she watched her own sword sail away from her, several fingers dancing haphazardly in the air before falling to the floor.

A garish grin grew across the woman creature's face as she reeled back to deliver the death stroke. Swearing vile curses, she swung with all her strength a blow for mid-skull. "Your brains shall the crows eat!" she screamed, just before her blade struck.

The sword smashed into the side of Trisha's head, the power of the blow lifting her backward, off her feet. The blade tore through her body, slamming the woman's head hard to the left and sending her into a flying twist. Bone, flesh, tongue and teeth spewed from a ruined face, spattering blood and gore across crates and floor. With a _thud!_ the field marshal fell, head-first, into a crumpled heap on the hard, concrete floor.

The woman creature quietly stood there, bloodied sword at the ready, puzzling over what had just happened. Her mood changed from puzzlement to disbelief when she heard a groan and saw her adversary slowly roll over, terribly damaged but still very much alive. This was impossible! Her enemy's head should be sheared asunder, a feat she had mastered many times with ordinary blades of steel...but with a derker sword? Perplexed, she stepped forward to have a closer look.

Trisha's right ear was split in two, her eye ripped from its socket. From there, the pointed blade had swept down at an angle across her face, pulverizing the upper jaw, cutting away a great deal of tongue and inner mouth, smashing out many of her teeth, and tearing the left jaw bone from her face. Yet she was still very much alive, though barely conscious. Her head lolling from side to side, Trisha, surrendering to her coming fate feared not her demise, regretting only her failure to best this monster of evil.

"Why don't you finish it?" A chiding voice angrily called out from the far end of the narrow aisle. "How is the butcher's bill paid when the prey still lives?"

The woman creature glanced up to see Lowenah standing there. Looking back at the bloodied vanquished, she shook her head in question, "An oak of four handbreadths would not survive such a blow, yet this creature took it and lives! I do not know... I do not know... Never have I contested against one greater than this! Fast, furious and skilled beyond belief it is!"

Lowenah threw her hands up in disgust. "Sarah, my foolish Sarah! Oh, for the wisdom of Molly Whan! Have the history lessons of your old world been wasted on you? Strike the shadows in the dark of evening and the dancing swan-maiden shall perish."

The woman creature Lowenah called 'Sarah' looked at her, concern growing on her face as she pondered the moment. Molly Whan, the story of a hunter who mistakenly killed his lover in the darkness of fading shadow, thinking she was the hunted prey. What was this all about? Whose blood dripped from her sword? Was it that of the Worm's servant, a wicked spy in their midst, or... or...?

She slowly backed away, the words of VanGoddawin ringing in her ears. 'It is an easy thing to take a life, but oh so difficult to return it to one murdered in innocence! Take Wisdom's road, my child. Do not nock the arrow until you are certain who your enemy is.'

But she was certain! With her own eyes she had watched the evil deeds of this person, its violent attacks against her king, so full of itself, spewing denunciations against the holy ones. She had studied this evil creature carefully. She was certain, wasn't she? Lowenah's visible displeasure was shaking the faith of her certainty. She recalled VanGoddawin's parting warning, 'Remember, once released, the unstoppable arrow cares not for friend or foe.'

Lowering her sword while taking another step back, Sarah cried out, panic growing in her voice, "Tell me, please, have I murdered your child?!"

At that instant, a frantic Zadar rushed up beside Lowenah, lanner drawn. Looking first at the armored warrior holding a long, bloodied blade, he chanced a glance at the ragged pile on the floor, his eyes filling with horror when he recognized it to be Trisha. Crying in despair, he lifted his lanner, squeezing its trigger, while attempting to push past Lowenah to deliver a killing shot to his lover's murderer.

Lowenah caught the distraught man by the arm, gingerly removing the lanner from his fingers. Holding his arm securely, she pulled him close, cautioning, "Your girl lives! Do not shame me with the shedding of more innocent blood this night."

Although stunned by Lowenah's revelation, Zadar dutifully obeyed, tears welling up in his eyes. "I promise, Mother, to do as you say."

"Thank you, son..." Lowenah softly replied, slowly releasing her grip on Zadar. "Go to your girl. She needs you so at this moment."

Zadar rushed to gather Trisha up in his arms. Tears streamed down his face as he dropped onto his knees and bent low, gently lifting the woman so that her head rested in his lap. This was not the first time in his life he held a torn and ruined companion. But never had his soul grieved so as it did for this most cherished one of all! He began to slowly rock back and forth while softly calling out in broken prose sweet refrains of love and endearment.

As if drawn up by a fisher's net, Trisha roused, staring sleepily through a growing, dark mist, searching for the face behind the lilting love song drifting upon the dizzying dreamscape. Finally, for only an instant before sinking below the foaming waves, she looked into the eyes of the man so tenderly caressing her heart and soul. Then, as the song floated liltingly upon her ears, she slowly drifted down into the quiet depths of mindless sleep.

Choking out Trisha's name, Zadar searched to find if her spirit remained clinging to life's hope. With shaking fingers, he carefully undid the woman's blouse until he rested his hand over her heart, waiting breathlessly for the soothing, rhythmic message he so desperately needed to feel. Was it a moment, an hour or forever? Zadar could only recall the excruciating agony of waiting a seemingly desperate eternity before that first thump of the woman's heart pulsed through his hand and into his soul.

Trisha's chest began to slowly rise and fall as weak lungs took up a quiet rhythm of deep sleep. Chancing to take his eyes away from her for but a moment, he looked over at the woman standing a few paces away. His forlorn look of desperation, of questioning accusation reflected in the woman's eyes as she helplessly stared back at the destruction she had wrought. He quickly fixed his gaze back upon his precious treasure. Pulling her close up in his arms, Zadar lowered his head and began to sob.

Sarah leaned against a broken crate to steady herself. Whether it was the bleeding injuries that made her feel so weak or the growing realization of the reckless destruction she had caused, the woman did not contemplate. Watching Zadar grieve over his loss drew forth a torrent of visions that long haunted her past \- visions never allowed to bubble up to the surface for fear they would expose the true monster demon lurking behind the mask of pious self-righteousness.

Had all the killings she had fomented, both in this world and the one before, been always for some righteous cause, self-preservation and necessity, or had she become the hunter of men for the thrill of the chase, exhilarating with demented joy as she smelled the blood of her hapless victim? Never had she looked upon her adversary as a person with feelings, hopes, or desires, nor had she contemplated her opponent to be someone's child, lover or companion. How many arms had she left bereft of cherished love? How many hearts had she filled with hopeless grief just so that she could sleep alone, unmolested, for a night?

That same forlorn grief began filling Sarah's heart. She cast her gaze toward Lowenah, searching her face for a hint of sympathetic understanding. Eyes pleading, she begged, "Please, my Lord, my breath and my soul, it was a mistake, only a mistake! The arrow has been unleashed and cannot be returned to the bow. Forgive, please, your little child for her foolishness!"

Lowenah was in too foul a mood to play the game of sympathy. She angrily spat, "Fool! Do you think I cannot read your very thoughts, your wallowing in self-pity, seeking consolation for evil deeds by my granting absolution?" She pointed an accusing finger, shaking it at both Sarah and the unconscious Trisha. "Your conceptions were no mistake. No children of drunken debauchery or of senseless fornications are you. In your mothers' bellies I wove your every fiber, your fathers seduced to their beds by my very command. From the blood of jackal queens and Dancing Stones were you made, to become slayers of demons in these Worlds Above and the Worlds Below."

Scowling, Lowenah railed contemptuously, "Necromancers you both are, given sight beyond sight! Blinded you have become because of arrogant minds and boastful hearts. 'I am so great and majestic, made with the finest of gold and ivory! Wonderful with power in my acts and deeds!' you say. Fools! Fools I say you are! You have forgotten whose wisdom went into the making of you. Only my boy there," she pointed at Zadar "had the insight to search me out and beg my intrusion. I was not far off from you, having arrived in Oros just this afternoon, and it was no secret that I was here. But, no, my counsel was not sought out by either of you - you being too full of yourselves to think my wisdom matters!"

Sarah begged Lowenah's forgiveness as her sword tumbled from her hand, clanging on the floor. She wheezed, struggling for breath while slowly sinking to her knees, tears running down her face mixing with blood slowly dripping from opened lips. Removing her helm and letting it fall, she looked at the ruin her hands had created and then at Lowenah. "Please forgive you wayward child," Sarah cried, and then began to cough, spattering blood as she spoke. Her head spinning, she leaned forward, falling onto outstretched hands watching, surprised, the crimson froth ooze from her mouth and spatter upon the floor.

Lowenah puzzled. Squeezing around Zadar and Trisha, she made her way to Sarah, pulling the woman's long, golden hair aside to make a close examination of matters, sighing sadly, "You have been kilt, too, or would be, had time and circumstances permitted it."

Growing sickly pale from fearful uncertainty, Sarah peered questioningly into Lowenah's eyes. Lowenah smiled grimly, "Be wary the stinger in the left hand when your opponent carries the power in the right. A knife, I believe hidden up a sleeve, has pierced armor and bone to lodge in your lung. Had the hilt not broken, leaving the blade wedged where it is, long ago you would have bled out..."

She looked over at Trisha, raising an eyebrow while nodding sadly, "And I would have been chastising her instead of you." Shaking her head, muttering, disgusted, "Foolish children... Foolish children..." Lowenah assisted Sarah to her feet, calling out to Zadar as she did, "Son, take your girl up and be off to my carriage. I've my hands full here."

Through his tears, Zadar dutifully obeyed, taking Trisha up in his arms. He looked around at the destruction, asking, "What about things here?"

Lowenah shook her head as she assisted Sarah to her feet. "Not to worry now. We've got to get these rascals some medical attention sooner than may be. I'll take care of this later."

Trisha roused just as Zadar looked into her face, his only inches from hers. What she saw pierced her heart in ways never before experienced. The woman knew she was broken badly, yet this man saw not her ruined flesh. He was staring into the depths of her soul, his love reaching out for the secret person who resided beyond the sensual, passionate, and erstwhile. This man loved her, was in love with her.

For the first time in her life, Trisha wanted to be held close, to be wrapped up in a man's arms - this man's arms - to be a woman for this man. Long-harbored feelings instantly fell away into forgetfulness. She no longer saw her body as a repository for a man's passion, but a vessel to gather a man's heart, and there to keep a little part of his soul to remember the cherished time together. A smile grew across Trisha's heart, a warm glow filling her body as she drifted off into a peaceful rest.

Wisdom is not easily gained, but it can be carelessly squandered. Tonight, wisdom had been won at a terrible cost, and Lowenah was going to make sure the lessons learned would be lasting. But now was not the time to dwell on that. There were so many things that needed doing and little time to accomplish them. The gray of sky's morning was gathering over the city. They must be far away from here before other eyes might chance upon them.

Sarah was groggy, but still managed to stumble along with Lowenah's help. By the time they arrived at the carriage, Zadar had already laid Trisha across the floor between the facing seats, and was busying with putting up its top and installing its storm curtains. Upon seeing them, he hurried over to help. "I believed you wanted privacy, so I put up the bonnet," he offered as they approached the carriage.

Lowenah smiled her approval. After assisting Sarah into the carriage, she asked Zadar to hurry back and retrieve the helm and weapons. "Be quick. I'll finish up here."

"What of the other...?" Zadar wondered. "I can..."

"Just what I asked for..." Lowenah commanded. "I need you with me. Now be quick."

As soon as Zadar had returned, the little carriage was off, zigzagging this way and that to avoid the clutter in the narrow street that took the party south, away from the city and into deserted countryside.

The sun was peeking over the eastern hills when the carriage finally rolled to a stop in a small grove of evergreen trees hidden behind a weathered rock outcropping. Zadar stepped from the carriage to see a silvery trade ship parked in the shadows of the cliff. A door ramp slowly opened in the ship's side. In moments, two silver-clothed figures with glowing, golden hair and faces that shone bright were carrying the injured warriors toward the ship.

Another handsome figure of a man emerged from the ship. Smiling, with arms outstretched, he approached Lowenah, offering friendly salutations before giving her a very affectionate embrace, which was heartily received with an additional kiss to the lips.

The man stepped back while hugging Lowenah's upper arms with his hands, grinning, "It looks to me that my ZoeStethos has had quite a night of it! I've already seen to business back in Oros." He then asked, half teasing, "Are you still up for this game, or would you rather steal away with me to more pleasant places?"

Lowenah did not reply to the man's question. Giving his forearm an affectionate squeeze, she introduced him to an astonished Zadar. "Ysuah, this is the child I have spoken so much about."

Ysuah's face beamed as he cupped Zadar's hand in his, giving it a manly shake. "Yes! Oh yes! So much like your father you are - at least in more innocent days. A pleasure...a pleasure it is to meet you at last!"

Zadar was dumbfounded hearing Ysuah's comment. He stuttered, "M... m... my fa... my father?" This was too much. First this person, Ysuah, then 'ZoeStethos' for Mother? Those were troubling enough, but 'like your father'? What was this all about?

Lowenah placed a finger to Zadar's lips, shushing him. "Time is not our friend this day. Later son, later..."

She turned to Ysuah. "My name is hidden to all save a few of my children. For my son, here, please teach him its secrets. As for the other? Another day, another day..."

Giving Zadar a kiss, Lowenah motioned that he go with Ysuah, warning, "Your traveling companion, Ysuah, will confess many secrets to you, but secrets they must remain. I am entrusting them to you because of your faithful loyalty to me over these many long ages of rebellion. Some tales will confuse you, riddles in the dark, but others will serve you well in future days. Do not ask for riddles answered that are not yet to be revealed. They will all arrive at their proper times."

Zadar promised he would be a loyal child. After kissing Lowenah again he hurried off with Ysuah. The ramp of the trade ship slowly closed. In seconds, the ship was little more than a silent speck on the horizon. Lowenah frowned, tired. This had been a long, troublesome night, and she, using little more than mortal powers, was very tired. Crawling into the carriage and flopping across one of the plush seats, she closed her eyes, sighing. "Karikia..." she sleepily whispered. The carriage started up with a sudden whirr. In moments, it was zipping away toward Palace City, a snoozing Maker of Worlds sprawled across a seat, her quiet, rhythmic snoring filling the cabin with its musical restfulness.

* * *

Ishtar splashed in the sudsy bathwater, singing a whimsical little tune while wiggling her toes in the steamy foam. The place was quiet tonight, the room beyond hers dark and silent. Gone were the flashing lights and half-naked man. Indeed, few had been the visitors since the girl's return. Oh yes, the couple claiming to be Hanna and her uncle dropped in from time to time, as well as a woman servant delivering some food and asking about her welfare, but no soldiers, much to her relief. Earlier she had peeked outside seeing the door was not barred, but chose to stay inside fearing trickery of some sort.

This was a very puzzling world Ishtar found herself in. When the woman servant was tasked with bringing the bathtub into the girl's room, the woman called 'Hanna' bent her back to give the servant a hand, also thanking her when they were finished. After that, she assisted the woman with fetching the bathwater. And the woman servant did not bow low when being spoken to, but responded freely without seeking permission. She must be a servant. Only a slave would go about naked to the waist.

And what of her room, the ever-burning fire and all the treasures made to fool her into thinking them to be hers? It made no sense. Why make a place look like her room when she could have been taken there to be held under guard? Yes, where was she? The forest and the animals, the machines without horses, the wingless birds in the sky...were the gods playing with her mind? This was all too strange to ponder.

Why no guards at the door? Wasn't she a highly prized prisoner? She breathed a sigh of relief to think that Treston officer had not returned. Half-forgotten memories that refused to wake made the girl's skin crawl with unease when she thought of him. Was he the reason her mother had not come to visit? But why? What made her so important to have the governor's chief officer bother with her?

Governor? Ishtar sat upright in the tub, eyes as big as saucers. She could recall the governor, see his face as he screamed abuses at someone, at her. What was this all about? Had the governor put this man, Treston, up to this mischief? What had she done that would be of interest to the governor? Something about her uncle came to mind, but what? She closed her eyes, trying to recall memories locked behind sealed doors, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Her heart intimated that this Treston held the key to unlock secrets hidden in the recesses of her mind.

"Oh, the bother!" Ishtar snorted. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about the governor and Treston. Tonight she would luxuriate in the wealth of the evening. A sudsy, warm bath and a full stomach...what more could the child ask for? The girl leaned back, closing her eyes, sinking neck-deep in the perfumed water, lavishing in its intoxicating bouquet as she drifted off to sleep.

Ishtar woke with a start, bolting upright in the tub. Something was amiss...she could feel it, an energy, a power both beautiful and terrifying. 'Take the treasure and depart this evil land. What is asked of you is too much.' What was the meaning of those words echoing through her mind? The girl trembled with unease. Straining every muscle in concentration, she searched the rooms for any possible sound. All was still, deathly still.

Cautiously, the child stood and silently stepped from the tub, creeping quietly toward the opened doorway. Peeking into the further room, she could see everything remained undisturbed. The light from her room cast itself across the small table, revealing a dinner bowl half filled with ripe berries. Some small creature must have been enjoying a late night feast, the girl's startled waking chasing it off. Well, it shouldn't have scared her that way!

Relieved, she turned back toward the glowing blaze. Stopping near the hearth, she spread her arms wide, tipping her head back, soaking in the fire's warmth on wet skin. 'Oh,' she mused to herself, 'why can't life always be this way, free of all encumbrances of mind and flesh? Just how wonderful it would be to remain this way forever!'

"I am a free woman!" Ishtar's eyes popped open in shock. Why had she nearly shouted out those dangerous words? Freedom was the possession of but a few, and she was not one of them. Such a declaration could get her imprisoned or possibly fed to the lions! She hoped no one had heard. Quiet... She gradually relaxed, eventually returning to reveling in the warmth of the blaze.

Something stirred in the other room. Ishtar froze, her heart jumping in fear. There was the sound of gentle footfall. She was sure of it. Someone was in the building. All fell quiet. Suddenly feeling naked, the girl grabbed a satin robe and slipped it on, her eyes searching desperately to see a movement, a shadow. Was Treston playing tricks on her or maybe the governor? She shuddered at the memory of his prurient gaze undressing her. Nothing, only silence...

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, the girl picked up a lighted candle and slowly made her way from her room into the darkness beyond. The candle's flickering flame revealed little, Ishtar poking into every dark corner to make sure no one was hiding there. Tiptoeing to the door, she chanced a look outside, braving to take a step onto the porch to get a good view up and down the street. Nothing...

Stepping back inside and gently closing the door, Ishtar turned, stopping up short as she nearly cried out. The light coming from her room was no longer that of the dancing fire. Oh yes, there was a golden light, but brighter, and it did not cast prancing shadows on the wall as the fire did.

She should run away, but to where? This might be a trick, but for what reason? The girl was already a prisoner here. Her jailers could do with her as they pleased. Why play silly games? It made no sense. As she stood there pondering all these mysteries, the light called out its seductive song, beckoning her to leave the darkness behind and bask in its glow.

Gathering her wits, she made her way through the opened doorway, stopping near the foot of the bed. Such a mysterious light! Its energy was everywhere yet nowhere. Again, memories from forgotten night dreams flooded the girl's mind. Somewhere she had seen this light before, its soothing radiance so healing yet puzzling. As if compelled by an unseen force, the girl went in a search to find the source of this beautiful blaze.

After digging first in this corner and then in that one, the child got down on hands and knees, searching under the bed. Something was so wonderfully strange and familiar about all this. She had done this before, rummaged about in an attempt to make this same discovery. The child paused. She could recollect a voice calling out to her while in its pursuit.

"Ishtar..." Panic gripped the girl. She slowly sat back on her knees. Someone was speaking, just like in her half-forgotten dreams.

"Please, my daughter, my blood. It is the one who loves you so."

Mother? No. No, it was not her mother's voice. Terrified, yet mesmerized, her hand over a pounding heart, Ishtar waited to hear the voice again.

"Ishtar, my lovely one, it is come the hour of the wine song."

It was such a beautiful voice, so hauntingly sweet, an angel's voice. Sudden fright raced through her body. It was told her that the Devil could turn himself into an angel of light. Was he or one of his machinations calling out to her? It might be so. Still, curiosity was getting the best of her. She must take a look at the person behind the voice.

Haltingly, the girl stood, her stare concentrated in the direction of the wall beyond her bed. As she built up courage to turn about and see whether it be demon or angel in her presence, a strange, tingling feeling circled the crown of her head, gradually drifting down through her neck and into her heart, there to set it ablaze with a pulsing beat as if another soul were entered to sing an enchanting love song.

"My child..." the voice whispered.

Closing her eyes, with clenched fists, Ishtar cautiously turned about. For what seemed an eternity, she faced whatever might be standing in the doorway, too terrified to open her eyes to see the fate waiting there. Eventually, curiosity overcame trepidation. Forcing unwilling eyelids opened, the girl stood aghast, staring into a placid face with two emerald green eyes passionately searching hers. Putting a hand to her mouth, screaming, the girl fell backward, crashing hard upon the bed.

Ishtar had steeled her heart to see a hideous demon beast with horns and bloodied fangs or possibly some evil trickster with sordid mischief on its mind, but not this, never this! Covering her face with her hands, she cried out in desperation as horrid visions flooded her mind, "Go away! Go away! You are not real, cannot be real!"

More abominable than the worst of her nightmares this monster was, its feminine beauty so divine that the child believed her heart was to burst. While Ishtar's soul pained with consuming, passionate desire, her head raced with grotesque nightmares and reawaking dreams of unspeakable tortures. Shaking in fear, she gradually lowered her hands, her heart craving to chance another look upon this woman creature divine. Tears streaming down her face, she sobbed, "You are not real.... You cannot be real... It cannot be so... It cannot be so! A dream is all you are. A dream, a dream I say..."

"A dream?" came the soft reply. "Yes, a dream... a dream who swore an oath to you so long ago. Across time and space we have journeyed to share this moment, to sing the wine song."

"Who...who are you?" Ishtar asked, timidly.

Stepping forward, the woman extended a hand. "My Lord, please, take this time the gift I offered you so long ago. Enjoy the reward for all your hard labors."

Ishtar was uncertain, but what else could she do? If she cried for help, who would arrive to give it? Besides, this person must be in league with them. She slowly stood and cautiously took a step toward this mesmerizing creature, again asking, "Who are you, and why do you call me 'lord'?"

The woman lowered her gaze, staring at the floor, a troubled expression growing on her face. "You are become a god, arrived to release us from our shame, for it was said to us long ago that the least would become great and the servants should gather their strength as mighty kings. You, my Lord, have arrived here to deliver us into a new day and return to us our lost glory."

Ishtar was only more confused by this woman's confessions. "This I do not understand! Why does the governor wish my assistance in anything at all? Does he not already wield the greatest of armies the world has ever seen? Besides, a woman stands no place near the throne of power in this world."

The woman cocked her head in bewilderment, puzzling over Ishtar's surprising response, asking, "Do you not yet know where you are?"

Ishtar frowned, "Do you play tricks with me? A prisoner I am, the governor's private guard watching over this place. Secreted away during a poisoned sleep, I was delivered to this strange world, and only lying riddles and bewitching visions have I witnessed since arriving. You tell me where I am and who you are so that this least one may make an honest reply to you."

So the child did not know where she was. This complicated matters, the woman expecting to be greeted by welcoming arms. What did the girl know? "Do you not remember our last meeting?"

The face Ishtar recalled, but where and when? Searching her thoughts, she slowly nodded. "A dark, foreboding place I recall - terrible and evil a place it was. Your face I see, you standing in the midst of that ruin, this strange light shining all about me and...and it was also glowing within you. But whether a person fair or foul you are, I do not recall."

The woman slowly nodded with understanding. "You ask me who I am. This same question was on your lips at our last meeting. I said then, 'the Child of Pain, for with birth pangs this world conceived me'. So my name I cursed and delivered to pits of dense darkness, taking up the blade of vengeance to salve my tormented soul. 'Darla', the gryphon's mistress, a name of my choosing is what I became, offering up my virginity to the demons of war, my breasts giving suck to the ever-hungry pits of Sheol."

As Darla confessed long-hidden secrets, her breath drifted cold upon the evening air, chilling Ishtar's flesh while burning her heart with pity's remorse. Clouds of doubt still swirled about in the girl's head, but no longer did she believe this Darla woman to be an agent of evil. Only an honest soul could reveal such anguish, the longing for acceptance being shouted out to the heavens by every word coming from her lips, while the pain of wistful hope denied seeped from her every silent expression. If this was truly so, then why the horrid visions racing about in the girl's head when she peered into the face of this holy creature?

Seeing Ishtar's hesitance and bewilderment, Darla lifted a hand, pointing a finger. "On a day so wickedly dark we both wish to forget its existence, a purse of gold and a gift of freedom I offered to you... and you refused them both, choosing instead a road that eventually led you to this place. Many people you saved on that day, yet a bitter price paid. I am come this day to offer you what little I can. No gold do I have, but for freedom from the chains that bind your mind and heart, I seek to provide you release."

Confused, Ishtar asked, "My mother...will you reveal to me where she is and why she has not come to visit me?"

Darla frowned, making a cryptic reply. "You, alone, know these answers although they hide in deep shadows within your soul. Together we can search to find where she is and why you have journeyed far to this place. Memories you have that must awake before the chains that bind you will shatter. Better it is that two companions travel such a road, companions sharing each others' dreams and visions."

Pressing the issue, Ishtar asked, "So you do know my mother and of her whereabouts? Tell me if you know."

Closing her eyes so as to not reveal secrets, Darla nodded as she did, adding, "Your mother and your father I have known, or known of. So much they have loved you, still do. In secret places your mother resides for the moment, safe from the harm of any man or beast."

"Then where is she?!" Ishtar demanded, not appreciating this riddling with her at all. "And when will I be taken to her?"

Paying little heed to the girl's headstrong attitude, Darla quietly answered, "When Gradian's Clock chimes on glory's hour then shall all the gods gather the sojourners together to ride triumphantly through the holy city. The answers to your questions lay locked within your mind. You are your own riddler, because any man awake would already know the answer. Take my hand and I shall help you unlock what remains sequestered behind chained and bolted doors. Choose quickly, for the hour is growing late and the magic of this place will soon sleep in restful forgetfulness."

It was Ishtar's turn to frown. This game was definitely not to her liking. She wanted simple, quick answers with easy, simple replies. Instead, she was receiving a chorus of sweet, musical chatter that made little sense to her at all. But what else was there for it? If this Darla woman was being honest with her - and she believed it to be so - the girl must play the game the woman's way.

Shrugging in surrender, Ishtar answered, "You speak with mystery upon mystery, witching hours, magic clocks and holy cities...all too confusing, all too confusing. But seeing you have the upper hand, I will trust that you are truthing me. What must I do to satisfy your whims?"

Darla ignored Ishtar's final statement and smiled while sweeping her hand toward the foot of the bed. "First, please, clothe yourself with the garments I have delivered to my Lord this night."

Ishtar was shocked speechless as she turned and stared down, transfixed, upon a beautiful sleeveless gown spread out before her. Where did it come from? She had not noticed it until this moment. Then her eyes were drawn to two brooches festooning the gown's shoulder straps.

"Here," Darla stepped forward, picking up the gown, "come here and I will assist my Lord with this."

Ishtar did not move.

Holding the gown with both hands, her eyes requesting the girl to come along, Darla offered, "I shall tell my Lord a tale of wonder worth hearing if she will favor me with my request."

Although hesitating at first, Ishtar's desire to hear a mysterious story was too great to pass up. While Darla assisted the girl off with her robe and on with the gown, bejeweling her, doing up her hair and finally applying the most delicate of makeup, she went on to weave her tale.

"There was a child born in a distant land at a faraway time, a child so beautiful that the very gods fell in love with her. Hiding in the clouds, they watched with pleasure as the child grew into a woman divine, her beauty having grown great also within her heart. This did not please everyone. Others hiding in shadowy places became angry, seeking a convenient time to do the child mischief.

"Eventually the hour of opportunity arrived. The demon gods swept the world with their evil breath, turning the hearts of men wicked so that terrible deeds they did to innocent people who loved the Maker of Worlds. In those days there was a man, a great leader among his people, who was like a father to this child...for the child's father was no more. This man was imprisoned by the rulers of that world because they feared the things he spoke. These rulers conspired together to bring this man and all his people to ruin. So they took the child and delivered her up to the crowds in order to make the man call down evil upon the Maker of Worlds with oaths and curses. But the girl refused to play the Devil's game, instead bringing shame upon the world of men and destruction upon herself."

Ishtar asked, excited, "What did she do? Tell me, what did she do?"

Darla warned her not to speak as she carefully applied red balm to the girl's lips. "Long is the tale if I revealed it all to you. War broke out in the Heavens, blood was shed and gods, good and evil, fell to sword and arrow. In the end, the child was delivered up to the good victors who swaddled her in silken wraps and set her adrift upon the seas of Time. But that part of the tale I must save for another day. Now allow me to go on.

"While the child slept upon Gradian's Ocean, the world of her day slipped under the ever-shifting sands. Kingdoms rose and fell, men were born, grew up, grew old, and passed on, over and over, until the child's city lay in dust and ruins, its history cloaked in mystery and myths. The selfless deeds of the child, too, were forgotten by men, but not by the gods who waited anxiously upon the witching hour.

"When the child finally waked, she found herself residing in a strange land far from home. Afraid she was because she refused to believe what happened to her, keeping it locked deep within her mind. She refused to believe that Death had ruled as king over her flesh. Oh yes, others had become slaves to it, but not her! No indeed! It was impossible to believe that someone could escape death. It was so final, a king allowing no escape from his prison."

Ishtar interrupted, laughing, "How foolish a child..." She then looked at Darla, asking, "Do you believe, as I do that death has no hold on a person, a promise my God has given those who pass away in it?"

Darla smiled, nodding that she did.

Wondering, Ishtar asked, "So, the child, did she finally accept that death had found her door, and that she stood upon the edge of a new world?"

Grinning, Darla softly cooed, her warm breath drifting across Ishtar's cheek, "That is the part of the tale I cannot tell you. We must discover it together." She turned Ishtar about, clasping the girl's upper arms, studying her handiwork. Satisfied, she encouraged they be away. "Come, let's discover many secrets together."

Ishtar paused, focusing attention upon this woman creature calling herself 'Darla'. She studied the woman as though noticing her for the first time. How radiantly entrancing this Darla person was! Dressed in the same attire as she was, the silky gown left little to the imagination. The woman's form was breathless in beauty, her face that of a goddess, her eyes fathomless, and her gaze passionate.

Ishtar found troubling feelings welling up from deep within her soul. So much she wanted to touch Darla's flawless skin, kiss her ruby-red, painted lips, and to hold this delightful creature close to her bosom. So wrong, it was so wrong in the girl's mind! Never had she been with a man, yet fantasizing such encounters filled many of her haunting dreams. Troubling over it so, at this very moment she found those erotic desires exploding within her heart for Darla, her body trembling with excited want to have this woman. She fought desperately against the overwhelming desire to pull Darla's gown from off her shoulders and suckle the woman's rapturous breasts.

Darla understood well the sensual emotions coursing through the girl's body. Had she not also surrendered her passions up to her sisters countless times, finding satisfaction fulfilled in their tender, feminine touches? She, too, wanted to romance this person, but not through the seduction of an innocent spirit. Still lost Ishtar was, recalling the ways of licentious perverts who sought sensuous gratification at any cost to heart and soul. Old ways must depart in order for new understandings to emerge...revelations that love's passion is delivered first to the heart and spirit and then its acts are carried out in the flesh.

Romancing the flesh without first fulfilling the needs of heart and spirit paled into nothingness compared to when flesh and heart sang out joyously together. First she and Ishtar must fall in love – well, Ishtar must fall in love with her, Darla having done so with the girl many ages ago. Then Ishtar would see and understand. When that hour arrived, Darla would know, but this was not the hour.

Breaking Ishtar's spell, Darla crooned, "Lovely one, we must hurry if the moody sun we are to escape this day. For should he find us too soon, there will be no magic."

The spell was broken for the moment, Ishtar sighing with disappointed relief as her cravings gradually subsided. Accepting Darla's hand, she agreed to go. "So I will learn of my mother's whereabouts if I journey with you? You said it would be so."
Darla waxed coy, not wishing to promise what she could not deliver. "As I said, you have the power to do so. I am merely your guide to assist with that and other discoveries."

Hand in hand, the two walked out into the cool of late evening darkness. Asleep the moon had gone some hours before, but stars twinkled brightly in the clear, black expanse. Ishtar searched the sky, quizzical expressions contorting her face. "What of the constellations? I cannot tell times or seasons, for there are none of them to be found. What witchery is at work here?"

Darla squeezed Ishtar's hand while softly sweeping her fingers through the girl's hair. "Witchery? No, it is part of the magic that I shall help you discover this night. Times and seasons are not forgotten here, nor are winter and summer, planting rains and dry, fall harvests. Much the same as your home it is, but winters are much colder here, with snow aplenty, icicles, frozen lakes, and... and it is such a fun place to be in winter!"

"Snow?" Ishtar asked, confused. "Like the snow that traders bring down to the city from distant mountains? Are we in those distant mountains that are filled with myth and magic?"

Darla laughed. It felt good to laugh, to laugh at sweet innocence. She had forgotten what innocence was, her innocence destroyed with her rape at the hands of a trusted companion turned traitor. That was so long ago, she being only of eight summers at the time. Secret she was concerning the matter, sharing the traumatic experience with no one, fearing, she guessed, that somehow they would accuse her of being a naughty child. After all, she was always being accused of being a naughty child.

So much like herself this Ishtar was, a misfit born into a strange world with no home to return to, delivered here to do deeds no child should be expected to do. But the girl did have pleasant memories from a carefree childhood past. These memories would help soften the trauma of the horrid visions when they finally awoke, as they must this night. How much Darla wished she had carefree childhood memories to cloak her foul nightmares. She smiled sadly, hoping the magic of the wine might make some of Ishtar's carefree recollections her own.

Forcing a smile, Darla answered, "You truly are in distant mountains that may well be filled with magic, but not the ones you speak of. Further from home you are than you may think at the moment, yet also much closer than you might believe."

Ishtar puzzled over Darla's cryptic answer, but said nothing. As they walked toward the street, the soft, golden glow of its lights filtering through the tall, leafy trees lining the curbs, the girl questioned some of her other experiences since arriving in this place. "I did see that Treston officer, I did. Has he journeyed here to this distant land also? Why? He orders others about, and they call him 'lord'. How free am I really if the governor still rules these worlds?"

Looking down in thought, Darla pondered the question. 'Treston? Treston?' She made acquaintance with the man just this morning - a fine fellow, she taking to him immediately. Treston had confessed his trepidations regarding Ishtar, and his deep, heartfelt, nearly worshipful feelings for her. Ishtar would not understand, not at the moment. Why, she did not even remember her final hours, much of it spent with the man.

"Treston?" She had to think quickly. "It is a very long story, but the short of it is this. Treston arrived here a while ago on a mission of sorts, at the behest of our ruler. Fearing for your safety, his assistance was requested, the feeling being that you might trust to the powers of your city and follow his direction. Sorry to have fooled you. In this land, the governor has no authority. Treston was doing us a favor."

Ishtar sputtered contemptuously, "Dread walks in the footsteps of that man! Evil he is or at least evil are the deeds he does! People speak his name in whispers, fearing his wrath should the mood come upon him. The governor is wicked, but Treston is evil!"

Darla stopped, looking up at a street lamp they were passing under, asking, "Was it not your uncle's friend, Paul, who spoke of a man's ability to change his being from that of evil to that of good? Why, I understand that Paul, himself, had such an experience."

Ishtar disagreed about Treston. "A leopard does not change it spots...at least overnight! Treston's cruelty is well known. He's a murdering bastard of a man!"

Darla nodded with understanding. "What you say of a leopard is correct, yet Paul was also a murderer by his own confession, and he changed his spots in one day, so to speak."

Ishtar agreed, countering, "With God, anything is possible. Our Lord stepped in to change Paul, and for an important reason. Treston's had no divine encounters that I know of. What would God want with him? Besides, he gives me the creeps."

Darla shrugged. Wishing not to argue, she asked a rhetorical question. "What would God want with any of us? All that you say may well have been true regarding the fellow once, but I do believe he is a changed man. And more than a day he's had to change."

Ishtar harrumphed, asking, "How can that be?"

"Because, my lovely one," Darla peered deeply into Ishtar's eyes, "a long enough time you have slept for this man to have changed."

"Impossible!" Ishtar fussed.

Darla disagreed. "A strange land you have been delivered to that is many days' journey from your home, and you have no waking memory of it. Treston, too, has had many days to journey here. Time there has been aplenty for him to have become a different sort of fellow."

Ishtar did not want to discuss Treston anymore. She changed the subject. "How long have I slept, and... and what were those little monkey monsters that attacked me in the woods?"

Darla grinned, "Your last question I can answer. The first you must wait on for a little while longer. Those monkey monsters are called, in our tongue, 'duoreachees'. They are monkey-like in many ways, quite curious, and can be very friendly little creatures. Many of my kind make pets of them. They can become nasty little critters if they feel threatened. Those fangs can bite deep." She rubbed her arm as though recalling an unpleasant encounter with one once.

The woman looked in the direction of the woods. "I was informed that they took to a woman who sang night songs to them. 'Chasileah' is her name, sings such enchanting songs. They trust her." Casting her gaze back to Ishtar, she explained, "A duoreachee can be a loyal little creature. When you gain its trust, no more faithful a companion can you find. Should you desire, we can journey into the woods at some future time in search of the little animals."

Ishtar thanked Darla for her offer, quickly declining for the moment, the very thought of that foreboding forest giving her goose bumps. Picking up the pace, Darla hustled them along, eventually leaving the restful glow of the streetlamps far behind. In time, they came to a grove of majestic maples. Darla guided the girl into the blackness under the leafy expanse of the trees, leading her toward the glow of a flickering lantern sitting upon a table-shaped, weathered granite boulder with a flat, polished surface.

Darla encouraged Ishtar to sit on one of the stone benches at the table, disappearing into the darkness to quickly return with an old leather bag. Carefully placing it on the table, she sat down beside the girl. Wide-eyed, Ishtar stared, wondering as Darla's fingers gradually loosened the straps keeping secret the bag's contents. Becoming impatient, she reached over to assist.

Darla stopped her, taking her hand, cautioning, "Please, this is very fragile. Only today have I retrieved this treasure from deep within the caves under my home city. Since our last parting, I have been preparing this - a promise I long ago gave to you."

Ishtar was aghast. "This aged purse must be a hundred years old! I do not remember well our meeting, but I do recall it to be not so very long ago. Tell me truthfully, what is this all about?"

The brittle, dry leather straps finally surrendered their hold, allowing Darla to open the cover flap on the bag. She reached in, retrieving a crystal flask. Holding it up so that the light would reflect the shimmering red liquid sealed within, she replied, "Answer all your questions I will, but first we must share a sip of this drink."

She removed two cut crystal goblets, both trimmed in gold and chrysolite and bejeweled with diamonds and sapphires. Darla poured generous portions into each and then offered one to Ishtar. "It is a strong, sweet drink. Tip it back and let it drain down your throat."

Ishtar hesitated. Darla encouraged her to take it and drink, emptying hers, demonstrating how it was to be done. Setting the empty goblet down, she remarked, "Rare this elixir is, and used only in celebration with close companions. It is a powerful potion for mind and spirit, freeing the heart to see what lies beyond waking thoughts. Please, drink this up, for our magic must begin soon."

The honest sincerity in Darla's face just made Ishtar pick up the goblet. Its pungent bouquet excited her senses, a musty fragrance like that of sweet decay hitting the nostrils when opening an aged chest filled with delightful treasures. With Darla's continued prompting, she tipped her head back and let the drink slowly trickle down her throat, emptying the goblet. Warm it was to the body, its heat racing through her and up into her head. There it began to swirl about, making Ishtar feel pleasantly light-headed, but it cleared her mind and heart of any anxious trepidation.

"So delicious! This is so delicious!" Ishtar exclaimed. "Never have I tasted wine like this before."

Darla removed the goblet from Ishtar's hand, placing it back in the old leather bag. "What you drank, my Love, is not wine, or wine as you have ever known it." She opened the bottle again and filled the one remaining goblet. This time, though, she did not drink down the liquid, but instead swirled it about in her mouth before returning it to the goblet.

"As I have done, do the same." Darla told Ishtar. "Do not swallow the potion we are making. Do as I did and return the mixture to the goblet."

The drink was already having a mellowing effect on the girl. Strange, though, for unlike wine's effect, her growing lightheadedness did not cloud her mind. Indeed, it felt as if her mind had waked as never before. Her clarity of thought and sense were acute. With weak, shaky hands, the girl took the goblet, not caring what had been already done with it. She struggled not to swallow the bewitching drink, although some accidentally did trickle down her throat. In the end, she did return most of it to the goblet.

Taking the goblet from trembling fingers, Darla sat it down on the granite table. Looking back at Ishtar, she explained, "Now we must wait...wait for the right moment for the mixture to mature, for the drunken state to consume us. So while we wait, if you wish, I will tell you many things."

Ishtar could feel the drug's effect rapidly consuming her body, but her mind was frightfully awake. "Ple..a..s..e," she slurred.

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

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

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

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

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

Ishtar managed to ask, "How old is it?"

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

Ishtar interrupted, surprising Darla who believed the girl should be in a complete stupor by now. The child's constitution or possible curiosity was greater than she had anticipated. "So..." she asked, "this wine is a hundred years old?"

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

Ishtar said nothing, nodding, letting Darla continue.

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

Ishtar's eyes bulged with excitement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ishtar's face clouded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Tereobathos began to feel the presence of a greater Bathos - the Deep One Without Measure - someone much older. This Bathos called itself 'Olam', the 'Everlasting One'. From Olam came strange, bewildering feelings that took joy away from the wonderful things abounding in this inner world.

The feelings of Olam were that of what some might call 'loneliness', yet there were no words or thoughts for loneliness, only the feelings that troubled Olam. Eventually, Olam became very busy at making other living Bathos - deep ones, Olam bestowing every Bathos with a special name. In time, countless Bathos played in the fields of hypnotic energy, easing Olam's troubling feelings a bit.

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

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

Olam eventually became sad and began to withdraw from the outer universe. The Bathos came close to Olam and offered whatever comfort they could. They loved Olam very much, yet none could understand what was making Olam sad, only Tereobathos, but Tereobathos could only observe, having no speech given it.

And Olam's bright glow faded as it focused inwardly, searching for answers to its loneliness. The Bathos came to Olam, questioning what was being done. When Olam explained to them what the desire was, the Bathos would laugh and say that it could not be done, but Olam refused to listen. For ages beyond measure, Olam experimented, attempting to do what the Bathos said was impossible. If tears had existed at that time, Olam would have shed an ocean full.

Then, one day long into ages new, Olam's glorious glow erupted to shine blindingly again. The Bathos came close to discover what was causing Olam's great excitement. When the matter was revealed, the Bathos cried out joyfully, bestowing a new name upon Olam. Tereobathos strained its senses to hear this name, but secreted from it the name remained. Olam cried out in joy, for it was a very beautiful name, indeed.

And Olam, along with many of the Bathos, grew very, very, busy designing and building an extremely complex machine. When finished, Olam took some of its living energy from within and infused it into the machine. The machine sprang to life, filling the void with blazings of fire that shot ever this way and that until the edge beyond the void could not be seen. Then Tereobathos began to see a division between the blazing fires until web upon web and measuring line upon measuring line filled the darkness.

Upon these immeasurable webs, new fires began to burn, scattering this way and that across their respective webs. As the dancing flames raced about, the webs began to fade from sight until but three remained to be seen, and to the web in the middle Olam and the Bathos retreated, Tereobathos following close behind. They soon came to a fiery sphere, but this one a living machine of sorts. The machine Olam called a 'planet' – oh, but a very special planet, far different from the others Tereobathos could see. This was the planet on which Olam and the Bathos would invent and build countless, wonderful treasures that would then be cast or placed into the many other webs, including the two webs that could yet be seen by Tereobathos.

Tereobathos continued to watch in awe until it saw Olam gather up a ball of static energy and pitch it into the first of the two other webs. A blinding explosion ensued, flooding across the web until its entire surface was filled to overflowing with fitful flames of fire. Olam and the Bathos rose up from the surface of the planet in the middle web and darted away to the first web, exploring here and there their handiwork. In time, they came to a fiery ball of energy, and Olam saw that it was good.

Now Olam and the others, including Tereobathos, dove deep into the fires of the flaming ball, until at its very core the company arrived. There, a chorus of boisterous music caused a growing agitation within the ball of fire. Soon great chunks of fire were being cast out hither and thither, some to slowly fall back into the burning ball, but others to be set adrift until being locked in the ball's invisible grip. Tereobathos lifted itself up to the ball's tumultuous surface, staring out in wonder at the glowing fires far off in the sky.

When Olam and the others arrived on the surface, why, the distant fires were no more, just hard, barren rocks spinning about this giant fireball at their center. At Olam's signal, everyone departed for one particular rock. Upon reaching it, the Bathos broke out in chorus, celebrating the marvelous machine that Olam had created. They then hurried away to deliver the many inventions harbored upon the planet in the middle web. Meanwhile, Olam became busy preparing the rock for all the inventions.

Olam looked around and found a mountain standing alone in the middle of a broad, flat plain. Upon the mountain, there was built a giant palace with many walled enclosures round about. To this palace the Bathos delivered the countless inventions from the middle web. Soon the rock was covered with blue skies, deep, watery expanses, and green-covered hills and valleys. In time, there were creatures aplenty filling the seas, birds floating high in the sky, and every variety of beasts roaming about upon the land.

When all the Bathos saw how pleased Olam was over all their handiwork, they broke out into musical refrains that echoed upon the air. Olam rose up over the Bathos, settling down upon the palace ramparts. There awoke within Olam a blinding blaze, the raging inferno enveloping Olam's golden sphere. When the excited flames subsided, Tereobathos saw a person in womanly form standing where Olam had been.

The person in womanly form spread her feet and arms wide, and for the first time uttered speech from a mouth. The womanly form cried out a new name for herself. "I am become AsahIsEnos (IamDamOdem, Lit: 'I am man', pronounced in the common tongue 'Lowenah'.). From me will come the Adam, the geber and issah, to fill this world with my own blood."

The Bathos gathered around AsahIsEnos in elated excitement and as they sang songs of rapturous melody, a cloud shrouded them in mist. When the cloud faded away, why, there stood AsahIsEnos, her hands resting upon a swelled belly. The cloud returned, enveloping everyone.

When it had departed, Tereobathos found that the company was standing high upon a grassy hillock looking off toward the rising sun. As Tereobathos watched in amazement, over the rise came running a little blonde-haired boy with ocean-blue eyes. Then there came a child's cry, and a little girl with flowing silver locks and smoky-gray eyes came on the run, calling for the boy to wait for her. Then there came another and then another, until the entire land was filled to overflowing with little children. As the children grew into manhood and womanhood, more and more little children continued to come on a run over the rise.

In time, there came over the rise a child with golden-blonde tresses, with eyes rich in depths of inquisitive blue, a misfit of sorts because full of questions she was. AsahIsEnos took a special liking to the child because the child was so different, filled with a happy contagion that AsahIsEnos had so long searched for in her other children. The child was taken up in AsahIsEnos' arms and taught in all the ways of the Bathos – the Way of the North. As the child was swept away into womanhood, she was delivered to the feet of the ancient and wise in hopes that her contagion would also infect them, and upon many did this contagion come.

Then many more ages passed. And to the second web came the Bathos, eventually AsahIsEnos and her children. Into the second web was power of life's creation delivered until it, too, was filled with teeming oceans, skies, and fields. It was then that AsahIsEnos said to her children, 'Let us make children in our image, for our enjoyment.' But secret AsahIsEnos kept the powers this new creation was to have - that these new creatures, made in their image, would make for themselves offspring in the same way as the animals. For AsahIsEnos had finally succeeded in accomplishing her greatest dream...to give to her children the gift of making life in their image.

Yet AsahIsEnos wished to teach her older children humility, so she gave, first, to the children of the second web, the power to procreate in their exact likeness, keeping secret that soon she would bestow the same gift upon her older children. Meanwhile, she gave birth to even more children.

In time, AsahIsEnos delivered into the first web a daughter with long, black hair and hauntingly deep emerald green eyes. And she lifted up the child to her breasts to nurse the child, giving her the name, 'my beautiful ewe'. Well, upon seeing the baby child, the girl with the happy contagion fell in love with the baby, and the child fell in love with the girl, snuggling also at the girl's breasts.

As Tereobathos looked on - for only could she witness the events about her – AsahIsEnos prepared for her children a great celebration as she unveiled all of marvels found in the second web, and the secret of birthing she disclosed at that time. Then, bringing the golden-haired girl up before all the children, AsahIsEnos gave to the girl all the lands in the second web as a gift to her. Yet, not everyone celebrated.

A dark, fearsome shadow grew across the countenance of the oldest of all the children, he harboring jealousy over the gifts given. He could see the power of reproduction, envisioning a world, a universe, filled with people praising his name. After all, had he not designed many of the wonderful things in this world? The oldest went off sulking, scheming up mischief in order to take the gift away from the girl and possess it for himself.

In time, AsahIsEnos gave birth to another child, a boy with dark, wavy hair and large hazel eyes. Beautiful the boy was and different – oh, so different, but in what ways AsahIsEnos kept secret in her heart.

Suddenly the rage of the eldest child exploded across all the worlds of men and beasts. He reached out and struck, with the intent to destroy the golden-haired girl to whom the gifts of the second web were given. Chaos began its supreme rule over all the mortal elements. The black-haired girl-child was pitched into madness, her cries of agony reaching across time and space. When she awoke from her fitful dreams, why, there was Chaos living within her. She became a child skulking about in the shadows, avoiding the day while haunting the night. Others were fearful of her for they saw someone residing behind her eyes, and heard cryptic, dark, foreboding prophecies echoing from a voice within.

Still, the little dark-haired child grew up strong, loving AsahIsEnos with a love deeper than any of AsahIsEnos' other children. She, along with her youngest of siblings, took up the sword of vengeance to return to their mother what the oldest of her children had stolen. Long were the wars and many the battles, yet the vigilance of these two people did not waver, their righteous indignation only growing stronger as time passed.

In the second web, the ages of men came and went, kingdoms rose and fell, and rose and fell again and again. In time, there was a maiden born with copper-red hair and disposition to match. The maiden grew into womanhood, beautiful in appearance and charming in tongue, when she chose to do so. Her uncle and his God she fell in love with, lifting up her voice in praise of AsahIsEnos in the same manner of the Bathos. But the Demons of Darkness hated the girl, finally deciding to bring her to a finish in a horrendous manner.

So it came to be that a chief among the demons, known as 'Zeus' among men, but 'Legion' to his demonic kindred, lifted his arm to bring this girl and her uncle to ruin, but he did not succeed, for the dark-haired child lifted her sword and charged the enemy's gate and, by her own destruction, delivered the girl to lands far from the evil of her world.

Tereobathos stared in amazement upon seeing the maiden lifted up to glory and set down upon a mountaintop. There a silver-haired woman with smoky-gray eyes kneeled before her, handing the maiden a sword. The woman begged, 'Please, my Lord, take from me this gift, my own blade. Lead my armies to the glory promised us. Give back to us what has been stolen. Return to us our virginity. Restore to us our honor.'

At that instant, the sun broke over the rim of the distant mountains, shattering the dream share of the blood grape. Ishtar's eyes popped open, wide-awake, staring into Darla's alert, surprised face. For the first time, the girl felt the softness of Darla's tongue in her mouth, the pleasant residue of the lingering wine exciting her senses. Darla slowly sat back, staring, perplexed, at Ishtar who was staring back in growing disappointment at losing the woman's passionate embrace.

Oh the kiss, that wonderful, sinful kiss! Ishtar could think of little else as her body cried out for more of Darla's sensuous touches. On the other hand, Darla was just beginning to fathom the visions of the dream share. Taking Ishtar by the shoulders, she exclaimed, "Mother's been busy with you! The wine opens hidden vaults to memories one already possesses, but not to knowledge untold."

Ishtar argued that she knew nothing of the final dream, she as surprised as her companion. The girl blushed thinking about her amorous feelings for this woman sitting beside her. Those feelings suddenly turned to growing panic. She fell to the ground upon her knees and began to beg, wailing, "Forgive me, my Lord, for an angel of God I have dared to touch and long for in an evil way! Spare, please, this child of wrath and destruction. In sin my mother conceived me. Please forgive this wayward child..."

Darla reached out, assisting Ishtar up while she, too, stood. The two women embraced, Darla singing sweet love songs to the weeping child. When the tears subsided, Darla softly echoed sentiments of her own. "Oh my darling one, like a mother, sister, lover I am to you. Forever one we are, no power existing that is great enough to break the chains binding us eternally."

Ishtar sobbed, dejected, "But you are an angel, and I...I am just a foolish little child."

Darla mused, "A little child? Maybe... Yet in this world - my world - which is now also yours, only the souls of angels and Immortals may reside. You then, must also be an angel of sorts, unless you are an Immortal, and I do not think that is the case, yet."

She then cupped Ishtar's face in her hands, giving the girl a tender kiss on her lips. "I am your servant to assist you in whatever way I can to make your stay here as pleasant as may be, at least for a little while. The hour is coming when we must both face the Dragon again, you in your way, and me in mine. Until then, whatever is your pleasure..."

Ishtar reached up, resting a hand on one of Darla's breasts. Pulling it back in surprise, she found her fingers wet, a soaking stain growing on the gown. Darla was shocked by the girl's expression, and then she felt it. Looking down while lifting the shirt of her gown, she saw milk oozing from her nipples.

"Impossible!" Darla muttered, perplexed.

Ishtar did not feel the same. She reached up, squeezing the woman's round, firm bosom, her eyes revealing the rising passion in her heart. "Whatever I want is for you to come back to my room and share with me so many pleasant dreams and memories. Give me the pleasure, please, of a womanly touch so that my heart does not erupt in disappointment. Let my lips taste your lips, my tongue refresh itself with the sweetness of your life-giving elixir. Wake my desires in your loving arms. Teach me what it means to be an angel."

Though surprised at first by Ishtar's amorous request, Darla did not hesitate to comply. Together, arm in arm, the two retreated to the quiet of hidden rooms, this time bolting the doors securely behind them.

* * *

Summer was waxing delightful, filling the valleys west of the Silent Tombs with a lazy, warm breeze and the chirping of flocks of songbirds. The orchards of fruit trees hung pregnant with a rich bounty of their still unripe delights. In a few weeks, a rewarding harvest would fill the larders of Palace City, providing a tasty reward to please the palate during the coming cold, winter months.

Lowenah lifted a hand, lovingly stroking a green fruit as though it was darling child. "There, there, my little one. Grow for me and I will reward you with a royal seat at my banquet table."

The sound of footfall moving through tall grasses drew Lowenah's attention away from the fruit and toward the person approaching. Lowenah grinned, "My Tolohe, I feared you would not make it. So much I've wished for your company this day and for so many other days."

Tolohe took Lowenah's hand. "My Meter, could your child ever forget you? My heart pines whenever I am away from you. So close you are to me that you and I are one." She raised an eyebrow. "Still, I do not believe your wistful fears at all. Do not play the innocent child with me. As I said, are we not one?"

Lowenah laughed, "True, true, I did not doubt your arrival, but I still longed for it like one does for the light of day during a dark, winter night."

After giving each other a tender kiss and warm embrace, the two began to wander through the endless orchards. At length, Tolohe took Lowenah's hand, looking deeply into her eyes, observing, "You speak of lighthearted and frivolous matters. Others may be fooled by such casual speech, but not me. You heart sings not the melody of a bright summer day but that of distress and remorse. Tell, please, your daughter what weighs so heavily upon you."

Lowenah looked down sadly, playing with her fingers. "Never could I keep a secret from you, could I? Yet easy was it for you to hide your own pain from me. Foolish thing I was, wasn't I? You deserved better, you know. Your father I refused to listen to. Had I? Well, I guess we'll never know."

"It is all in the past, my Meter," Tolohe replied. "Innocent we all were in those days. So I ask again, what weighs so heavily upon my Meter's heart?"

Reaching up and fondling a nearby green apple, Lowenah sighed, "This will be the last harvest from these orchards. Already the axe lies beside the tree. Soon there will come another war, this one bigger than any before it. All the land for as far as your eye can see will become a home for so many of my children. Ever grows the tentacles of the Silent Tombs until EdenEsonbar will become known only as the 'Land of the Dead'."

Tolohe sadly nodded, "It is worth the cost, for I see that through their death shall the rebirth of this universe arrive."

Lowenah looked up into Tolohe's face, asking, "Do you count same the value of your own life, for I have seen its demise should Shiloh succeed to glory."

Frowning, Tolohe replied, "Already the crow calls my name. It is as you have confessed to me, better by the sword stroke than the ever-growing cancer. By the blade have I been weaned, come to womanhood, given birth and seen my children die. Better my lover to strike my soul into death than the siren's fatal music."

Squeezing her mother's hand, smiling sweetly, Tolohe continued, "Not even the Maker of All Things can stop the chiming of Gradian's Clock. Shall we pander to sadness and remorse while the sun floats high in the sky and summer's love songs waft upon the breeze?"

Agreeing, Lowenah pulled a green fruit from a tree. "Can you come visit me when the harvest is in its full? It would be so grand to have you by my side in that hour of celebration."

Frowning, Tolohe patted Lowenah's hand. "The fall...the fall...where shall we be when the hour of summer ends? How can one promise something when even the Cherubs know not what the future will bring? The fall may as well be on the other side of the universe. Soon I shall step through the looking glass, and then my returning will be so uncertain."

"Well, if that should be the case," Lowenah held the green fruit high in opened hand, "then we must celebrate the fall harvest now." In moments, there was a fat, red, luscious delight sitting upon Lowenah's palm.

Splitting the fruit in two, she gave half to Tolohe. "There," she happily declared, "we shall enjoy the first fruits of fall, just you and me together."

It was such a beautiful day, too beautiful to have it wasted upon sullen and morose feelings. Lowenah and Tolohe became little children again, playing and frolicking through the tree-filled fields, chasing dragonflies and catching grasshoppers. So much fun it was to be forgetfully carefree, even if it could only be for an hour or a day.

As the sun settled into the western sky, the two found themselves far from Palace City, near the very edge of the fruited orchards. Off in the distance, the dark, foreboding, evergreen woods cast its shadowy gloom ever outward, warning any who approached that it did not care for casual visitors.

Before the Third Age, EdenEsonbar was sparsely populated, most of the children having chosen long ago to wander the surrounding star systems in search of homes for themselves. Palace City was often little more than a way station for wanderers tiring of the chase in the wild lands, or those seeking a temporary respite in the refined wonders EdenEsonbar offered. Before the Rebel Wars, less than ten million of Lowenah's children called this planet their home.

For this reason, there still remained vast territories on EdenEsonbar that were uninhabited, save a very few of Lowenah's more wild children who chose to live with flint and fire, the jungles of EthoHule one such place. The dark forests to the west were another such place, but even more so, Lowenah having long ago cast a spell upon those lands. The forests of oak, hickory, maple, cedar, beech, and other less friendly vegetation - some said made by Mother's witchery to keep the uninvited out - stretched for a thousand leagues west until reaching the cliffs of a great inland sea. Only the wildest of the wild ventured into those forests, and few lingered.

Lowenah looked to the western hills, asking, "Do you remember our last visit there?"

Her eyes twinkling, Tolohe nodded, answering, "A haunted, spooky land filled with necromancy and witchery it is, scarier than the HootinSmokers! Such a wonderful, fun place to be, especially when you are by my side..."

Taking Tolohe's hand, Lowenah asked, her eyes pleading, "Does my darling daughter have an hour or two to spend with her Meter in that haunted forest?"

Tolohe laughed uproariously, "Do you believe I have crossed star systems to spend only an hour or two with my dear, sweet lover? No, I do not believe you do." She cupped Lowenah's hands in hers, touching noses. "Tomorrow or the next day I must step through the looking glass again. When I return, I do not know, in this world or the next. That answer lies hidden in hands of the Fates. So today, and the next, and the next, for as long as you desire, I am come to play in your gardens."

Lowenah grinned, "Should I have my will done, we would hide ourselves away in those forests until time comes to an end." She pouted like an unhappy child, "But that is not to be..."

Both women stared off toward the shadowy forest, pondering the past, present, and possible future. Lowenah finally broke the silence. "Other secrets are hidden in those woods my daughter has not yet witnessed. Frighteningly scary they may be. Not for the faint-hearted they are. I don't know... I don't know..."

Tolohe pulled on Lowenah's hand, laughing, "The better for it! The better for it! Quickly, Meter, there is little time to waste. If we hurry, we will make the forest by the witching hour of evening - such a scary time to arrive."

Together, the two children were off in a rush, the spooky forest silently observing the approaching adventurers.

* * *

Section Ten:

Whispers of the Kriggerman

The little carriage zipped down the street, its engine making a pleasant _'pop! pop! pop!_ ' noise as it pulled up a small hill before coasting to a stop outside the northern concourse entrance beneath the palace. A dapper-looking fellow gingerly stepped down, turning, offered his hand to the two women exiting.

Looking about at the late morning bustle of the crowded street, he mused, "It was so kind of Mother to offer us her auto car so that we might arrive for the luncheon hour." He pulled Trisha close in a one-armed hug. "It feels good to be home again..."

Trisha glanced at Sarah, both women remaining silent. Home? For Zadar maybe, but for them? What was Heaven to them? Home?

Trisha and Sarah had become close while convalescing. They found a commonality in many respects, each living in an abusive world polluted by mistrust, deceit and treachery. Oh yes, Sarah's was far more violent, filled with constant danger and physical abuse of every sort. Trisha's, though less threatening for the body, was a living torment and just as destructive to heart and mind.

Neither woman had been of great importance in their worlds of old, Sarah a slave, fighting each day for her life until an agonizing cancer consumed her, and Trisha, a lowly wife and mother taken by scandal and humiliation, dying alone, an old, decrepit outcast among her own people. What had changed here for them that was so different, still outcasts living violent lives? Humble in origin, simple folk, illiterate as to written speech, versed not in prose and promise of the new religion each had embraced, they had struggled on because of the hope shone forth for a better life, far away from the evil that engulfed their universe.

Though both Trisha and Sarah had envisioned differently the world beyond their old, what confronted them when arriving here was not at all what they had imagined. Stories told of Heaven certainly were not their reality. The beating of plowshares into swords was the rule of the day. Treachery and intrigues, ruined outposts and raided outland villages, death and injury were the realities of the Heaven they had been delivered to. For them, it was no gift to have been given smashing weapons to destroy the wicked. John's words of promise penned years after both women were asleep in the Web of the Minds appealed not at all. Peace and freedom from care remained only dreams for them, both having spilt the blood of their enemies since arriving here.

Then there were the words of that Cherub fellow, RosMismar, that were so disconcerting and troubling. His laughter and chiding remarks still echoed painfully in their ears. 'You think you bested that Worm? Let me tell you, for a fact I know the truth, because it was I who bathed him in the witching glory he possesses. No other mortal save Gabrielle, possibly, would survive his concentrated assault! Should all three of the Swords gather their might together, it would be a sorrowfully insufficient defense against him.'

To Trisha he revealed, 'Do not think it was by wit or prowess that you humiliated your foe at the prisoner exchange! If it were not for the distracting trickery of our Mother Witch, your hide would have been flayed from off your flesh before your hand had reached the Evil One's belt. The music of the bells that you could not even hear was all that saved you that day - that and the gray cloak of mystery that the Mother Witch shrouded you and your kind in.

'The Evil One could have torn you asunder with his very thoughts at any moment except for the fear and uncertainty Lowenah flooded him with. She did so to fill his heart with doubt, for a riddle far beyond the prisoner exchange was being played out to the full that day. Should her ruse have cost all the lives of those in your charge, it would have been a bargain price for what was gained. Life in these worlds goes on because of the contest won by another soul tested.'

Sarah fared his rebuke little better. 'Oh, great and powerful the Mistress of Death thinks she is! Foolish, I say, so foolish! Did you believe the white flame in your sword was controlled by you? I say not, for the cherub residing there was placed in its power by my very hand. Should your weapon have fallen from its owner's hand, it would have still cleaved an army of its attackers.

'You are a great Sword, one of the Three. One day like me you will become, with my powers and my glory...one day. For now, you live or die by the mercy of my kind. We care not for love or hate, good or bad! Our devotion is to the One we love and to Her success. The game she has placed on the board and its victorious finish we, my kind, will see to. You are but a player in the game. We are the masters moving you about. Just so that you should know, the Evil One did not notice you skulking about in his world because you stink with that same evil which cloaks the Third Element dwelling within your heart. Do not be fooled into thinking he could not scent you out should he discover the truth about you. Do be careful! His naivety regarding you is not everlasting.'

RosMismar frowned, but the twinkle in his eyes belied his true feelings. 'Your Lowenah is quite fond of your kind, of you. For what reason, is beyond me.' He sat on one of the ship's lounge chairs, sighing, 'That being the case, I guess my kind will have to remain extra vigilant, taking care to see to your welfare... at least until you manage to grow up and take care of your own. Can't leave you go about getting chopped up or captured now, can we? Wouldn't look good to have Lowenah's captains made fools of, especially by the biggest fool of them all.'

Leaning forward, he cautioned, 'You feel a power percolating deep within you, but its hour has not yet come to awake. Worry not...it will. Until the Hour of the Seraph has come to its finish and Gradian's Clock chimes a new day, it will sleep. When it finally does wake, you will eventually become like our kind, knowing good and bad. Be patient. It will grow in its own way and at its own pace. You cannot hurry it. Let your wisdom mature along with your glory ahead of it. For wisdom you may abound in at any time, there being no chains upon it other than your own foolishness.'

Yes, it had been quite a time for lessons taught and learned. Trisha and Sarah were changed by the experience, but still needed time to embrace the truths and revelations RosMismar delivered. Today they would begin, having promised the Cherub just this morning when departing Lowenah's trade ship in the nearby hills east of Palace City.

Trisha snuggled up in Zadar's embrace, openly showing her affection for him. Heaven had not played false for her in regard to this man. Zadar loved her and she loved him, and could freely express that love without fear of ridicule or reprisal. She looked up at him, a smile breaking across her face, instantly followed by a wince and then a quiet groan.

Zadar reached over and tenderly touched Trisha's face. "You look more beautiful than ever, but it will take some time for the nerves to completely heal. The dear fellow who assisted in your repair chose to leave a friendly reminder for a little while just so, you know..."

Trisha nodded in agreement, "To help teach me a lesson not to be so full of myself, and to remember the pain when others I order through Hell's gate. I will take my medicine. It has already rewarded me in many ways." She reached over and took Sarah's hand.

Sarah smiled sheepishly, squeezing Trisha's hand. Her heart was badly damaged from living so many years in violent slavery. Rare was the companion she learned to trust or even care for, and only a small handful of them were men. For several years, she had wandered these worlds alone, seeking the company of others when necessity was forced upon her. A tall woman whose stature was equal to Euroaquilo's she was, easy to notice in a crowd. So to the nightly shadows and back streets she often stayed, using her cloaking powers to remain hidden from others.

Romance? Little did Sarah care for it, the price she paid for the cruelty heaped upon her for so many years. She would slowly murder her opponent in the private arena, knowing how the revelers enjoyed it, possibly buying her a night free from groping hands. Often times she would be forced to have relations with her male combatant in front of the gathered crowd before fighting him to the death. Since arriving in this world, she had rarely romanced any man and then only for a needed dream share or when the heat was heavy upon her, which was very rare.

Admiral Euroaquilo and Captain Asarel were acquaintances of Sarah, tending to clandestine activities while keeping her presence secret. She had developed a close relationship of sorts with each. When her animal within awoke to its sybaritic passions, the arms of one of these two men the woman would trust to, they knowing her need to satisfy the carnal beast while leaving her heart unfettered of obligation.

Seeing Trisha's reassuring glance, Sarah relaxed a bit. No longer would she be hiding in the shadows of this world. Very soon her name was to be broadcast across the Empire. In just a few days there was to be a great council and she was to be revealed at that time. It felt good that she would not be the lone stranger in the room, that Trisha would also be with her, giving her support.

A shudder ran down Sarah's back as she recalled her previous encounter with Trisha. Just how precious a treasure she had become over the past few days was profound. Trisha made her feel wanted, cared for, beautiful, which the woman truly was but refused to see. While resting in Trisha's arms, she could forget all the evils of her past and become the innocent girl, wishing only to be touched with love. Yes, she believed, Trisha was the first and only person she ever was in love with.

Zadar called out to some acquaintances passing nearby, introducing them to the others. While they politely chatted, Sarah watched Zadar. She liked him very much, loved him, too, in a way - more like a brother she never had. He was fun, charming and very handsome, but also caring and gentle. Sarah watched the way he treated Trisha, fawned over her, the sweet love they made together. As much as her heart wished for a man to care for her needs in such a way, she was not ready to accept those advances, and Zadar understood that. Well he respected her, not even offering a flirting glance, yet always surrendering the divan to private shadows when she wished for his lover's embrace.

Zadar was not left unchanged by his recent adventures either. RosMismar spent an extraordinary amount of time with the fellow, sharing tales of wonder and delight, explaining the history of his kind in ways never before revealed. Some of the secrets of Lagandow and his mistress mentor, Gabrielle, were also disclosed. RosMismar wagged a finger to emphasize what he was telling. 'You must remember these things for future days. As great as the Lord of the Crystal Skies is, she will need you in the coming hour. Gentle is the woman, more fragile than a flower blossom. Badly broken she is, too. The time is soon to arrive when you, alone, will be able to sustain her constitution until the calling of the crow.'

Zadar was filled with so many questions. RosMismar patiently answered all he could. The hours of waiting while Trisha and Sarah healed were filled with the Cherub's often whimsical remedies and anecdotes. The fellow was such a great storyteller, Zadar was just forced to hang on his every word. This time was not wasted on Zadar. When finished, the man was well-learnt in the history of Trisha, Sarah, Ishtar, and Gabrielle. Regarding Gabrielle, RosMismar warned, 'Tell no one, and do not let the Lady know what secrets of her heart have been revealed to you.'

Zadar promised and, with his newfound knowledge, attempted to put it to wise use. He played in Trisha's dreams to arouse her senses for love while shading the aches of past abuses. With Sarah, he covered any amorous desires he might harbor, for Sarah was a woman beautiful in the extreme. His eyes did not wander her comely form, nor did his words ever carry sensual music upon them. When he held her in an embrace, it was for her comfort of heart with no hint of passion or desire for her body.

While they stood there talking in casual conversation, Zadar's and Sarah's eyes met, Zadar feeling a flutter in his heart. Could it be? Was he also falling in love with this woman like he had with Trisha? For sure he did not know, but it felt good to think it might be so. Maybe this kind of love was contagious. Was it possible a man could be this deeply in love with more than one woman...with many women? Zadar hoped so, because it felt so right for it to be that way.

Zadar's acquaintances were just departed and the trio started for the North Concourse doors when someone shouted out Zadar's name. "Hey there, old fellow, wait up!"

A tired, opened-top lorry filled with raucous merrymakers slowly wheezed to a stop beside the curb. As the porter hurried about getting luggage and packages from the machine, long in need of proper repair, the crowd aboard scrambled out through the doors and over the sides. Off they scampered, making their way toward festivities going on within the lower palace complex.

Searching the crowd for the person behind the voice, Zadar spied his old friend, Crilen, as he crawled over the side of the lorry and dropped into the street near the curb. Extending his arms, Crilen called up to a woman struggling to do the same. "C'mon, Chesse, you gonna take all day?"

Chesse grumbled something about her clothing being hung up. At that moment, another person slid over the side of the machine, catching up the woman's feet in passing. With a cry, Chesse slipped and fell, her blouse caught fast on a rail hook.

"Omph!" Chesse moaned, her body slamming against the side of the lorry, feet dangling several inches above the street.

_Rr-rr-i-ii-pp!_ She suddenly came free of the blouse, crashing backward and down, falling into Crilen's arms. Zadar hurried over while Crilen checked Chesse for injuries. Shaken a bit, Chesse looked herself over, examining a bloodied bruise on her elbow. "Just a little scratch is all..." she offered reassuringly, fussing over Crilen's undue concern.

After taking a quick look for himself, Zadar agreed that the injury was minor, but encouraged Chesse to get some ice for possible swelling. Someone shouted down to the others, tossing the torn blouse to a half-naked Chesse. "You look much better without it!" the man exclaimed. "Hoped you'd stay aboard until the spaceport. Then I could have helped you out of the rest of those duds."

"Next time! Next time!" Chesse grinned, shouting up flirtingly. Holding up the damaged garment, she sang out a woeful ode to it...

" _A poor man's shirt I'll never be,_

For my master hanged me from a tree.

My blow is mortal, my time has come.

I shall be cast away in the morning sun."

She tossed the ruined blouse back into the lorry, calling out to the man, "Take this token of my love and keep it safe under your pillow. When you are bedding another, think of the rapturous love you'd wished to have. It'll make your romance a bit sweeter, dreaming of me and what might have been."

The man clutched the blouse, throwing kisses while feigning love lost while extolling his desires to share more than dreams, expressing his wishes in waxing prose of not so subtle terms. Chesse threw him back a kiss, promising her eternal devotion should their paths cross again. The lorry jerked to a start, the man grabbing hold the machine's side rail for fear of tumbling over. Everyone laughed, waving as the fellow continued to blow kisses until the lorry rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Trisha and Sarah arrived just after the lorry was gone. Zadar wasted no time introducing the women to his friends. "This is midshipman Crilen, newly appointed to the imperial frigate, Shikkeron. We've been on countless adventures together. We shared the same fire and ate from the same mess. If you're ever in need of a good pack mule for a long journey, ask this fellow to accompany you. He rarely complains, doesn't eat much, and will work hard all day for a little ale and a horse blanket."

Crilen bowed politely, taking first Trisha's and then Sarah's hands, giving each a kiss. "Field Marshal Trisha, may I commend you on your brilliant and masterful successes at the prisoner exchange! Such a strategy needs be written in the Officers' Training Manual for all of us to study." He then offered his salutations to Sarah.

After the women returned their greetings, Zadar introduced Chesse. "This is Colonel ChasileahUUnooNiemie, a precious and treasured companion of mine."

Embarrassed by Zadar's comments, Chesse quickly extended a hand. "Field Marshal Trisha, a pleasure to make your formal acquaintance. We first met at the Spaceport Diner, if you recall, me delivering packages. I... I work with the Postal."

Trisha politely shook Chesse's extended hand. "Yes, yes I do remember you, though we were not properly introduced then. Chesse, I recall."

Zadar broke in, his face beaming with a huge grin as he wrapped an arm about Chesse's shoulders. "She's too modest, she is. Saved my life, she did. There I lay, all torn up and bleeding badly. The colonel here dove over me to shield me from the crashing missiles and then began dragging me up the hill for some three furlongs to get me out of harm's way. All the while, she was nursing a wound from a jillson bolt slammed through her ribs and a broken ankle."

"Zadar, please..." Chesse's face clouded with shades of disquiet.

Zadar ignored her request. "Got me into a blasted out bombproof and tended to my needs, keeping me alive while she slowly bled, nearly to death. The medics thought us both dead when they found us crumpled up together the following morning. She's my angel, I tell you."

Chesse lowered her head, letting go of Trisha's hand. Then looking up, she replied haltingly, "You know, things done when... it wasn't anything special."

Trisha could see the shame reflected in Chesse's eyes and smiled, understanding a person's need to keep some things secret. "Well, it's a pleasure to have made the acquaintance of such a brave and stalwart servant, Co..."

"Chesse or Chasileah with the Postal," Chesse interrupted. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Field Marshal Trisha."

Trisha smiled. "It's Trish or Trisha, in the king's service."

Chesse thanked her. "Trisha it is."

After proper introductions were completed, the conversation turned to why everyone was here, and what the day's plans were. After listening for a while, Trisha recommended that Zadar take the afternoon to spend with his other companions. "There's important business to attend to after the luncheon today that may possibly occupy a great deal of our time. My lieutenant will be of little use to us. It would be so kind of you to take him into your charge for a while. Keep him out of trouble, if you know what I mean."

All agreed, thinking it a splendid idea. Zadar gave Trisha a rather passionate kiss, promising a later return. Trisha invited everyone to dine with her at seven that night. "Leftenant Crilen and... and Chesse, please come when you fetch my attendant. I will be expecting you both."

Crilen did not hesitate, saying he would be delighted. Chesse stalled, feigning excuse until Zadar cajoled her into accepting. Trisha grinned, pleased. "We shall see you then."

After Trisha and Sarah departed, Zadar and the others grabbed a quick lunch from a street vendor. As they ate, a discussion ensued over where to go. "It's been months since I've been to Diamond Ridge," Crilen offered.

After asking the vendor when the next northbound lorry was scheduled to arrive, Chesse turned to the others, disappointed. "We've not the time to get there and back for dinner. I did so much wish to see the Ridge. It's so beautiful this time of year."

Zadar snapped his fingers. "I've a remedy, I believe. Mihai has an old motorcar stabled not far from here. I'm sure she won't mind if we borrow it for the afternoon."

Twenty minutes later, a hard-topped carriage sedan was speeding north with three passengers anticipating an afternoon luxuriating in the mineral springs of the Diamond.

* * *

Mineral Lake's steaming pools were so refreshing to body and spirit the trio lingered far into the day, only departing when the clock forced them. This mile square lake was located at the southern end of the Diamond Mountains, an area filled with countless geological wonders. A complex of baths and lodges was scattered around the lake, a gymnasium and amphitheater anchoring the north and south ends respectively. To the west and north of the lake stood a line of low, limestone ridges dotted with a multitude of natural coves, caves and caverns. This area was often referred to as 'Diamond Ridge', although officially Diamond Ridge encompassed several hundred square miles more.

Zadar leaned back in the seat of the auto car, lazily watching the distant railstage as it snaked its way through the rocky hills toward Diamond Ridge. The twice-daily summer run was popular not only for its destination but for the delightfully scenic ride it offered. A person could travel in silent, climate controlled comfort or enjoy the sun and breeze in one of the open-air cars. The ride was smooth due to antigravity rail systems and leisurely with a ground speed of about thirty miles per hour. This was true of all railstages, built in long ago ages when life cared little for time.

Mihai's motorcar was zipping south at over double the speed of the northbound railstage. Being a wheeled machine, the ride was not as smooth, and the older Kafter engine was noisy, being of an internal combustion design. But the road was wide and more direct, cutting the time to get from the Ridge to Palace City by over half. The Ridge lorry out of the city was nearly as quick as the motorcar, but it ran only three times a day in the summer, once a day in spring and fall, and not at all in the winter, a daily railstage the only way in and out at that time of the year, seeing that the roads were not kept up.

Still, the motorcar was climate-controlled and spacious, with two plush bench seats facing each other, and it afforded private conversation for the traveling companions. The trio had lingered long at the Eastern Baths, a rather mundane name for such a luxurious establishment. One could soak in the bubbling mineral waters while taking in the sights of the southeastern rocky foothills and, for a small fee, there was abundant food and drink to satisfy the palate. Too long they had dallied for an unhurried drive back to the city, the reason for their current speed.

It was not long before their conversation turned to the prisoner exchange. A debate ensued regarding Asotos' argument that Lowenah was wrongfully hiding her true identity from the children in the Second Realm. Chasileah confessed, "It's a confusing issue, a dividing one. I've heard whispers that Mother is out of line concerning this. Many feel that cloaking her true nature creates a false faith in the hearts of those who believe they are following a male leader. This only adds fuel to the fire for the people who accuse Mother of deceit by changing Mihai's gender when sending her into that world."

Crilen pondered Chesse's remarks, then eyeing her, asked, "So how does our Chasileah feel? Has Mother stepped over the line on this matter?"

"Stepped over the line?" Chesse shook her head denying that. "I speak not against what Mother has chosen to do. I trust to her leadership, her wisdom, but I do puzzle over it. For the centuries before the global upheaval in Noah's day, Mother was known in form and name as 'Yehowah, the Mother Goddess'. All the faithful men of old from Seth to Lamech willingly bent a knee in worshiping her in her true form."

Zadar spoke up. "All that may well be true, but the actions of Hormax and his demonic cohorts perverted such worship into debased and vile religions of filth. Why the men of those days even took the name of Noah's wife, Aphrodite, and turned it into something repulsive and obscene."

Chesse saw it differently. "Yet those same men perverted the male gender by creating gods of evil and obscene character. Mother still chose to imply the masculine to her worshipers."

Zadar disagreed. "The masculine over the feminine, not the masculine without the feminine... Mother spoke to her chosen people in womanly terms of endearment, even speaking with the feelings of a nursing mother. No, I think that she needed to emphasize her strength and power in a manly way to a race of men who had, because of Hormaxian machinations, subjugated women into stations of weakness and slavery. If the people of those realms were ever to believe that hope in the vanquishing of evil existed, they needed a male god to put faith in."

Chesse still feared Mother's deception, though well-intended, might have negative consequences in the future when all truths must be revealed.

Crilen queried, "Do you feel that Mother had questionable motives for doing such a thing? That she may possibly fear or have feared a vast falling away of her loyal disciples in the Lower Realms should the facts have been revealed?"

Her voice carrying a tinge of insult, Chesse curtly answered, "Never have I questioned Mother!"

Crilen sat back, grinning mischievously, "Whoa, there! No need to go to war here. I was only wondering what you think of Mother's decisions concerning this."

Apologizing for her rude response, Chesse went on to explain what she meant. "Mother has given to all her children freedom of choice, to choose to decide which road or course to take. It is also a freedom she gives to herself. I have lived ages longer than either of you, have witnessed other decisions Mother has made, as well as the consequences of those decisions." She leaned forward, shaking a finger. "By Mother's own volition, she has regretted some of her decisions. That takes not away one bit from who Mother is, but it does reveal that even wise decisions may not always produce the hoped for results. Should all of Mother's decisions prove foolhardy, I'd rather die a fool following her than to live eternally a slave to my brother scum!"

Zadar cautioned, "What you say may have some merit of truth to it, but dangerous speech it could be, nonetheless. If it fell upon the wrong ears, especially coming from an Ancient like you... well, weak hearts are easily swaged, and I feel there are many weak-hearted ones still among us."

Chesse did not argue, replying, "I only speak my opinions among trusted confidants for sake of presenting a clearer picture of the way I see matters."

Crilen slowly nodded as though considering Chesse's comments and Zadar's admonition. He finally spoke up. "Well, whether Mother's decisions were either wise or foolish, that girl of ours, Darla, sure kicked some ass at the prisoner exchange! No man has anything on her when it comes to being tough!"

It was Zadar's turn to sit forward, surprised, asking, "What of Darla? Was she harmed in some way?"

"Have you been in a tomb?" Chesse asked incredulously. "Gossip has been rife regarding the girl's exploits. You were at the prisoner exchange, weren't you?"

Zadar stammered his confession, "Well... er... yes, I was, er... but my party left soon after the prisoners were released."

Crilen did not allow Zadar to escape with such an empty excuse. "Maybe so, maybe so, but that was some time ago. Where have you been since, working on some secret plans for coming conquests?"

Squirming a bit, fearing that he might 'let the cat out of the bag' if he said too much, Zadar offered a lame excuse and quickly changed the subject back to Darla. "Nothing secret, just busy...busy. You know, do this, get that, errand, errand, errand... Besides, you were at the prisoner exchange, too, Crilen... heard some stories about that. You know Dogie left early, told you we were going, myself. I just thought you might know some details that hadn't reached the gossip. What of Darla?"

"All right. All right, seeing you're not giving anything up..." Crilen surrendered. He related stories he overheard from others who had witnessed Darla's encounter with Asotos. Zadar's ears tingled with excitement at the things disclosed. As details of events unfolded, an idea began to percolate in his mind, that is, until Crilen came to the part where Darla and Euroaquilo went off on one of Mother's trade ships to celebrate a new coming of age.

Zadar groaned, "So she's gone off with Euroaquilo? You got me thinking about something, but I needed to talk with her about what I have in mind."

Chesse piped up, "The girl's not far away. Why, I saw Euroaquilo just yesterday morning at the spaceport, preparing his escort ship, Griffon, for its return to the Third Fleet. He told me that Darla was off on an adventure to meet with our latest arrival, a certain Ishtar, if I recall, out at the village as we speak, I suppose."

Zadar beamed, "That is good news! I'll see if Mihai will allow me to take her carriage out for another spin tonight after dinner."

Chesse frowned, cautioning, "I don't know if Darla will take to your intrusion. You know she's been waiting a long time to be together with that child...goes way back with her. It might be wiser to wait a day or two. Give 'em time to get reacquainted before busting in on them."

"I don't have a day or two!" Zadar exclaimed. "We've got business coming up soon and I need to find out answers to my questions before then. Darla will understand."

Crilen leaned forward, eyeing Zadar. "Your face reveals more than your words. Tell us, what is so important that you should go off on a run to find your sister when a mourning dove waits for you in her nest? This isn't the Zadar I know, willing to forego an evening tryst for the sake of uncertain consequences. What's up? Why can't things wait at least until tomorrow?"

Not wishing to reveal his full intentions, Zadar explained, "From what you say, Asotos got really close to Darla, possibly into her head. She may have learned something important, a tidbit of information revealing his motives or future plans."

Crilen laughed, "You put a lot of stock in the idea that Asotos would share pertinent information with a horse maiden - at least that's what Mother dressed our girl up to be that day."

Zadar disagreed. "It was a ruse to draw the Worm out. 'Least that was the gossip I heard tell regarding it - gossip from a dependable source. Mother set Asotos up, tricksing with him the way she sometimes does, to throw him off guard so he might do something foolish."

Rubbing his bearded chin in thought, Crilen mused, "So it was a setup? Hmm...." He then asked, "You've got some special meeting where you're planning to share all this with the big brass? If you do find something worthwhile, do you think they will buy it, especially coming from Darla?"

Zadar hesitated, not liking Crilen's negative implications about his close companion. He imagined that Ardon had filled his head about her while on the way to the prisoner exchange. Ardon was known to grab the ear of anyone who would listen when his pride was hurt. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, we have several meetings coming up. See, it's this way. I'm an adjutant to the field marshal. It's my job to provide whatever information to her that might prove beneficial. Time is always of the essence when it comes to matters such as making plans and preparing for things, war maybe. Everyone knows there's a war coming. Field Marshal Trisha's in the middle of what's coming. It's my job to assist her as much as may be."

Crilen was not satisfied with Zadar's coy answer, but saw it useless to probe for more. He turned to Chesse, asking, "What's so outstanding about this Ishtar so as to make Darla run off and leave prince charming for her?"

"Girl's special to her," Chesse answered. "Goes back before the Gallic Wars... She helped save the girl and her uncle, Cephas, from Legion's ruffians. Came close to dying. Was put up in a convalescent home for some time. Drorli told me that she made arrangements to come to the village as soon as she arrived, had to stop over to retrieve something from the vaults under Palace City first."

"Cephas' niece, huh?" Crilen glanced back and forth between Zadar and Chesse. "Doesn't sound all that casual to me." He looked at Chesse. "You seem to know a lot about what's going on. What's the big secret, anyway, Miss Tricksy?"

"No big secret..." Chesse confessed. "Just happened to be about my Postal duties when Drorli asked for a hand in the village."

Zadar interrupted, "I think with Darla it's more being that it was her first clandestine assignment with someone in the Lower Realms. She took a shine to Ishtar, something common in cases like that, what some call the 'motherly affection syndrome'. But I feel there's more to Ishtar or to Ishtar's arrival."

"How so?" Crilen asked. Chesse chimed in, also wondering.

Zadar explained, "I was at the last council meeting before we departed for the prisoner exchange. As you have heard, Mihai spoke of three swords - two being already here, Trisha being one, and another hiding in shadows. The third was yet to come and, when it arrived, the three would be made complete. I got the impression that the arrival of all the Swords of Prophecy was a harbinger of future events. Then," he waved his hands about gesturing, "when Eutychus told me what Sirion spoke to Legion during her rescue... well, I just think Ishtar might be our third sword of prophecy."

Crilen and Chesse both asked excitedly, "How? What did Sirion say?"

Zadar leaned forward, speaking in a hush. "After Sirion retrieved the skin bag from Legion, Eutychus said she spoke some kind of a curse to the man. It went something like, 'It has waked. It has waked. It smells the blood of the one murdering it. Daughter of the Gorgons it is.' And as she hobbled away, she turned and hissed, 'Pleasant dreams, brother.'"

Crilen could little contain himself. "So what do you think it means? How do you connect it with Ishtar?"

"Well," Zadar leaned back in the seat, "Sirion said something had waked, and implied that Legion would be troubled over it. From what I've been told, Ishtar awoke about then, and she's been the only one from the Lower Realms to arrive here for some time. There are no others. And..." Zadar held the suspense until he felt the two were about to burst, "it was said that Mother warned Legion that day when Ishtar was murdered by his henchmen that the girl would return to haunt his dreams.

"So," he slapped his knees, "I just put the pieces together and concluded that Ishtar might just be the third sword we've all been waiting for. The Swords of Sharon may all be arrived as I speak."

Crilen sat back, disappointed. "I thought there might be more to it than just some wild hunch. I have to admit, though, you do weave a good tale." He then offered a word of caution. "I doubt you'll find our girl cooperative, seeing all she's been through, and now the new toy she has to play with. You know Darla, all fuss, all fuss when she's got something like Ishtar on her mind. Sinks into that secret world of hers and doesn't let anyone in."

He wagged a finger, making a snide comment. "And that's what I think you'll find if she does let you in - nothing. Locked up tighter than a drum she is, poorest... Well, I just don't think she has much to share, and I don't think Asotos would have found that much in her either, 'least not enough to leave anything behind in her head."

Zadar was displeased with Crilen's insinuations concerning Darla, but remained silent. After all, few who knew the woman felt differently. Even many of her close acquaintances viewed her the same way. He finally replied, "Try I must, even if it might be a long shot."

Crilen leaned back, resting his head on the pillowed cushion, closing his eyes. "Let us know if you do find something important, which I doubt you will..."

The remainder of the journey back to Palace City was uneventful. Crilen added other details about the prisoner exchange. He also went to some length explaining how he came about being permanently assigned to Shikkeron as midshipman and his increase in rank to first leftenant. Chesse told about her escapades with Ishtar and the duoreachees. Zadar remained politely quiet, absorbed in private thought.

After arriving back in the city, an argument ensued between Zadar and Crilen as to who would escort their traveling companion to dinner. It was finally settled by Chesse that both men could. So, with two fellows at her side, the trio sauntered toward the Northern Concourse entrance.

Chesse had obtained another blouse while at Diamond Ridge, silky sheer and billowy with some frills down the front and at the end of its long sleeves. The woman was truly a sight to behold! She was of medium build, buxom, brown-skinned, winter-white hair, with an oval face sporting delicate features. Shoulders back and with dignity she walked, her long years as a former officer in the Children's Army evidenced with her every step. It was no wonder that her two companions had vied for her attention, a rose surrounded by, well, you know...

The banquet hall where dinner was being held was one floor up from the main concourse level, not far from the north entrance. There was already a rather large crowd gathered by the time the trio arrived. This appeared to be quite a formal affair, attended by some of the Empires' most important officers and dignitaries. Seats were assigned with attendants ushering each new arrival to his or her respective place.

The banquet tables for this formal dinner were arranged in long, narrow rows so that groups of about sixteen would be seated together. This design was usually chosen to encourage several small conversations among the guests rather than have the entire table absorbed in a large one. It was also orchestrated for the guests to be seated immediately. Waiters would descend upon the people, requesting their choice of drinks and nibbles, and then quickly return, assuring that the people would not get up and wander.

The dining hall, though, was already filled with pleasant chatter from dozens of ongoing conversations. 'Quiet but comfortable' was what this kind of gathering was often described as, a formal occasion but relaxed, possibly a mixer of sorts, a selective mixer where specific groups were chosen in advance. In this manner, guests could look about the banquet hall to see the many faces to find out who was there, while at the same time steal away in pleasant conversation with only one or two at their table.

After the formal dinner was finished and any speeches made, finger-food desserts would often be delivered on large carts near the center of the hall. Minstrels or a small orchestra might begin playing sweet, musical refrains in the background, chairs and tables moved aside, clearing the floor of their clutter. Wine and other drink would be made available by waiters scurrying about. There was usually no ending hour, the crowd gradually thinning until only the staff remained to tidy things up.

At least this was the way since the Rebellion ended the festivals. The formal banquet had replaced them in a way. One could be arranged at any time and for any reason. It might be a small affair with only a dozen or so participants, or there might be thousands, which was rare. A formal event was far different from other, more casual festivities, the primary difference being the control the host exercised. Seats were assigned to encourage a pairing up of certain people, the host specifically wanting them to become better acquainted. The after-dinner dessert permitted guests opportunity to mingle and seek out specific individuals for conversation.

A smartly dressed hostess approached the company, addressing the woman, asking, "ChasileahUUnooNiemie?" Surprised, Chesse acknowledged her name. "This way, please," the hostess smiled, extending a hand to guide her guest to a seat.

When Chesse realized this was a formal occasion, she became uncomfortable, regretting accepting Trisha's invitation. Now there was little to do but follow the hostess. She sighed relief at seeing that her table was off to the side of the hall, away from where the most important guests were supposed to be seated. The hostess ushered her to a corner seat next to the head of the table, pulling out the chair and assisting her.

After a waiter had hurried away to bring the drink and appetizers, Chesse looked about at the others already arrived at her table, and then scanned the room. Many she knew, several from her military days. A large number of guests were neatly attired in the finery of Army dress. There were a few from the Navy, a smattering of Marines, and occasional ones dressed in uniforms unfamiliar to her. Then there were the dignitaries, some clothed in little more than a scant ribbon or two such as Tashi, governor of Exothepobole, compared to Ardon who was fully robed in purple splendor of state.

There were also others dressed more like Chesse, simple fare or nothing at all other than some painted accents and hair ornaments. Indeed, Chesse's blouse was little more than ornamentation, its sheer, billowy cloth leaving nothing to the imagination. That was often true for most of the guests other than the people in uniform. Revealing or suggestive military attire was generally frowned upon. Regalia did not make for a formal event. It was entirely based on the protocol implemented by the host.

Chesse struck up a quiet conversation with an officer on her left, asking if he knew what this banquet might be all about. The officer set his mug of simmering tea down, folding his hands on resting elbows. "Well..." he slowly swept his eyes around the hall, "the smell of coming war is stirring the blood of many of our old veterans. Most of us feel that what's coming is going to be the big one, bigger than the Great War. Searching for old comrades and seeking out former commanders is on many a mind. I believe our leaders are busy doing the same, gathering the vultures for the coming blood feast."

"So you believe that is the reason we've been invited here, to gather the crows for war?" Chesse asked, somewhat concerned.

The officer turned to make reply, studying the woman beside him. Something about her was familiar. They had met before, but where and when? He offered a hand, "Braiden, BraidenChuuShon, Fourth Tennyion Mobile Artillery, one of the few artillery units to be retained for active duty after the Armistice."

Politely accepting Braiden's inviting gesture, Chesse remarked, having some recollection of that unit, "Served gallantly, as I recall..."

Braiden thanked her, adding, "Yep, we held the northern ridge covering the retreat of our infantry during the Battle of Bauglow. Took heavy losses holding the line, but managed an orderly withdrawal, keeping all our guns. Later we took part in the Battle of the Tower Gate. Were the last to leave the field that day, I the sole surviving officer in my company." He then commented, asking, "I should know you. You are?"

Chesse hesitated, finally replying, "ChasileahUUnooNiemie, I work with the Postal."

"A pleasure to meet you, but..." Braiden peered into Chesse's face. "but I've seen you somewhere in the past. Were you ever in the military?"

Chesse's face clouded as she looked down at the table. "Yes...I was."

"Were you at Memphis?"

This was the most feared and dreaded question Chesse could imagine. She took no pride in her conduct in that battle, was ashamed of the murder of those under her command. She had been their officer in charge. She had led them to their deaths, and she had lived. It was not fair! She had lived.

"Yes..." Chesse answered in little above a whisper.

Braiden silently nodded, finally remembering where he had seen the woman. He assisted the litter bearers the day following the Battle of Bauglow. This woman, a colonel, torn, shattered and barely alive, he helped deliver to the ambulances. He was pleased to find out Chesse survived, but could see how badly the war had damaged her.

Chesse turned to look at Braiden, her eyes distraught.

Braiden smiled, lifting his mug. "Well, ChasileahUUnooNiemie with the Postal, it's good to meet your acquaintance."

Chesse and Braiden continued on with some small banter, inviting a newly seated guest into the conversation. All the while, Chesse watched for familiar faces as the room filled. Euroaquilo arrived arm in arm with Sarah, the woman dressed in one of those mysterious, bright-white uniforms. The cut of the jacket and the decorative braid indicated to Chesse that Sarah was an officer of high rank, something Zadar failed to mention during their earlier introduction.

All eyes were focused on the woman as she and Euroaquilo were led to their table. Silence was quickly followed by quiet whispers and occasional glances. Most believed her to be an Off-worlder, but who she was and how long she had been here was a mystery. She matched Euroaquilo in height and stride, her beauty of equal grandeur. Many a man and more than a few of the women lingered with their gaze, basking in visual delights that stirred other more carnal desires.

Just before the seventh evening hour, Trisha joined the company, several other distinguished guests including Mihai and Anna arriving just before her. Everyone stood and applauded to welcome Mihai. Crimson-faced with embarrassment by what she considered uncalled for attention, Mihai nevertheless graciously thanked them for their kindness. She then requested they all sit, stating that she was but a guest in another's house this night. Pointing at Trisha, who had just entered, she declared their host should receive all the accolades.

Again, everyone stood and offered Trisha the same salutation Mihai received. Trisha also was embarrassed by the fanfare, encouraging everyone to sit. Stepping into the middle of the room, she thanked everyone for coming, adding that dinner was now to be served. After some informal introductions, Trisha invited them to stay for dessert to get better acquainted or reacquainted. She then stepped out of the center of the room and into the shadows.

In only moments, the room was filled with the noisy bustle of waiters delivering the first course. A fine dinner it was, too, of green salads, smoked salmon over wild rice, sweet breads, cheeses, steamed and raw vegetables along with a variety of fresh fruits. Trays brimming with mouthwatering delights lined the middle of every table so that all the people had to do was reach and take whatever they wished. As soon as a platter became empty, a new one would take its place. Everyone ate to satisfaction, but few to the point of fullness, for there were those many desserts yet to enjoy.

Attendants were busy at Chesse's table when Trisha appeared. She offered her greetings then sat down at its head, beside Chesse. Such a charming host, she offered little time for the surprised woman to react, beginning a lively conversation with the four people seated in close proximity to her. In time, there was pleasant merrymaking, the telling of some fanciful stories, an occasional riddle and, of course, discussion regarding the prisoner exchange.

Chesse discovered that Braiden was a major in the regulars, the permanent branch of the military that remained enlisted after the Great War ended. He was a kindly person, smart, and also full of opinions that he was more than willing to express. Still, he only thought of them as opinions, once saying, "There are two types of people in this world: those with opinions and those who are always right. I hope to only have opinions."

The dinner hour was truly enjoyable for Chesse. Trisha made sure her guests were entertained and well fed. A little after eight of the evening hour, Mihai was invited to speak, keeping her remarks brief, recognizing that she stood between her audience and dessert. Tables and chairs were quickly removed, dessert and drink carts delivered, and the orchestra set to play. Trisha then asked Chesse if she would care to join with her in a glass of wine, which Chesse graciously accepted.

As the two women stood listening to the music, Zadar approached, begging his leave. After kissing them both and hugging Trisha, he warned that his duties might take him away for the night. Trisha kissed Zadar with longing, asking for his swift return. Off he was in a rush, waving his goodbyes.

No sooner was he departed than Crilen stopped to say his goodnights. He introduced them to his companion. "Perhaps you know Ilanit, attendant to the council, Lady Anna's attaché?"

Chesse knew of Ilanit, but the two had never met. Trisha did not, so took the time for a little banter. After a few minutes, Crilen and Ilanit were off on further adventures of their making. Trisha turned to Chesse, recommending they also go. "I have need for a moot with you this night, someplace a little more private. Will you come?"

Chesse did not like the sound of things. She knew Trisha's invitation came with strings, but didn't realize how many until arriving at the banquet hall. There was something up with the field marshal, but what? Curiosity gnawed at her, and the only way she was going to satisfy that beast was to go with Trisha. She also had no desire to offend such a gracious host. An invitation like this should be accepted if at all possible. She had no excuse. Honoring Trisha's request, the two women quickly left the gathering.

To Chesse's surprise, there was a carriage awaiting them. In twenty minutes, they were entering the lower stairway to the South Palace Wall Tower. Although it was nearly the ninth evening hour, the sun had only recently set behind the western hills. A soft, southerly breeze greeted them as they exited the lower tower ramparts. Such a beautiful evening, Trisha could not help but take a deep breath of the intoxicating air as she gazed out across the southern city in the early evening light.

The two women leaned upon the tower wall's outer bulwark, soaking up the day's warm afterglow delivered upon the breeze as they silently looked upon the southern suburbs outside the city proper, the spaceport with its complexes of warehouses, depots, and hangars stretching beyond them in the gathering dusk. This was a favorite place for Chesse to come after a long day of making deliveries. She would stare off into the southlands, reminiscing over her world of long ago.

Chesse finally broke the silence. "So much of this world has changed since the Rebellion. For countless ages, a thick forest of evergreens and hardwoods spread far across that plain. In time, a smattering of farms came to dot the landscape, but for the most part it remained a wild land less than a day's journey from this tower. Well I remember the sweet romance made under the giant oaks and the midnight swims taken in the light of a haunting summer moon."

She released a long, sad sigh, lamenting, "It's all gone now, the trees cut down to clear the land for new construction, the rivers and lakes buried under tons of bitumen and concrete used to build the spaceport and surrounding communities. The last of the distant farmsteads was swallowed up at the beginning of the Great War. All gone, like so many other dreams of yesterday...gone."

Her shoulders slumped as she peered into Trisha's face. "Your invitation was not to have me reminisce over the past. Whatever your motive for bringing me here, I believe it is in vain. I'm used up, beaten and broken, wondering sometimes if I even care what the future brings. My world has long dissolved into memories. I was a maiden of light, failing my people while innocence still ruled this world. I raised the sword of war in hopes of gaining absolution only to see those I led slaughtered before my eyes".

Casting her gaze toward the flagstones, she mourned, "From the First Megiddo War down through the Great War, I have watched the butchery of my brothers and sisters, good and evil \- some once my companions and lovers - shared in it, commanded it. Blood runs heavy from my hands. I murdered them all, seeking to purchase my own redemption, something I did not deserve...do not. I forsook the glory of Lagandow for a bed of hemlock down and senseless passion."

Trisha rested her hands upon the battlement, searching into the gathering darkness to see through Chesse's mind the world of her day. She finally broke her silence. "Out there, beyond your world, lies mine...or so I have been told. Thousand-year old dunes sweep over what used to be the city of my birth, QaShaibJal."

Chesse jerked her head about in surprise. "QaShaibJal?"

Trisha smiled sadly, looking back into Chesse's face. "Yes, the people of this world call me by the name of my forgotten city, a name they chose for me. And Trisha? I'm sure that by now you have been told that it's little more than an acronym for foreboding prophecy." Trisha looked back toward the southern horizon, sighing, "That is so. I'm known only as the proverbial saying from a forgotten place. That's me, TrishaQaShaibJal, too unimportant a soul to ever be asked my real name, and such a beautiful name it is."

Chesse began to apologize. Trisha stopped her, waving a hand. "Time has long passed for pious mollification, the sanctimonious penchant of your kind to nobly overlook the feelings of others through sympathetic apology, and then eulogize with mournful prose the lofty reasons necessitating such ignorance."

Chesse stood there, mouth agape, her countenance revealing her feeling of being insulted.

Trisha looked away to the south, speaking in little above a whisper, "My name is 'ElaiaKallos', 'the beautiful olive tree', or at least that was the definition given it by Asotos. My mother gifted me with the name, she calling me 'her little olive slip', a treasured gift of love's embrace."

Standing back, clasping her hands behind her, she turned and addressed Chesse. "My home... My home? My home, QaShaibJal, is a lost and forgotten place, it and my mother existing only within the vaulted halls of my memories. I, alone, retain any knowledge of it. In that place I grew up and into womanhood, married, bore eight children and buried three, grew old, was disgraced and abandoned and finally died...all in some place that matters not a pea-whit to any of the holy angels from this world. Why should I care about winning this coming war, saving your race, your past when my past has ever been devoured by Destiny's fickle hour? What is the value of my sacrifice?"

Eyeing Chesse, Trisha queried, "Chess? Chesse? A name from a child's poem, if I recall. Silly little name, isn't it? An easy name to hide behind when one seeks to run from reality, isn't that so? Well, no longer will I assist you with that foolish illusion, Chasileah, queen of the mountain goats, mother goddess of Orleans."

Shaking a finger in Chasileah's face, the field marshal cut across the woman's soul with her sharp criticism. "Oh yes, I have perused your history this day. You have not been a quiet lady, setting the world of men aflame on many occasions! Gabrielle has little on you other than her saintliness is clouded in mist and uncertainty. The Haudenosaunez speak your name with reverence, you saving their souls from destruction many times." Chasileah was aghast, never expecting such verbal excoriation, but she was given no time to reply.

" _Susquehanna!_ " Trisha lifted a hand in emphasis. "That is the way your name is pronounced in the world of men down to this day. 'Susquehanna – Chasileah, the deliverer of rescue, preserver of souls'. It is true, many are the souls you have rescued from certain death - souls that have gone on to change the worlds of men and gods, some for good and some for ill, but in the end those souls have delivered us up to this day."

She turned to again look out from the tower wall, still addressing her words to Chasileah. "No more baby names for me to call you. Chasileah it is and Chasileah it will be. It fits you. Learn to live with it."

Chasileah's dander was up, reflected in her polite but curt response. "Commander TrishaQaShaibJal, the academy of historical institution provides wind for the sails of mindless orators seeking an audience with the clouds." She pointed at herself. "I assure you that this cloud has provided little comfort for the parched tongue."

Assailing the night breeze with bitter reproach, Chasileah continued her courteous rebuff. "Should you have noted the rocks beneath the surface, seeing deeply into matters, you would have visited your mind upon a wretched creature, to be sure. I do not hide behind a childish name to forget, but to remember - remember the only innocence I can recall from my miserable life. A harlot I am, having sold the souls of my kindred into Hell's fires for an unattainable redemption, a bed of thorns being too great a gift for my atrocious fornications!"

Her voice grew desperate as indignation welled up in her breast. "Oh, how wonderful your rhetoric and charming your prose. 'Susquehanna, the great rescuer, mother goddess of Orleans!' What fool told you that? I've rescued no one. No one! Even that child I did not give rest to, but allowed her to burn for a cause of my choosing. Damn my soul instead! The very granddaughter of my Juliet, I denied succor! Please do not speak of valor regarding my evil name."

Trisha did not falter in her reply. "The tune of self-pity plays well upon a wanton heart. I shall speak as I please and you will listen! Do you truly believe that witch, Juliet, could not have gathered the LukusAner...the werewolves...and their kindred to deliver the child? Why, I believe the power of that gorgon princess alone could have ripped apart Rouen's walls, her very breath able to extinguish Jehanne's tormenting flames."

She looked down in silent contemplation before staring up into Chasileah's astonished face. "I do know also that in her dying moments, the child saw the victory her death delivered upon Satan's world. Her murder by fire broke the arm of the northern king, while breathing renewed life back into the ruler of the south. Held the winds were for another time and season because of her sacrifice."

Trisha smiled, "You rescued that child into another glory that is of much greater worth than the life she surrendered so many days ago. The child holds only praise for you and all that you did for her. Yet, that was not your only rescue that changed the world of men, securing the future down to this day. You delivered Beowulf from the dungeons of Rome so that he made his escape into the Lands of Ice, raising an army of Norse who crushed the ever-growing power of the mouth of Hormax, again slowing the coming day." She poked Chasileah's chest as she stepped forward.

Chasileah exclaimed, "What fool..."

"What fool told me this?" Trisha grinned. "Did you hear that the Witches of KordianHasur stood my side at the prisoner exchange?"

Curious, Chasileah answered quietly, "Yes..."

Trisha then asked, "Has anyone pondered how I gathered their allegiance so quickly, seeing them to be such a wild people that even Gabrielle failed to win them to our cause?"

Chasileah did not know.

Grinning, Trisha answered, "A madwoman from the Realms Below has collected them under her banner, she being wilder than they. They call her 'JehanneEmmainomaiOrleans' because of her fierce rage against our unholy host. That may well be true, but I feel she is rather a better diplomat. The girl has convinced the Witches of KordianHasur to join our alliance, swearing their fealty to the Empire. Jehanne is currently negotiating with the two major Wildcatter guilds to bring them into the fold."

Flabbergasted by that revelation, Chasileah asked, astounded, "Jehanne?"

Trisha nodded, smiling, "Your rescue was very much a success. Had you done differently, it is a possibility that the child might not have arrived to this destiny with the temperament and abilities she possesses."

Chasileah disagreed with Trisha's final conclusions, feeling that Jehanne had suffered needlessly. "Too often I have allowed my heart to decide death and life, choosing what will pacify its burning ache over the knowing mind. Your Zadar lives not because of any valor on my part. Many soldiers under my command died at Bauglow that day, some of greater worth to cause and destiny than either him or me, yet I chose to rescue that man because my bed he warmed as no other man could."

She pounded her chest. "Yes, that's right! The loss of his passionate rut was more than this doe's heart could afford to lose! I could see only my emptiness if he were gone from me. So, while those under my command withered away under the storm of fire and missiles, I cowered to save one cherished soul, leaving the others leaderless in the face of coming destruction. One soul I rescued when I should have been leading my regiment into damnation's storm."

Trisha countered, "You were already torn and broken, dying some said, others believing you already dead. Indeed, Major ChuarWick, your second in command, could not believe it when they discovered you alive the following day, he having personally seen you pitched into the bloodied air and crashing headlong into the rocks, your color bearer and those around you torn asunder. Already, he said to me, you were carrying a bolt through your ribs, refusing to relinquish command."

Chasileah rejected the report. "Major Chuar always had a flair for the theatric. Little can you trust his words about my heroics."

Stepping back and eyeing Chasileah, Trisha smugly replied, "Well, he thinks highly of you. Said you were the bravest commander he ever served under."

Chasileah spat back, "The man's a fool! A piss ant would be a better commander than I. The murder of my regiment at Bauglow was only the final curtain to a very long act filled with my butchery of oh so many souls."

Trisha shrugged, looking away. "Be that as it may, you at least saved the life of Zadar, and I thank you for that. Zadar is my life and blood. He moves me as he does you. Should I have done as well as you if our fates were exchanged."

Without hesitating, she returned to an earlier question. "It does not answer the reason I should care for your kind one whit. You've done nothing for me, didn't even know I existed! What good have I found in this hellhole you call 'Heaven'? Give me a reason for my sacrifice at all! I don't even have a baby time in my memory to return to."

Chasileah was caught up speechless, able to find no reply to make in answer.

With a finger, Trisha tapped the side of her head. "This...for this...here, inside here - you and me - is a mind that is but one mind, one blood, if you wish to call it that. Sisters we are, you and I, one family, one mother, one sire, up here in the mind."

She went on, touching her face, eyes and mouth, with spread fingers. "The body is only a vehicle to transport the mind through the realms of time and space. With it we can sense the outside world in which we reside. I ask you, is this world real? If it is, tell me so, please, how you know? Can your mind escape the vessel harboring it? Lo, reality is but a vision we believe to be real. You believe, so you act accordingly.

"I ask you for a fact: am I real, is Zadar, Lowenah? You answer 'yes' or 'no', but only in faith can you make reply, for only when you are outside your vessel looking back can you be sure of the presumed reality around you. So what do you believe then? The same as I, I suppose, that when the vessel is rent asunder, the mind escapes into a dreamless sleep, awaiting a new vessel of equal or greater worth in which to be placed. We also believe that countless millions of our people now rest in that dreamless sleep and, if we do not win this war against evil, there will be no hope for their returning to a new vessel."

She looked upon the southern city now aglow with lights of evening. "What is a tree, a forest or a farm? Why, what account are even planets, star systems or even galaxies? They come and they go all at the whim of a silent fate that sets the clock for a beginning or an ending. Mountains will sink and seas will rise, forests will die and deserts will blossom. Ever does the universe go on, changing this way and that. Who can stop it? Who does it care for?"

Again tapping the side of her head, Trisha exclaimed, "But this! This mind goes on forever. Whether in this body or another, it matters little if at all. Yet, is the mind immortal? I say not so, not at least is it indestructible. Unreachable to us, yes! That is why your evil brother can only destroy the body and not the soul - the mind. But can it be destroyed? I believe, yes, it can."

Spreading her arms wide as if holding the universe in her grasp, she continued, "Of three things are all mortal elements made. This you should know from your study of EbenCeruboam: energy...the spirit of God; frequency...the songs of God; and amplitude...the strength of God. Ether, often called an element, is not an element at all, but is the force that bonds the other three things together, locking, if you will, the many of the separate elements into the three. Thus are these three delicately woven into a fabric in which all mortal life resides, the fabric itself becoming mortal by its very construction in that it can be dissolved into its separate parts.

"In this fabric, at its very base a fabric that carries all life within it, rests the mind of each living being. Though separate, all living things are one because there is but one living fabric that shares with life its sustaining power. As goes the Web, so goes the mind."

Trisha lifted a hand. "Now all these things you should know, they being the fundamental teachings of EbenCeruboam. And yet, do you understand or comprehend their real meaning?"

Still put off by Trisha's trouncing, justified or not, Chasileah answered with caustic reply, "Oh, great vizier, your words of coarse flaxen weave are too deep for a child taught only by the Keepers of the Cherub Stones. Please explain yourself in ways this simple babe may understand."

How bitter the gall when the wine, too, is sour. Trisha frowned, "It is not the confusion of my monkey speech that freezes your senses, but the depths to which you and your kind seek to dive! I have heard report that you held NiShanderiah in your arms as life slipped from her soul, and that you wept for days over her murder. Do you wish to see her return?"

The sudden shock of Trisha's question sent a numbing ache through Chasileah's heart, her eyes filling with tears. She bowed her head, ashamed over her own vengeful assault that only added credence to the woman's verbal attack against her people. She spoke in a whisper, "I'm sorry..." then quietly replied, "Your question needs no answer. How painful her loss has been to me, for many reasons."

After studying the distant spaceport, Trisha again spoke. "We must comprehend the meaning of the Stones if NiShanderiah or any of our other kindred are to return to us."

Chasileah made no reply, waiting to hear Trisha's explanation.

Trisha smiled grimly, and then began, "Asotos is extremely powerful, much more so than I originally anticipated." She lifted a hand, waving a finger, "Oh yes, foolish I was at the prisoner exchange and, if having known then the secrets I am privy to now, I doubt my bravado would have carried the day. So foolish, yes, oh so foolish! Since that hour, I have been educated in the ways of the Cherub Stones and other related matters and, yes, by some very wise viziers to boot. What was shared with me you should have long ago learned from their very mouths."

Chasileah was surprised, wanting to know what Trisha knew about her and how she came about the information. Trisha refused to tell, saying only that their meeting was not by chance, and little it was she did not know about her.

She leaned back against the tower wall, folding her arms together on her chest. "Now to the real meaning... As I said, I have come to learn how frightfully powerful your brother really is, his powers little diminished since given to him so long ago. Although he cannot reach into the Web of the Minds, he has the power to destroy that Web, possibly all the many Webs. I don't know.

"It is harmonics that make up all matter and mortal energy. All tangibles in our universes are composed of these two things. The ether locks the harmonics and amplitude together at a very specific, controlled algorithm, producing a permanent core or base for all universal law to function within. We can change the mortal matter into mortal energy and vice-versa, that is, within our own Realm. What should happen, though, if we transfer an algorithm from this Realm and place it in a different Realm without passing it first through the Middle Realm?" She clapped her hands. " _Poof! Boom!_ Am I not correct?"

Chasileah agreed. "Yes. There have been recorded cases of this happening."

Trisha smiled. "Normally we consider such events caused by particulate interchange possibly from a cosmic, inter-dimensional storm as non-threatening, they being more visual than destructive. In such cases, the storm rapidly passes and any damage to the Web is quickly repaired.

"Now consider what the case might be if such a storm constantly pounded upon the structure of the Webs, smashing like angry ocean waves on a sandy shore. It is doubtful the Web's integrity could endure forever such an onslaught. Eventually the ether might lose its bonding strength, causing the Web and all mortal things within it to break apart, unweaving, so to speak."

Chasileah's eyes filled with wonder as she pondered Trisha's revelations. Revelations? Yes, in the sense that this subject was not part of the study of EbenCeruboam. True, the facts had always been there, but discussed in abstract of more positive ways. What Trisha presented was troubling because it revealed what might be a possible flaw in the creation of the universe. Could there be a chance that the Web of the Minds was not as secure a place as believed? How? The answer was quickly forthcoming.

Trisha explained, "Lowenah designed our worlds - this entire mortal universe - to be self-contained and, by placing her immortal power into it, assured that it would continue on by itself for eternity...that is as long as the universe functioned as it was designed. Intelligent life is always at war with the mechanics of the universe. To prevent those mechanics from harming or destroying independent life, the mechanics were made weak, Lowenah limiting the power they could exert on independent thinking, albeit instinctive or free will. This would continue to work fine as long as all living things remained in harmony with the music of the universe, producing a symbiotic relationship of sorts between the mechanics and independent thinking."

Trisha looked up at the darkening sky. Already countless stars were twinkling their hypnotic lullabies. "Your kind has long studied the secrets of this universe through your EbenCeruboam. You speak of three elements composing all things, those elements not to be confused with my earlier statements. The third element has always escaped you, so many theories abounding so as to make one's head swim. Yet I tell you, it is no real secret, for it abounds in our new king, Mihai."

"Really?" Chasileah exclaimed in surprise. "What is it? Tell me, please, so that I may also know."

Trisha laughed, "Ask the king, yourself, for she can spell it out much better than I." Her face grew grim. "I will tell you this – no, these things: The third element is a power that can infect intelligent life, be it angel or human. Like a virus it grows until every fiber of one's soul is saturated with it. This virus produces a music, so to speak, that bonds the ether to all other elements. The stronger the third element, the stronger the universe, but what your EbenCeruboam does not discuss is that there also exists a fourth element that is nearly as powerful as the third, and it acts like a virus, too, but sings to our destruction."

"What?" Chasileah cried, concerned. "I know nothing of this. Please share it with me."

Trisha nodded that she would. "As I said, powerful is your brother, having received gifts from beyond this mortal universe, from back in days of innocence when Lowenah was preparing him to rule over all these worlds. The man is mortal, but does not age or decline in health, even though he has become more degenerate than the Stasis Pirates. His life cannot be extinguished by time alone. It must be brought to a finish in later days by the one appointed. Please believe what I tell you, for not from my monkey reasoning did I acquire this knowledge, but by sword and healing did it come to me."

Chasileah in sadness considered the great hurt her pernicious ridicule had caused. For a lifetime, Trisha had suffered the abuses of an ignorant and arrogant society, and now she, Chasileah, an Ancient of high order had sunk to delivering little more than jealous insults to a person seeking only to rescue her people from their own damnation. Little could she say now in apology. Even begging forgiveness would not win a cure. Her arrow of bitter reproach had pierced Trisha's heart and there was no returning it to the quiver.

Trisha gestured as she went on. "Since before Time's founding was the fourth element theorized, and that only in passing, Lowenah's heart refusing to study it further. You see, the third element is eternal, being part of and from Lowenah. It is a sweet, beautiful music that flows gently through everything, for she is in everything, in a way.

"But this fourth element? It is a cacophony, a musical discord that can only come from an intelligent mind that is deliberately twisted and bent away from the third element. Until your brother rebelled, there had never been a mind twisted so that this harmonic deviltry could be produced. So until that evil moment, the effect of discord upon the Universal Webs was only an unstudied theory."

Trisha stared at Chasileah knowingly. "Oh, yes, others of your kind knew of it, but nothing was ever pursued."

Chasileah winced as if in pain, but said nothing.

Trisha raised a hand, shaking a finger. "Now here's the rub..." She covered her face with opened hands, massaging tired eyes with extended fingers. "Not only does Asotos' musical discord back-feed into other dimensional Webs beyond our own, it is also infectious like a virus, feeding the animal in a careless heart. Like the third element, it grows in strength the further the infection spreads."

Chasileah interrupted, asking, "So you're saying that this fourth element is some kind of a threat?"

"Not just some kind of a threat..." Trisha exclaimed, "It is an extinction level threat!" The woman shook a finger, declaring, "These evil harmonics are slowly consuming our worlds as I speak. But that is not the worst of it! It has been theorized by those far wiser than your sages that the musical discord will eventually reach beyond our worlds and into the very fabric of the universe, including the Web of the Minds, weakening the ether and unraveling all mortal elements."

She turned and peered into the distance. "It is possible that the Middle Realms might not dissolve into nothing, they being made of somewhat different stuff than the other Realms, yet hope for survival would be dismal at best for any making escape to those worlds. In time, their bodies would become little more than machines running on lizard brains, all power of intelligence destroyed when the Web of the Minds disintegrates. Eventually, even that form of life would turn to mist, leaving a cold, empty universe. In time, even it might dissolve into nothing."

Chasileah's head ached as ancient visions awoke in her mind. Trisha did not disclose secrets unheard. Long ago, in a time almost forgotten, she had been warned of the same fate should her kind fall asleep in forgetfulness. And fall asleep they did, were still sleeping. Was it too late an hour for wakefulness? She thought not, for here stood the messenger sent by the Watchers to wake her people. But to do so, she must destroy their souls by exposing their guilt. No wonder the woman was hated so.

Through pale lips, Chasileah begged, "Tell me there is hope for us, for our kindred who rest in the Web of Forgetfulness. Please say it is so. I see you are a prophet of the gods, the torch-bearers of Lowenah's heart."

Trisha scowled, "A waif of disputable value... I am no prophet." Then she nodded, answering, "Yes, there is hope."

Chasileah was disturbed by Trisha's estimation of herself, yet did she not feel the same way? Seeking more information, she pursued the discussion. "You speak with dismay. What poison swims in the sweet wine of Destiny's success assured?"

Trisha smiled grimly, "Poison, yes, and we all must drink the hemlock up to the full. Little it matters our individual destinies, our lives or deaths during this coming war meaning nothing if we do not stem the destructive tides slowly drowning our universe. Prepare to gulp down the gall whether you stand proud the battle line or cower in hidden caves. Yet there is still hope if enough join the fight, resisting the evil tide."

She reached out, gently grasping Chasileah's upper arm, her eyes searching for understanding, acceptance. Any feelings Chasileah might have shown in her face were hidden in the evening shadows. Trisha looked down at the flagstone, her fingers gradually sliding from Chasileah's shoulder and falling away after reaching the woman's elbow. Turning, she stared off into the tower's dark entrance.

Trisha started speaking toward the opening as if addressing the nameless ghosts hiding beyond the shadowy passageway. "I seek no condolences or sympathy. The road I have taken was not forced upon me, yet someone was condemned to take it. Why not me? Give me grace, then, and allow me a restful sleep so my mind will be clear for the coming battle. I ask only to be judged by a court of my own peers. Whether for murder or glory, allow them to decide."

Turning about, she rested a hand upon the outer wall. "Lowenah, your mother, has devised a plan, a very dangerous one, and I have promised to carry it out. Time is not on our side, the Rebellion having already unleashed its destructive discord against the Web. Yet it is time that we must buy, stretch out, so to speak...lengthen in order to succeed in this contest.

"Shiloh must grow and mature. Then, if he wins his contest against the Evil One, he will need to be taught in all the ways of the North. Shiloh must learn to deliver mankind from it own damnation. By his own ruthless acts, he must save the world of men. If he fails, then Elijah will not come, and the universe will dissolve into nothing anyway. Only this man, Shiloh, has the power and ability to end for all time the Rebellion we are attempting to curb."

She sighed, wearily shaking her head. "But Shiloh is only a child, not yet tested to fitness. He must be protected so that he can grow into the role he is to play. We must buy him the needed time to grow, and then finish his training so the world he will save."

Chasileah asked, concerned, "How does this coming war do these things?"

Trisha answered sadly, "It is feared by Lowenah that this universe has few years before it will lose it cohesive strength, plunging it into black nothingness. We must rid the universe of Asotos' presence or die trying. We must drive him into the Realms Below. It is our only hope. The Second Realm was cracked long ago by global fire and flood. It produces a harmonic discord of its own that helps to nullify the evil effects produced by the Worm. It's a pretty tough place, at least in comparison to here."

She lifted a hand. "There are powers in this universe that do not abide by law or rule. Lowenah's promise to Asotos to stay out of any coming conflicts until all things are settled does not bind those powers. Still, no help will we receive from them until we have been used up to nothing. We must either drive our enemy from these worlds or be consumed to extinction in the coming conflagration if we are to hope a future for this universe and those of ours who rest in the Web of the Minds."

"And of Shiloh?" Chasileah wondered.

"Ah, that..." Trisha explained, "This coming war will not end quickly, cannot. To make our enemy bleed, we must also bleed. It will take a great deal of time to drive that bastard, Asotos, from here...decades maybe, but..."

"But what?" Chasileah asked.

Trisha smiled, "But such a war will distract Asotos, make him keep his promise not to interfere with things in the Lower Realms until matters are settled here. It gives the boy time to grow up, unmolested. When the Worm sees our determination at his ruination, he will focus all his energies here in an attempt to stop us, thus forcing him to put on hold his future plans for that world."

Looking toward the spaceport, Trisha confessed, "The destiny of all things rests in our hands. It is not if we succeed or fail in battle that will decide the future fate of all living things, but whether we endure all the way to the end, either our own end, or driving Asotos from here."

Chasileah questioned her, "How can you be so sure of such success?"

Trisha smiled, "Lowenah cannot lie, nor any power that comes from her immortal self. Voices have told me so. That is all I will say of the matter."

Becoming silent, Trisha leaned upon the parapet, staring out at the night. Chasileah quietly studied this woman, a foreigner in her world. What was it about these creatures, anyway? Loud, crass, arrogant in the extreme and passionate, there was a fire that burned deep within their souls hotter than all the boiling furnaces in the galaxy, Lord Trisha being a sterling example. Chasileah could feel a tinge of jealousy growing in her heart to have those same flaming emotions.

Trisha finally broke the silence, commenting, "I hear you dress in the uniform of the Postal, but you carry yourself like a skilled and taught soldier. A colonel, I heard Zadar say, but only a colonel? Rumor has it that you have turned down promotion on several occasions, wishing only to lead others into death and not command them to do so."

Chasileah turned away, a tear falling ever downward in the evening's shadows. "I work for the Postal, Commander, not because I enjoy it, but to maintain my sanity. You preach well the ending hour and the calamity it may bring. The ending hour of my life came long before this world burned. It is bad enough to pay the butcher's bill leading from the front, but to order the deaths of those innocents while hiding behind sheltered rocks?"

She looked back at Trisha. "If your desire is to have me rejoin the Army, then I must disappoint you. Have I not already proved my valor to sufficient extremes? No, Lord Trisha, I will offer my services in other ways, but leading soldiers to their deaths I cannot."

Clasping her hands behind her, Trisha replied, "I wish for your services in other ways. There is a great need for an officer of your caliber on my staff."

Chasileah's eyes bulged as she exclaimed in ridicule, "What is with your kind? Can you not hear the Spirits whispering denunciations of my crimes? Can you not see the damnation of my wicked, selfish acts? Must I spell out in your monkey speech the reasons for such a foolish request or has the sun burned those senses from your mind also?"

Trisha again ignored Chasileah's outburst the same as she had Mihai's before the prisoner exchange. A knife blow to the heart need not be fatal if the cure is swift and sure. Trisha had invented her own cure, ignoring such outbursts, pretending they were for another soul, a wicked little creature often beaten by a drunken father in a blind, forgetful rage. Yes, let the wicked little child take the blows. Elaia, the observer watching from afar, would intercede at the proper moment and set matters right.

"So," Trisha asked politely, "please do. Spell out in my simple speech your reasons."

At first dumbfounded, Chasileah finally took a step forward. Pounding a finger into an opened palm, she hissed angrily, "Let me spell it out! It was my stupidity that cost the lives of eighty percent of my regiment! It was my selfishness that saved someone no more deserving life than so many others! I ordered my command forward, so sure of a victory that I failed to reconnoiter the field. I saved Zadar because I wanted his cock tease, while allowing the murder of so many others because...because my lust was not as hot for them! I wantonly and recklessly brought ruin to my regiment because I saw only what my heart wished to see!"

Placing a hand to her chin as she nodded in thought, Trisha allowed time for Chasileah's passions to calm. She then quietly made reply, looking into her face. "Yes, and I do believe you would do it again should the same moment be upon you."

Chasileah gasped, her ears not believing what they had heard.

Before she could respond, Trisha continued, "As high commander of the Army of Children's Empire, I must make decisions that will consign many, many Zadars and NiShanderiahs to the fires of Hell's Kitchen. My mouth will declare the time of death for countless millions of innocent lives. Heartless I am, as you well know. It's in the blood of my kind, as you have said. Zadar is the only man who excites me so with his cock tease. I need someone close who will remind me of the countless Zadars that warm other's beds as my lover does mine."

She then announced, "Any officer on my staff has the freedom to speak about any matter openly and frankly to me in private counsel. I will at times need a heart filled with passionate understanding that can communicate to me in simple speech the reasons why I should reconsider my decisions. I believe you are the most qualified of all of Lowenah's children to do such a thing for me."

Chasileah did not know how to respond. What could she say to such a reply? Her supreme failure was the very asset this person wanted. If she revealed greater crimes, might they not also be eagerly sought for their value?

Trisha drew close, standing only inches from Chasileah's face, the field marshal's sweet breath softly caressing her cheek. "I ask no answer from you this eve, but only a very small promise."

Chasileah wished to make a caustic reply to drive this intruder away, but the softness of Trisha's pleading words carried a sensual refrain that stirred more than just her heart. It was a spell being cast, that was for sure, the opiate too powerful to be completely ignored. 'A very small promise.' Wary she was, but curious, too. Could she live without knowing if she walked away now?

"What promise?" Chasileah asked in a voice both sour and inquisitive.

Trisha drew closer, her lips almost touching Chasileah's, her eyes opened wide with desire. "Only this..." Again the sweet sensuality softly brushed across Chasileah's cheek. "Three days hence, Zadar and I will be at a council in the Upper Palace. Promise to ponder your decision until that hour and then come to me there. Tell me, face to face, what your decision will be. I, for my part, will not argue or attempt to dissuade you should you choose not to accept my offer."

She reached out again, gently caressing Chasileah's lower arm. "Please, my sister, I beg that you do only this one thing for me."

Chasileah's heart pined for more than a gentle touch. 'The witchery of Anna!' she thought, troubled, but oh so much more desirable, for Trisha's music was sung not only to the flesh, but to the spirit - and oh so much more addictive! "I...I will come," she promised while seeking to find the lips of the woman singing such hypnotic melodies to her heart.

Trisha stepped back ever so slightly, her eyes twinkling, revealing a hint of reward only if Chasileah delivered upon her promise. Placing an opened hand over Chasileah's heart, she cooed, "I long to see you then. Please remember this heart that pines so for your company. The man we both love shall also be waiting there by my side in that hour."

Chasileah's body trembled with chained desire. Not since Tolohe's loving touches so many eons ago could she recall such wild, beastly passion welling up within her breasts. Trisha had gotten into her head, casting an unbreakable spell over her. This was impossible for a child of... "I will be there," Chasileah answered longingly, her spirit hoping for more than conversation. She stepped back on wobbly legs, reaching for the tower wall to steady herself.

Trisha smiled, her face reflecting a cooling passion. "Tell me, please, in that hour what our fates are to be." She placed a finger upon Chasileah's lips. "Tell me then of choices made. Keep my heart in suspense until that hour. I will be waiting."

Chasileah dumbly promised, falling on Trisha in a lingering hug. Eventually, she stood back, offering her parting salutations, walking away from the tower wall, fading into the blackness, soon appearing on the street below.

Trisha watched silently as Chasileah made her way across the street and hailed down a lorry heading for the spaceport, quietly contemplating the evening. How much she wished Zadar could be with her tonight! She wrapped her arms about herself in lonely desire.

At that instant, a shadow moved out from the blackness of the tower opening, a voice whispering, "Full of surprises you are. To use your erotic charms in forcing the battle was unexpected, and to witness the mastery with which you wielded them was even more so, your witchery being greater than I perceived. Successful you will be, we will be. Our girl will come around, of that I can assure you, if not for our patriotic cause, then for the cravings of a flowered bed of juniper down."

Trisha shrugged sadly, "My witchery is only that taught me by my inner voice." She looked out into the night. "Your kind are so strange to me. Dirty I feel for seducing the woman, seeing I have sold my flesh for a promise. So strange...so strange that I do not understand it at all. You see, while I detest such sexual trickery, at the very same moment I shake with excited desire to deliver up the price I have offered."

The shadowy figure replied, reaching out and taking Trisha's hand, "Seduction? Prostitution? The selling of the flesh? I wonder, do the flirtatious acts practiced to gain the bed of another not also constitute wanton acts, the selling of emotion to gain the flesh of another? Yet my people make an art of that game, we revel in it. My touch, now, is suggestive, wishing you will satisfy my passions. Though I offer you a gift, it is my lustful desires that cause my heart to offer such an exchange in the hopes that I may buy your romance by my request."

Trisha reached out, running her fingers through long, wavy hair, grinning, "You need not seduce me, ever. Are we not already like one flesh in heart, soul, and mind?"

Stroking Trisha's hand, the shadowy figure encouraged her to climb the stairs to the tower's top chamber. "My Lord, the world is such a beautiful place when the morning's sun casts its first light upon these battlements. You have not sold your flesh for a promise. No, by your very words I could feel your honest desire growing for that woman. So now, while the heat still warms heart and soul, come with me and refresh your spirit. Let me be your Zadar for this eve."

Trisha swooned, purring with delight, "Oh, my lovely one, my lips are yours to caress, my breasts yours to devour. Give to me your sweet milk and I shall give you my sweet dreams. Where is there another like you? I say there is no one. No one at all..."

Silently, hand in hand, the two women disappeared into the blackness of the tower entrance, their gentle footfall on the upward steps gradually fading into the night.

* * *

The sun was setting beyond the western hills as Zadar eased the auto car to a stop along the shoulder of the road. Opening the window, he called out cheerfully to the woman standing near, "I had not expected to see you here. Can I give you a lift somewhere?"

Darla leaned down, resting her hands on the door of the machine. "My dear little brother, I fear your visit is not a social one. Before you bring the storm, I wish for you to see the fruits of my labors. Now leave with me on foot for the village. There's someone I must have you meet."

Zadar hopped out of the carriage, reaching out to give Darla a hug and kiss. Darla stopped him, holding up a hand, palm out. "Whoa! We've got other things to do!"

Throwing his hands up and jumping back a step, Zadar expressed surprise.

Grinning, Darla pointed to a small duffle bag slung over her shoulder. "Get out of those things and into these. I need you to look presentable for my girl." She grabbed the bag and pushed it into Zadar's arms. "Hurry up!"

As Zadar dumbly stood there, astonishment growing on his face, Darla, her eyes twinkling, reached out and pulled him close, placing a tender kiss on his lips. She cooed, "Please hurry. The child's not ready for our world yet. I need you to slip into hers for a while."

Zadar obliged his sister, good-naturedly carrying on about the sacrifices he was making, how uncomfortable and uncomely the clothing was, and the need to leave a climate-controlled machine to go for a laborious walk on such a hot, humid evening. By the time he was finally ready, Darla was nearly in stitches with laughter, the fellow's ranting usually affecting her so. The two headed down the road, hand in hand, Darla chattering on, describing her darling prize to this trusted companion.

When they came near their destination, Darla stopped, illumination from the mellow glow of the street lamps revealing her serious concern. She warned Zadar, "The child is a delight to be sure, but please do be careful." Holding up a hand to show a healing wound, she explained, "I do bleed, I don't have wings, I can't fly, and... and there are so many other things I can't do that the child believes I should if she is truly in Heaven. Do be careful or you might get stuck to see if you bleed, too!"

Zadar was taken aback. "So the girl is dangerous? Not mean, is she?"

Darla shook her head, denying it was so. "My child is innocent of heart and she cares greatly for me, but I do believe her carelessness with the kitchen knife was not entirely accidental. You see, she has not yet come to fully accept that she's...she's died and come back...back to a world far from her old one. All the time she's putting things...me to the test, trying to satisfy a curious mind, I suppose. Ishtar does not understand our physical limitations yet, that we're ordinary mortals and can be damaged. She so much wants me to act like the angels of her fabled tales."

Zadar asked cautiously, "So..."

"So," Darla pulled Zadar close, "I want you to be careful and on your guard. Drorli is the only other male of our kind that she has come to know well at all, and he has kept his distance for the most part out of her reach, sort of. I want you to get up near to her, touch her and let her touch you, but do be careful."

Zadar puzzled, "Why? I won't let her stick me with a knife."

"No. That's not it at all." Darla fussed, "Look, she and I have...well, we have been close. She knows what I look like, feel like, my touch and smell. Drorli informed me that the girl's feelings for a man have not yet waked, won't for some time. Still she's very curious, and might well, you know, wonder what's under your clothes. I leave it up to you to decide what limits she's allowed. But please don't think she has any amorous ideas. If you respond to her assumed advances with flirtatious actions, well I just don't know what might happen, but I doubt it will be pleasant. She doesn't speak highly of men at the moment."

Zadar promised that he would be careful to act only in a properly noble manner.

Darla thanked him, and then added one additional warning. "Oh, and she has tired me out pressing to have an audience with God. Please don't give her any false hopes or fill the poor child's mind with any whimsical tales that have no place in reality. I doubt she will be able to separate fact from fantasy."

Zadar chuckled, "Mother warned you about this one! Said you'd have your hands full. If I recall, she said the girl reminds her a lot of you. I guess she's getting her revenge."

Darla smiled, taking Zadar's hands. Looking into his face, she confessed, "I've shared with her in the celebration of the blood."

Frowning, Zadar was surprised and troubled by Darla's revelation. "So unpredictable it is! We've been cautioned about doing such a thing with our new arrivals. You know how little control a person has over the dreams of a blood share - dangerous to flood her unlearned mind with our overwhelming knowledge and life's experiences. Are you sure the girl wasn't struck dumb by the dreams she witnessed?"

"Please, little brother," Darla rested her hand on Zadar's chest, "you know I would do nothing with my charge until conferring with Mother. Indeed, I believe she put me up to it in a way, or at least encouraged it by reminding me of the blood grape wine curing on the dregs in the caves deep under Palace City. Both Drorli and Eurawha thought it an acceptable thing to do, considering..."

"Considering what?" Zadar asked, curious.

"Considering the child's obstinate refusal to accept where she is and the things that have happened over the ages." She sighed, glancing down while slowly stroking Zadar's arm. "We're running out of time. Gradian's Clock has already struck the midnight hour and there is no returning. War is upon us as we speak, and that child of mine must be ready for the part she is to play in it."

She looked back into Zadar's face. "You need not have worried about that child's mind being overwhelmed. It is me who was nearly bowled over from the visions she pummeled me with. Mother has revealed secrets to Ishtar that few if any other than the most ancient of our kind have knowledge of, let alone crystal clear dreaming visions."

As a flirtatious smile grew on her lips, Darla added, "One day I may share them with you if you're a good boy and tease me properly."

Zadar assured her that he would do just so, a dark shadow of guilt covering his heart because of the evil he feared Darla must pass through if he was to succeed with his plans. He said nothing, regretting his mission.

They walked on until arriving at their intended destination. Glancing down the walkway toward the humble building, Darla sighed with longing dismay, "I love her like no other soul I've known! My heart burns to be at her side as it does for my Lord Euroaquilo. We now share one blood, one heart, and one mind, but..."

"But what?" Zadar asked, curious.

Staring into his eyes, she mourned softly, "But I know we must part soon, for I have seen it in dreams, dark and foreboding. When we do meet again, we both shall have been changed, into what I am not sure, yet the restless Spirits warn me that this night is the last hour of our sweet innocence. Tonight you shall see to the murder of my heart, and before I return from my dying days, the child will have grown into the demon monster of prophecy and I forever changed by my monster within. Then, at a future day, on the blistered plain in front of Legion's city, shall we both join ourselves together in our demon love, drinking up the blood of the king of Memphis."

She placed a finger over the lips of a distraught Zadar. "I knew of your coming arrival earlier this very day. As I lay wrapped in the arms of the child I love so much, the Whispering Spirits came to me in my dreams, asking me to obey your voice. Those same Spirits have shown me the dark and troubling distress that awaits me should I obey you, but there is nothing else for it. You bring the light by causing the darkness. By your foreboding revelations shall the universe be saved and our mother regain her honor."

Zadar could only silently nod, fearing that even a tear might ruin his darling sister. Who was there braver than this woman, more willing to sacrifice everything out of love or, who was more misunderstood, more maligned, more estranged? Darla was special. It cut at Zadar's heart to know that he wielded the knife that would destroy what innocence remained in his sister's life, that he was cursed to bring the little peace she had found in the arms of her child to a finish.

Darla grinned, "We have a bit of time before that hour, and I want to live it to the full. Wipe that frown off you face. Put on your happy smile. Come, so much I want you to see the fruitage of my belly, the product of my virgin birth. Celebrate with me my renewed coming of age."

The evening went well as Zadar had expected, even if not as he anticipated. Hanna and Symeon had occupied Ishtar's time while Darla went in search of Zadar. They had just finished baking some sweet bread pastries when she and Zadar arrived. While everyone sat about the table eating the delicious treats, Drorli and Eurawha stopped by for a chat. It was late into the evening before the company retired, Eurawha promising to return a little later.

It pleased Zadar to have so many people about when he made acquaintance with Ishtar, allowing him opportunity to discreetly observe the girl in a more formal setting. He found it interesting that the child took well to Hanna and Symeon, yet still held her feelings in check, imagining that a little doubt still lingered regarding whether the two were really who they claimed to be.

The girl treated Drorli with a cool politeness that warned him of her lack of trust, Drorli possibly representing to her the authority in this land. On the other hand, the girl was very affectionate with Eurawha, Zadar feeling that the two had developed more than just a casual friendship, at least emotionally if not physically. During this time, he and Ishtar exchanged few words other than a brief introduction.

Ishtar walked Eurawha to the door, the girl's disappointment having been swaged by the woman's promise to return. After a tender kiss, Eurawha departed, leaving the three alone. Darla wasted little time acquainting her treasure with Zadar. Much to Zadar's surprise, Ishtar took quickly to him. Although remaining courteous, the girl's continued glances and undue attentiveness made him wonder if Darla was correct regarding Ishtar's feelings. Still, Ishtar treated him differently than she had Eurawha, and especially Darla.

Before the evening was over, Ishtar had taken to Zadar like an adoring younger sister does an older brother. She finally sat down, resting her head in opened hands as she leaned forward on her elbows, staring into Zadar's face. Eyes twinkling, she dreamily commented, "You remind me so of my father."

Pleased but surprised, Zadar asked, "How so?"

"Oh," Ishtar rolled her eyes in thought, "I think it must to be the way you play with your words, always finding just the right tune to make them fun to listen to. Father could dance a tune as he talked, just making you want to hear everything he had to say."

Darla leaned over, wrapping an arm about Zadar's and kissing him softly on the cheek. "See, I said my child would take well to you."

Ishtar, who had been closely observing Darla's amatory tone with Zadar during the evening, finally asked, "Is this man your husband or husband to be?"

Unprepared for such a question, Darla stammered, attempting a reply. Zadar interrupted, answering, "This woman and I are bonded by heart and bed, for that is the custom of our people, but marriage is not a curse we cast upon any man or woman. Do I love this person? Oh yes, more than most! But never shall I chain her to me by vow or command such as your kind has done, to the ruin of many lives."

Ishtar sat upright in surprise, disturbed. "So to the wolves one can be cast by a mere whim since no power binds you here? What of children or poverty? Should evil find the woman through sickness or old age, with no protection through law, what becomes of her? Is she cast away to fend for herself?"

Zadar's answer was gentle, but pointed. "Your kind, even with binding laws, through conniving ways, cast the tired, aged and sickly out into the street. Often those who hold sway over the people will resort to murder when they tire of an unwanted mate. No, my dear, laws are for the lawless, which your kind has proved to be all too often."

He pointed at Darla, who sat there concerned at where this conversation might be going. "No more could I hurt this woman than I could destroy my own flesh. Nothing there is that I would not do for her welfare. I need no law to bind her to me, yet for many women I do feel the same. It is the way of our people. The righteous children in this world need no laws, for they are already inscribed upon our hearts."

Then he pointed a finger at Ishtar, smiling, "You must step into our world and leave the foolish ways and dreams of your old one behind. Dead you did become. I know it for a fact, and brought back from the dead by the machines and machinations of our kind you have been. No mortal of your kind may enter our world until first passing through what you call 'death', at least not at this hour, maybe never. It is not my call to make.

"In this world, we do not make babies or become old and feeble. Like a maiden wife of your kind with her husband, seduction and flirtation are also common practices among our kind. As for binding law... through the union in celebration of the first two of our kind have all the men and women of this world been delivered into marriage and obligation, bound by the oath of heart to care for the wellbeing of another unto death."

He frowned, observing, "This same would also have been true of your kind had your father, Adam, not rebelled against all that is good. The rape of Eve to produce your race was no bond into freedom but one into slavery. Yes, rape I say, because no love did Adam any longer feel toward the woman gifted him. Only to satisfy his carnal desire did he approach her. So what good did marriage serve the woman other than to enslave her to a lifetime of suffering, a gift that has been handed down to so many of the women of your kind clear to this day?"

Lifting a hand, Zadar closed his finger and thumb until they almost touched. "I tell you this: If your kind had love the size of a mustard grain, no laws would bind your kind, no long garments of fur would cover your hearts to protect the innocent. Even with childbirth, old age and sickness, the love like we share in our world would be same way in yours."

Ishtar sat there, mouth agape as she exclaimed, "I perceive you to be an angel of the Most High! Is it really so?"

Zadar paused, thinking. He finally stood. "I am the same in spirit as my sister here, as are you. Is she an angel? If true, then so are you. Yet, in this world are all the angels considered as men and women of flesh. Look and see."

At that, Zadar disrobed, standing naked in front of a rather embarrassed Ishtar. "As your father was, so am I, a man of flesh and blood. Our kind see ourselves as only human, the same as your father and mother were, only human. Oh yes, we do not grow old and die, but mortal we are and die we do when war or violence comes upon us. For our part, the gift of conception is not yet ours, but manliness and womanliness are as strong among my kind as any of yours."

He quickly dressed and sat back down at the table. Extending an opened hand, palm up, he explained, "Your king of old spoke of being conceived in sin, and yes, as children of Adam you all were, but my kind were not conceived so. You have been reborn into our world and are now like us, even more so, being born a new creation with an incorruptible heart. It is your kind, the ones reborn here that we call 'angels'. Our expectation is that your kind will live up to that name for us."

Ishtar was skeptical. "I do wish to believe what you say is true, yet, if it is so, then what of God? Here I live, trapped in a strange, bewildering, empty village with only a few souls visiting me. I am to believe I am in Heaven, but so far I have only been imprisoned, chased by wild monkeys, arrested by an officer of the governor, and...and so many other unpleasant things. If this is really Heaven, then show me God and His great throne of power. Then I will believe."

Darla was caught up speechless. Zadar smiled, nodding in thought before he replied. "Do be careful what you wish for. You might just receive it."

Ishtar slammed her fist on the table. "That is what I wish for! Deliver it and I promise, I will believe."

Zadar confirmed her statement. "Yes, you will believe then." He shrugged, "I will see what can be arranged. God is very busy, you know, what with dusting the stars off from the winter snows and seeing to keeping their lamps aflame."

Darla poked Zadar, signaling that was enough.

He was not quite ready to stop, not just yet. "I have friends in high places who might be willing to set a date for a visit to God's court. Mighty busy those fellows are, and don't like to be bothered needlessly, you know. I suggest you think up a good reason for such a visit. God doesn't take lightly to annoying little creatures out just gawking about. It should be something important for you to get an audience with the Almighty. Can you do that?"

Darla was beside herself, unable to decide whether to cry or laugh. Ishtar nodded in serious thought, promising that she could come up with something important to ask God. Zadar assured the girl that he would do his best to obtain an audience in the near future. Darla finally came to her senses and rustled up a little cheese and wine for a late evening snack. Soon everyone was chattering away about other less complicated subjects.

It was nearing the midnight hour when Eurawha returned as she had promised, helping to lift Ishtar's spirits after having been informed that her companion, Darla, must depart for a few days. It had been a tearful experience, what with Darla attempting to explain her need to leave and Ishtar's fruitless attempts to have her stay. "At least until the morning... Just one last night together, please!"

Eurawha's gentle touch and soft, cooing reassurances that the night need not be spent lonely and alone helped with the girl's mood. After Darla retrieved an aged shoulder bag hidden in a corner and offered several generous hugs and rather passionate kisses along with many tears of endearment, she and Zadar were off and down the road, heading out of the village.

Stars twinkled bright in the warm night sky when Darla and Zadar arrived back at the auto car, the moon already gone to rest behind the hills. The walk back was quiet, Zadar contemplating what evil he might possibly be delivering upon his sister, Darla lamenting being without the embrace of her darling child.

It was Darla who finally broke the silence. "Just before your message arrived this day, Crilen called, warning me that you might be up to something that could be rather unpleasant, saying I might do well not to take you up on your request. Puzzling, to say the least... Crilen and I get along well enough, but he's never really paid me much heed, and has avoided me completely since the Shikkeron incident before leaving for the prisoner exchange."

She took Zadar's hand. "If it weren't for the Whispering Voices in my dreams, I'd not think to accept your offer this night, fearing that some hidden dread might befall me. I've suffered greatly from my demon, as you already know. I do fear it's waking, should I not be able to control it any longer. What we do this night might release it to my waking world."

Zadar squeezed Darla's hand, brushing her face with his other. "Then we should do nothing at all. I, too, fear, even more so since your informing me that what I ask may be very dangerous. No, the gamble is not worth it!"

Darla argued to the contrary, "That's not true! If it's for Mother's sake, then it is well worth it, at any cost! I only mention Crilen because our relationship has always been rather strained. Rare have been our dream shares, I always getting the feeling of silent disappointment when our heated rush was over. Yet today he hinted at his desire to be with me, his flirting words attempting to awake my passionate desires as we spoke."

She looked into Zadar's face. "Smooth his speech was, too, and so rare has it been that a man asks for my bed. I nearly surrendered and ran off to be with him. Only the haunting call of the Whispering Voices and my desire to remain with my child for a few more moments halted my leaving and going off to him."

Saddened, Zadar quietly replied, "Crilen is much older, yet he has always seen to my best interests. After our discussion earlier today, he may have wanted to show you some special attention. He is a good lover, has a way with the women, makes 'em swoon over him, or so I've seen in my own dream shares with them. I'm sorry I messed it up for you."

Darla disagreed. "You make me feel warm and fuzzy. I know that you love me. A poor night of loving in your arms is better than even being with one as ancient as PalaHar...though that I wouldn't know. Still, you are so honest and caring with me. Whatever you must do is only because it must be done."

Turning away and peering up at the sky, Darla asked, "So you want to pick my brain, do you? Well I doubt there's much there to find. Hidden walls, locked doors, and empty chambers are about all you'll discover. Little use I'll be in revealing any secrets, my iron will as strong in my dreams as in my waking hours."

"Then it is settled." Zadar stood back, resting his weight upon the auto car. "I shall go my way this night, doing you no harm, and you can return to your girl."

Spinning about, Darla shook a finger, threatening, "You've dragged me out here away from my child, and now Eurawha is enjoying her warmth. You will not forsake me to the cold in order to salve a guilty conscience over your intent. You will take me up into those distant hills, and we will explore whatever adventures that may come together."

Zadar shrugged defensively, "But you said my probing would be useless. I..."

"So" Darla replied curtly, "a probe is all you wanted and if that could not be delivered, you had no interest in some rutting with a doe in heat?"

Standing there dumbfounded, Zadar made no reply.

Darla turned away, wrapping her arms around the ancient leather bag she was carrying. "Mother is worth more than a casual conversation or remorseful poetic prose. I have offered everything up to her, the same as you have."

She turned around, facing Zadar. "Does war ever end? If it is not the body being torn and ravaged in combat, does not the Worm still attempt to destroy the mind and heart? Yes, my little brother, we are still at war, in the middle of it. Our Mother's heart is at stake here. If you believe I might carry within my twisted, tormented mind a possible cure, then I am willing to risk all for you to obtain that cure."

Looking toward the road, she sighed, "One day, when the universe is freed of this present evil, generations will arise that have no memory of this hour, not having experienced its effects on spirit and soul. In that day, there will come ridiculers claiming that Mother's actions were harsh and inappropriate. It is our responsibility, our obligation, to settle in the court of public opinion our Mother's innocence. Whatever that takes, I am willing to do."

Staring into Zadar's eyes, she lifted the bag in her hands. "The cure... The cure may be just one sip away, or at least the unlocking of my sealed chambers. Ripe and powerful is the wine of the blood grape secreted here, and plenty there is to conjure the most vivid of wild, unchained dreams. Search my soul this night. To its very ending, I open to you treasures never given to any man or woman. Do this in search of a cure for our Mother's defense."

Cupping Darla's face in his hands, Zadar thanked his sister for her sacrifice. After a tender embrace and passionate kiss, he assisted her into the machine, musing "I know of a place not far from here, a moss-covered glen hidden deep in a forest of heather and evergreen."

Darla cooed, saying it sounded wonderful.

The auto car sprang to life, its engine humming merrily as the machine zipped away. In the sky, stars twinkled as the warm breeze welcomed countless winged night creatures. Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow would come. To the carefree little creatures skipping about, it mattered little. But for two hearts beating as one, it was oh, so very important.

* * *

The following morning dawned bright, the sun warning the world of a coming warm, sultry day. Mihai had excused herself after breakfasting and departed for the South Diamond Convalescent Center some distance north of Palace City. She was currently sitting in a breezy portico with her dearest Sirion.

Sirion was mending well. The hospital ship, LoriGee, rushed to a rendezvous with the fleet en route from EremiaPikros to EdenEsonbar. Sirion and the other freed prisoners were hurried aboard where surgeons waited. By knife and healing machine, the medical teams worked feverishly to repair broken bodies, while psycho-renewal chambers assisted to rebuild shattered minds.

(Author's note: _The term 'knife' was used for describing any form of invasive surgery where the body was opened to make repair or remove foreign objects. This included countless arrays of machines and tools as well as 'harmonic' or 'song medicine', where certain skilled Ancients used finger manipulation combined with audio interposition to perform internal surgeries._

_Reconstructive surgery for non life-threatening injuries was a relatively new practice at the time, the feeling previously being that natural healing, although a gradual process, was sufficient, leaving the surgeons to tend to more serious physical injuries._ _The unprecedented volume of wounded suffering burns and disfigurement from explosions during the Great War hastened the development of proper medical facilities to treat that horrific disfigurement and mental trauma the war was inflicting. Not only were hospitals and sanitariums constructed to care for such injuries, hospital ships like LoriGee were commissioned to take that kind of treatment into the field_.)

Sirion's surgeries were many yet, by and large, the healing machines were allowed to do most of the work. Already the girl's breasts were in process of regeneration with the assist of skin grafts and injections of super hormones. Broken bones were mending, muscle and other tissue reforming, and even new teeth were beginning to poke through her gums. All in all, Sirion was quite pleased with the results as she preened before the looking glass she held up in her hand.

Mihai laughed, watching her child carry on with such merriment. Still it was not all rosy. She had been informed that Sirion still suffered from post trauma. At the present time, the girl made daily visits to the psycho-chambers, the medical staff feeling a few more days of that therapy helpful. But the surgeons feared nerve damage affecting her motor controls and ruined eye could possibly take years before they would fully heal.

It was this final diagnosis that bothered Mihai most. Sirion was a strong-willed child and was determined to get back into the cockpit of a fighter craft. Being relegated to driving a hack did not sit well with the girl's temperament. Since the beginning of her visit, Sirion had been pestering her with request to be released for combat duty. For much of the morning, Mihai was successful at changing the subject, which she was preparing to do again.

Sirion looked over from the mirror, grinning, her new teeth having recently become visible. "See, I'm almost fully healed. The nurses say only a few more days and I'll be good as new. Now what..."

Mihai looked at some flowers on a table near Sirion's chair, asking excitedly, "Are those jewel's weed? They don't grow around here, but off to the east."

"Yes," Sirion answered reluctantly, "Colonel Treston...you remember Treston, my Treston who I mentored? Well he's been made a colonel by the War Department, assigned to Army duties near the Oros desert. Supposed to start training new recruits, I was told. Well, he's come to Palace City to meet with some of the high brass. Early this morning, he paid me a visit." She confessed, "I've never been treated so special before, at least to the point of being fought over."

"What?" Mihai asked, curious. "Is Treston a threat in some way?"

Sirion denied that was so, explaining, "Oh no, a more polite and caring, gentle man I've not known, but I do feel strange when men spar over me like I'm some special treasure to be had."

"How so?" Mihai wondered.

"Well," Sirion remarked, "Treston was not my only visitor this day. I was sitting right here, admiring the flowers given me when Eutychus arrived to visit. He's been stopping by from time to time since my coming here." She looked up, dismayed. "They were polite enough on the outside at least, but if looks could kill, I'm sure there would have been bloodshed."

Mihai felt Sirion was making more of things than necessary, thinking it amusing. "Sounds rather sweet to me. Shouldn't you be feeling flattered?"

Sirion's opinion did not change. "No, those two weren't jousting in some flirting game the likes I've seen the men from this world do. Those fellows from the Lower Worlds play possessively. I noticed it when mentoring Treston. I felt his growing desire to own me, only breaking that spell by seducing him into the arms of other women. Eutychus and I have only known each other since the prisoner exchange. He's my saving angel, and we've been good friends since, but that is all. Yet I felt his heated desire this day to lay claim to me."

Thinking over what Sirion revealed, Mihai cautioned, "Selfish ownership is a common trait of many in the Lower Realms. That kind of baggage is known to be carried into this world by some of them. It is possible that you might get sucked into an unpleasant turf war if you're not careful."

Troubled, Sirion asked, "What can I do?"

Rubbing her chin while looking at the floor, Mihai answered, "Well, first I'd keep 'em out of my bed. That's for starters. Then I'd put 'em in their place if they start to get out of line. Let 'em know who the boss is, that you own your body and will enforce that ownership in ways unpleasant for them."

"How do I do that?" Sirion cried. "Treston's the only man from the Lower Realms I've been with. Unlike you, my lovers have been few. You've been around men of both Realms long enough to know how to keep them in line."

Mihai patted Sirion on the leg. "You'll do just fine putting them in their place. Those fellows learn quickly. Mind you, do be careful not to deflate their egos too far. Men from the Lower Realms have a passion that...well...is too valuable to risk losing."

Looking back into the mirror, Sirion mused, "I can always leave the matter go after getting back to my duties in a few days."

Mihai was not pleased. "The surgeons have not given you a clean bill of health yet. When you're up and about, we'll discuss your return to duties. Until then..."

Sirion soured, her reply caustic. "No child am I! A daughter born to the blood of war since the days after the Great Flooding I am! I've watched others with greater injuries than I return to battle, and with your blessing! I'm not your little baby and you not my mother hen."

Surprised, Mihai defended herself. "No mother hen am I over anyone, especially you! I have no intention of holding you back. If you want to get kil... Look, I just believe you need to heal a bit more. A few weeks or a month might be a much better tim..."

Sirion angrily cut her off. "Don't think you can brush me off with hollow promises! My body's been ruined by combat before, my returning to the Army at those times my choice. Since the Two Hundred Years War, you've coddled me, pushing me out of frontline duty by refusing my request to have the Review Council reopen the Chobine Incident, which would have proved that collision was due to mechanical malfunction."

"Dear," Mihai lifted her hands defensively, "times were very tenuous then. The carrier, Chobine, was engaged in another theater. I could not afford to call in the witnesses of the event to testify nor afford to pull officers out of combat to form a council. I..."

Sirion's retort was bitter. "There is no safe haven when death searches you out! I wished to ship aboard SharonGray as a pilot scout and patrol Eden's Gate, but you sent me off on Zephath to 'protect me'...your words. Well, SharonGray returned to port after a successful patrol. Need I tell you what happened to Zephath?"

Sirion's stinging question was like a blow to Mihai's midriff. She stammered as if gasping for air, finally stuttering, "I...I...I've...lost...so many. I...I can't afford...to lose you, too."

Sirion was noticeably upset. Not that she blamed Mihai for her capture on Zephath, but for seeing herself in Mihai's eyes as little more than a precious pet needing protection. Her dander was up, and at the moment she cared not the damage her verbal blows might cause. She spewed her pent up feelings remorselessly. "You lost me the day we drew swords together in the First Aphrodite War! I, along with the rest of my kindred, was thrown upon the altar of war to live or die at the whim of those Fates. A covenant I made with the damned with my first murder of one of Mother's children, and in that bed shall my heart and flesh remain until this Rebellion is finished."

With tears welling up in her eyes, Mihai cried, "You need time to heal, that's all! Just a little time! Take some rest..."

"I'll rest when I'm dead!" Sirion fumed. She leaned toward Mihai, her face clouding with smoldering fury, the girl speaking in little more than a low, guttural hiss. "How do you think I kept my sanity when riding the bellies of horses? By dreaming revenge, remembering the names of those torturing me, their faces, their genteel ridicule! Then, while my body was being mercilessly desecrated by those bastards, I would envision my hands doing the same to them, their screams and pitiable whimpering for mercy as I slowly tore the living flesh off their bones."

Mihai was caught up speechless, finding no words to make reply.

Sirion looked away, pitching the hand mirror against one of the building's pillars. "The surgeons have given me release to attend the upcoming council. Mother has invited me to it and I will not disappoint." She looked back at Mihai, threatening, "If you've not found me a command to join by that time, I will ship aboard SueTondie, its captain having already contacted me. The Wildcatters are looking for fighter pilots and they're not fussy as long as the person knows how to fly."

Desperate at hearing this revelation, Mihai begged Sirion in hopes to buy a little more time. "Please! Please be patient with me and I promise - promise to get you back in the pilot's seat."

"You've got two more days!" Sirion shook a finger at Mihai. "I'm not coming back here after the council! SueTondie leaves but two days after and I will not risk waiting to join another command on your whim."

"My darling! My little darling!" Mihai cried, becoming frantic. "Look, the admiral of the fleet, Gabrielle, is departing Palace City next week to take the new carrier, Sophia, out for its shakedown cruise. Three weeks following, it will return to make report and take on provisions for extended duty. If I can procure a writ from the admiral that you will be allowed to ship aboard before it leaves, then will you linger here a little while longer?"

Sirion trusted Mihai, but dared not trust only to her words, not this day. She tapped her opened palm with a finger. "You hand me that writ, signed by your admiral and sealed with your kingly ring and I'll consider it. A paper, in writing, signed and sealed!"

Mihai nodded, promising she would, her tears falling freely. Sirion was changed, full of venom and hate. Better to let her burn some of it off while walking the deck of a warship than to be consumed by it behind these walls. "I'll contact Gabrielle on my return to Palace City. It will be done."

Sirion relaxed, resting her head on the chair back while closing her eyes. "Thank you..."

The two sat there in silence as the morning sun gave way to early afternoon. Mihai eventually offered her leave, assisting Sirion back to her room before going. As she walked toward a waiting carriage, the new king pondered what she had earlier witnessed. It was very troubling to see her comfortable world crumbling about her, and not just with Sirion. No, like ravenous beasts after a long, hungry winter, her people were waking to seek the blood-feast of war. Every day the wolves were congregating in increasing numbers to the taverns and gathering places in search of old comrades or to outright reenlist.

Too long they had waited to rid the enemy from this Realm. It was no longer a matter of if but when war would come, and if Mihai did not bring it soon, the people would take it up without her. She was their goddess king, but now only a figurehead who would declare their day of damnation. A new leader stood before the crowds, her bloodlust clearly defined at the last council. It was her that the people worshiped, or what she stood for - complete and total war, no parley, no debate.

This time it would be a fight to the end. Death or victory, it mattered little to the people at the moment. The boilers were dangerously hot, the fires burning wild. Mihai must release that pressure, no matter the cost or her world would explode in uncontrolled mayhem. She must pick the hour, but it must be soon and for the right reason.

Oh, how she hated her very existence at that moment! Oh, how disgusting her very birth...

* * *

The raucous merrymaking from the evening's dinner was long since quieted down, several of the partiers having already departed via the Oros railstage for the leisurely ride over the ObebBailSoar Mountain Range west on to Palace City. The tavern near the Oros Low Station was slowly returning to normal with the comings and goings of its regular patrons, leaving the three lingering partygoers sitting quietly in a corner booth by themselves.

After lamenting Anna's absence, Jonathan, one of three at the table, wondered at just how crowded Oros was becoming. "Just since my last visit two months ago, there seems to be a fabulous gathering of peoples here. And all this talk about war! Has our new king been busy with proclamations I haven't heard about?"

Planetee, who was nursing a hard drink, swirled it about in the glass, wryly commenting, "That Anna gets under your skin if you're not careful! Let me warn you, little does that girl wander from home if it's not for some personal reward! You've not yet learned the arts of romance she's accustomed to. If that woman seeks your manly ways, it's for devious reasons not for your benefit." She looked up, staring into his face. "Keep it in your pants when around her if you wish for secrets to remain in your head! You're not in short supply of willing lovers in this world. Just let them know your need to rut and the doe will stampede you to distraction."

Jonathan's face reddened to crimson, stuttering in an attempt to make some coherent reply.

Jebbson, sitting across from the other two, began to laugh. "My dear fellow, if one does not wish for the sting of the bee, he must learn not to yearn for the honey."

"But I was only speaking about missing Anna's companionship, not bedding the woman," Jonathan declared, defending his honorable intentions. "We're...well, friends. I miss her company."

Planetee looked back down at her drink, swishing it about, chiding the fellow. "Anna can raise the ardor of Ardon, even if he's in a drunken stupor. Your eyes betray the lust you have for the woman. Lust? Yes, I say, for she leaves little room for love. But she can put a person's head in a tizzy - man or woman. She's a witch, an Ancient with outstanding powers. Now I warn you again, if you wish to keep any innocence about you, avoid that woman! She doesn't make love. She _fucks_...and for her benefit!"

Poor Jonathan was embarrassed and becoming flustered. Jebbson laughed again and lifted his cup of hot buttered rum. "Enough, my friend! This lady is providing an honest opinion. Thank her for her candor and let's be gone with it on to other matters, like why the gathering of the birds."

Jonathan slowly nodded, agreeing, thanking Planetee for her advice. He then looked at Jebbson. "So, professor, tell us why the crows of war have not been declared or even hinted at."

Jebbson grinned, "Oh, I didn't say hinted. Does one need to wait to see the driving snow and hear the howling winds to know that winter is nigh? Not at all, because around us are the would-be signs warning that season's hour. The flight of birds, the color of the leaves, the chill, frosty mornings are but a few of the signs, telling the wise one to prepare."

He watched two officers leaving the tavern. "War is coming, the signs of its nearing arrival everywhere. The breeze carries a tune of foreboding as cold as an autumn frost. So the birds' gather to the last great evening meal into death and destruction, the final celebration of unbridled living."

Extending a hand toward some other uniformed soldiers sitting at a distant, crowded table, Jebbson explained, "The gathering together and renewing of old acquaintances is the beginning of the celebration. Snappy music, jubilant slogans, wild parties filled with boasting, heavy drinking and exuberant merrymaking are but the beginning of the ritual. It will be such fond memories...the hearty handshake, passionate lovemaking, hushed confession, and...and all the things carried on at this early time that will warm the soul while the insanity of war crashes all about them."

After taking another sip of hot drink, he continued. "What you see now is not the storm surge of new recruits who will later rush to the colors when the cry for war is sounded. Currently it is the gathering of the veterans you are witnessing. Death and destruction, pain and suffering they well know, yet come to the blood feast to experience for possibly one last time the excitement and glory of living life to its highest. Or is it possibly to make amends to the already dead for having wickedly lived through the last holocaust while others did not?"

He shrugged, "Whatever it may be, they reunite for this one last hurrah with old comrades who also remember the last conflagration who with just a look or a nod reflect their understanding for what was, is, and will come.

"Yep," Jebbson took another swig of his drink, "it is this moment or others like it that make all the other mayhem worthwhile, the sitting and staring into the face of another soul who's been to Hell and back and understands...understands what it's all about. It keeps your sanity about you."

Leaning toward Planetee as he looked into her face, Jonathan asked, "Was it also that way with your kind before the Great War?"

Planetee searched Jebbson's eyes. "Your tongue is like that of an Ancient who has seen the world's ending from Lagandow's peaks."

Taking Planetee's hand, Jebbson replied, "Nay, my lady, but I perceive the feeling at Lagandow, wherever that may be, was little different than standing below Marye's Heights or in front of Lookout Mountain."

Planetee smiled sadly then looked at Jonathan, answering Jebbson's question. "No, my friend, the jubilant celebration is far more subdued now than then, the numbers of recruits filling this city to overflowing so much so that many were forced to sleep in the streets in those days before the war. We all believed the Great War was the final war of retribution and few wished to miss out on it. Songs of celebration at that time filled the heavens with joyous melody."

Clasping her glass with both hands, Planetee closed her eyes. "It was not the final war, but certainly the costliest up to that time. My people were swept away during those years of destruction like wheat before a reaper's scythe. Why, at Stargaton, in a forgotten little battle of that war, we lost more people than are currently assembled at the Army base east of Oros, in one hour losing twenty thousand."

She lowered her head in sadness. "I commanded the lead squadron of fighters during one heated contest for the city, the 'Rensselaers' our name with a fighting hawk painted on each ship. By the end of the day, of my two hundred fighters, one hundred seventy had tumbled from the skies. At roll call the following morning, only eleven of my fighter pilots reported for duty." She peered deep into her half-empty glass. "Over two thirds of those who rose to face the enemy with me on that day perished in the contest. Of those still able to fly, few survived the war and they were assigned to different squadrons, the Rensselaers having been disbanded."

Quietly lamenting the past, Planetee's words carried a tone of bitter remorse. "The Great War was to be the final war. The Serpent was to be driven from these worlds for good, or at least we believed it was to be. We put everything into it, all our strength, energy and might. We used ourselves up! The flower of my people lies buried in the Silent Tombs, in forgotten, rocky wastelands, or blown to ashes in some worthless star system."

She looked off as if seeing a vision of that destruction. "There are so few of us left who remember what it was really like back then, before that war...fewer still who share the memories of earlier times. To this day there are cities void of life because their inhabitants rallied to the cause never to return home...clans, peoples and tongues all disappearing beneath the wheels of war." Planetee bowed her head, appearing as if ready to weep, but no tears came. "Lovers and companions known since the world's beginning torn asunder and trampled into the mud and filth of that evil war..."

Jonathan marveled, puzzling at the things Planetee was telling them. His world had also been violent but for him little of war's mayhem had he personally experienced. Oh yes, he could grasp in his mind the occasional ruined ship, a company of dead soldiers, but to look upon a field of slain spanning a week's march? Too much! It was far too much for his mind to comprehend.

Pondering the magnitude of the horrors revealed, he asked Planetee, "What you have witnessed, my mind cannot even imagine! Tell me, please, where does one get the strength of integrity to carry on when surrounded by such destruction? How did you keep your sanity under those conditions?"

Planetee's face hardened, her reply abusive and bitter, challenging him with caustic rebuke. "You think me sane? Fool, my sanity fled my soul long ago! Tell me if you think me sane... The brains of sweet companions and lovers I have callously scraped from my clothing while hiding behind piles of rotting corpses and eating cold, maggot-infested food. I have covered my own flesh with the entrails of fallen companions to escape enemy capture. I have thrown lifeless bodies to famished sharks to escape their hungry jaws, clawed into the torn bellies of horses to keep from freezing to death."

Shaking her head in remorse, Planetee mourned, "Few are the things I have not done to keep this wrenched soul alive while others about me fell to damnation. No, sanity belongs to the righteous lot. Long ago did I lose that holy stature."

Planetee picked up her glass. "No, my friend, losing your sanity is the easy part. It's better that way...hurts less. The tough part is managing to survive when the quiet is upon you. One way is to turn yourself into a machine that thinks only when necessary and feels not at all." She then asked, "Do you know how long it has been since I sought out a little romantic comfort? I confess, I do not recall. Oh yes, I do ache at times for a man's touch, but the pain is far less than to ache over a lover's tortured death, stand over the shattered corpse of the one who once so excited your spirit."

The woman banged her fist on the table. "To endure the evil, you must learn to feel nothing...nothing! Then...then you might just survive..."

Jonathan attempted to make reply, but was speechless

Planetee twirled the alcohol in her glass, warning ominously, "Listen well to my words, for you will not escape my fate! You have not been delivered here to preach or lecture in some public assembly. Those days are long past for you. No, you are the legend of prophecy, one of the Death Angels, the Black Monsters arisen from the belly of Hell to bring my world to ruin!

"Your sword will rent the heavens with the blood of all mankind! You will consign both the wicked and righteous to Gehenna's fires, their carcasses being cast along the broadways across this galaxy! You will eat up our fleshy parts and devour our youth! You shall eat the flesh and drink the blood of rich and poor, old and young, man and woman, until drunk with Death's glory you are satisfied."

Jonathan was abhorred by what he was hearing. Planetee silenced him. "Don't resist it! It is your destiny. Your God ordained it and my kind has honored it. No, my friend, you cannot escape your future any more than I can escape my past."

She lifted her glass, drawing his attention to it. "Now, you can do as I have done...disown your soul and repudiate your sanity... or you can turn to this for help." At that, she tipped the glass up and gulped down the hard liquor. Setting the glass back on the table, she wiped her lips dry. "Truth be told, the stuff only lets you forget for but a moment, but the following sick headache helps to keep your mind off it a bit longer."

Jebbson spoke up, drinking the last of his rum. "The Lady speaks with wisdom, my fine fellow. Listen and heed what she says. It becomes easier when you view only the objective and ignore the means you're forced to use to achieve it. War can become quite fun if you...you know...stick to only the meaningless, cold numbers, forgetting the hearts and souls behind them."

Planetee peered into Jebbson's face, wondering the true meaning of his statement. His hardened gaze told it all. Here was a man who had surrendered up everything to attain the valued prize. There was no judgment or ridicule found in his eyes. The man understood well the price to be paid for such service and accepted without hesitation the cost. She puzzled about him, seeing that he had discovered a way to retain his sanity in the insane world of war. Did he have hidden knowledge from which she could benefit?

Reaching out and taking Jebbson's hand, Planetee silently stared into the man's eyes, hers pleading for understanding and sympathy. Jebbson did not disappoint, in only moments of quiet contemplation beginning to tear down her walls of guilt and self-loathing, renewing ever so slightly a desire in her heart to live and to love again. Whatever powers this man possessed, she wanted to experience more of them.

Jonathan suddenly broke the silence by calling out to someone entering the tavern, motioning the woman over. "Chesse! Chesse, come on over here. It's good to see you!"

Chasileah stood there, awkwardly wondering what to do, seeing that her former commanding general sat in the booth with Jonathan. Finally surrendering to the fellow's constant pleas, she slowly made her way over.

After politely sitting, Jonathan ordered Chasileah and the others a round of cold cider. Seeing a distraught look on Chasileah's face, believing the woman held her responsible for the ruin of her regiment at Bauglow, Planetee reached over and took Chasileah's hand, her eyes speaking volumes of pleading emotion. Whether Chasileah understood or not, it served as a curing salve for her heart to have it done so. The two women quietly sat, staring into each other's eyes while Jonathan and Jebbson went on about some rather unimportant issues.

Finally Jonathan asked Chasileah about her visit to Oros. She answered, "I was making some important deliveries for the Postal that brought me over this way. When finished with my duties, the last of the day's sky ferries was long since departed. I wanted to head back to Palace City tonight, so decided to take the twelve-thirty railstage back. It's a slow ride, but I can catch some rest on the way."

Jonathan leaned forward, smiling. "I was going to leave for Palace City in the morning, but have no reason to stay here tonight. Would you like some company on the railstage? I've got my pack with me. You said you wanted to get some sleep."

Chasileah was direct but polite. "I'm tired. It's been a long day, but yes, I would enjoy your company on the way back. Besides, keeping me company doesn't mean we need entertain each other the entire trip. There will be plenty of time for talking and napping."

Seeing the hour, the two stood to leave, Jebbson and Planetee doing the same. They all walked to the door together and into the warm, starry night, not parting until Jonathan and Chasileah passed through the doors of the Oros Low Station. Jebbson and Planetee stood there for some time until they saw the railstage begin its slow, ponderous ascent through the city for its next stop further up the mountain. Eventually it would arrive at the Oros High Station then make for the Obeb High Pass, over the mountains, and down the western slopes for Palace City.

Jebbson finally broke the silence. Taking Planetee's hand, he mused, "The sunrise is ever so beautiful when seen from the high bluffs above the city. I have a machine that can take us there in a jiffy. Can I talk you into accepting my invitation?"

Planetee blushed like a maiden experiencing her first flirting. "The pleasure would be all mine, my fine gentleman fellow."

Morning found Planetee waking to soft breezes drifting up from the valley below as the sun was peering over the hills, turning the sky brilliant hues of burnished red. Jolted awake by the light, she sat up quickly to take in the mesmerizing scene. Planetee looked about, noticing the scattering of clothing all around them. Leaning back on her hands, the woman closed her eyes, dreamily recalling their earlier romantic interlude that had so warmed her soul and refreshed her spirit.

The sun broke over distant mountains, casting its warm, golden glow down upon the two people high atop the bluffs. Reaching out, Planetee placed her hand on Jebbson's chest as he lay there sleeping. _Thump... thump... thump..._ the even beat of his heart warmed her, and his rhythmic breathing made her wish this morning would never end. Well, let it last a little bit longer. There was no rush, no hurry for the day to begin too soon.

Planetee slowly sank down beside the peacefully sleeping Jebbson. She snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Jebbson grumbled something inaudible, wrapping his arm around the woman and drawing her close. Soon Planetee drifted back off to sleep, two hearts beating in rhythm as though one.

* * *

"Why must you leave now?" Ardon whined. "Tomorrow's the council. Mother said you could come if you wished. Why must you depart on that...that old ore freighter, MoonDust? Dangerous it is, what with all those hot fuel rods for the outer reaches. Besides, SueTondie is making straight for the Trizentine when it leaves in a few days. The captain told me so himself. You will be home to Exothepobole in no time at all."

Tashi was kind but firm. "Now we've already talked this out. Mother was polite, but she knows I'm needed back home and soon. The Stasis are becoming bolder by the day. The collier, MoonDust, is a substantial little ship, comfortable and quite safe. It runs a tight schedule to Eneweah City on TilgathPilneser to drop off the last of its hot fuel rods before being off to Desiah with the spent ones. I'll arrive on TilgathPilneser just in time to catch the imperial starliner, Sunflower, before leaving on its monthly run for Exothepobole."

She fussed with the collar on Ardon's robe. "I will be home in no time. Besides, SueTondie is a Wildcatter rig. I trust the captain to his word no more than a fickle breeze. Well he may promise something, but just how easily he may forget it. Remember, until recently, our main means of transport was by that independent lot."

She tipped her head back and called out in a sailor's voice, mimicking the Wildcatters, "Today, tomorrow, what's the difference? As long as there is rum in the barrels, food in the hold, and fuel for the engines, what's the hurry? Tomorrow...there is always tomorrow."

Tashi laughed, then gently cradling Ardon's face in her hands, cooed, "It's not going to be easy convincing the population of Sustrepho the need to abandon their homes they have held dear for so long a time, yet that is what Mihai's council has requested I attempt to do. Already the colonies of the Trizentine are too lightly garrisoned. Should war come, the little support the Navy provides us currently may vanish, leaving us on our own."

Ardon whimpered, "Only a day or two... That's all, a day or two. There's so much more of the city for us to see."

Tashi shushed him, kindly chiding, "Tell me the truth. You want me to warm your bed for a little longer, don't you? Haven't got enough of me?"

Embarrassed, Ardon stammered a reply.

Tashi grinned, pressing her body against his. "Enough. Enough... What is done is done. But," she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her lips nearly touching his, "we have tonight. Do you want to waste it arguing about something you can't change, or do you want to explore other worlds with me?"

Ardon dared not continue the feud, at least not with this woman who drove him mad with passion. Oh, how he hated and loved her at the same time! After glancing about to see if anyone was noticing, he took Tashi's hand, the two scurrying off to some secluded place for one last night of indulgent delights.

* * *

"Oh, shit! I'm dying! I wish I was dead!" Darla's foul ranting was cut short as she fell to her knees and erupted in another violent outburst of vomiting.

Euroaquilo dropped the dish he was cleaning, rushing over to help. Darla heaved once more, puking up little other than bloody mucus. Cradling her in his arms, Euroaquilo attempted to support Darla's head with his hand. The vomiting bout finally came to a finish, leaving an exhausted woman gasping for breath, while a tiny stream of drool oozed from chapped and broken lips.

Since her blood share with Zadar, the girl had been sick, oh, so very sick - blinding headaches with fits of uncontrolled vomiting, bleeding from her eyes, ears, and other body cavities, and terrible, ghastly visions while sleeping and awake. Indeed, she had been in such a frightful state the first morning, Zadar had rushed her to Lowenah, fearing the girl was dying. Lowenah saw that she was very much still alive, but in a sorry condition, suggesting she be taken to Euroaquilo.

Even with Euroaquilo's curative efforts, the surgeon was called, her latest visit this very morning. Little could be done other than offer some mind-numbing painkillers, which worked for a little while on the headache, but not on the vomiting and severe diarrhea. When Darla took to bleeding in her tears, Euroaquilo reached out to Gabrielle, who managed to ease the girl's distress a little.

"She needs some serious bed rest," Gabrielle recommended, the one form of medicine Darla could not afford to take at the moment.

Euroaquilo was nearly in tears, pleading, "Please, go back to bed! Mother will understand if you can't be there! No one will question your decision to remain here. I'll inform them, telling them all about your sickness. I promise. I promise..."

Darla glared at Euroaquilo. "Damn you, don't do this to me! I'm going if it should be the death of me! I was invited! My heart tells me I must go. I will go. I..." The woman was instantly consumed in another bout of vomiting, passing out from the agony. Darla woke with her head on a pillow, stretched out, lying on a divan.

The surgeon quietly remarked to Euroaquilo, "I've given her enough to knock out a horse. It will stop the seizures for a while, and ease the headache. There's nothing left inside her to come out, so I believe she will be able to travel a bit, but I don't recommend it."

Darla waved an arm, fussing at what the surgeon said. Euroaquilo thanked the woman, walking with her to the door. When he returned, he kneeled down beside Darla, asking if he could get her something.

Gripping his hand, Darla made him promise, "Swear to me that you will see to my arrival at the council. Swear, even should it be only my dead carcass that you will get me there."

Dismayed, Euroaquilo promised to do just as she had asked. Darla relaxed, sighing, falling off, fast asleep.

It was early afternoon when the autotaxi pulled up to the south gate of the palace concourse. Along with the driver's assistance, Euroaquilo managed to get Darla up the granite steps and through the concourse doors to the tram waiter. The ride from there to the tram waiters' last stop up the north concourse just past the Winter Gardens was difficult for the girl. Moaning in agony, she sat, head in hands, the motion of the tram waiter almost unbearable.

Euroaquilo felt tremendous pity for his companion. She looked a fright – sallow-faced, sunken eyes and disheveled hair. Euroaquilo had done the best he could, but Darla was too sick to even bathe let alone primp in front of a mirror. Even the woman's comely form was lost in a saggy uniform, being down over a stone and a half in weight.

The distance from the tram waiter to the entrance leading off the north concourse into Lowenah's private world of the Upper Palace was not far, but for Darla the time it took felt like a merciless eternity. Euroaquilo offered to carry his charge, but she refused, saying her pride could not accept it. Eventually they arrived at the long-sealed, ornate doors that opened upward toward the palace proper. Unable to make the stairs on her own, she finally relented, permitting Euroaquilo to swoop her up in his arms. Refusing to set her down after ascending the magnificently carved rock-hewn staircase, Euroaquilo carried the girl the remainder of the way to a private theater buried deep within the palace butte.

Darla remembered little until being placed down in a chair some distance from the doors of the old theater. Yes, it was an old theater, secluded deep within the bowels of the butte under the Upper Palace proper, built during the ages of time immemorial. In fact, the story was that this theater was the very place where Lowenah brought Chrusion when celebrating his coming of age.

The Ancients called those labyrinths of chambers, commonly known only as the 'Theater', 'NakarHasabAhebYada', 'knowledge revealed through love's embrace', in memoriam of that long ago celebration. The oldest and grandest of the festivals, known as 'YadaAhedYada', was held in memory of that event on its very anniversary. It was also rumored that Lowenah convinced Chrusion to return there with her in the days preceding the Rebellion. Whether rumor or true, the leaved doors exiting from the Theater to the north concourse were sealed shortly after Chrusion's attack on Mihai.

(Author's note: _Little has been written regarding the Theater. I suppose an entire book could be devoted to describing this magical, mystical world of fantastical reality, but for the reader, allow the following to suffice._

First, I do recommend, if given entry by those ever-watchful Spirit Guardians, you should journey into that realm yourself, for only through one's own eyes, soul and heart can a person begin to understand the unfathomable magnificence of the place.

_Pronounced 'Theater' in the common tongue, the phonetic pronunciation found on the leaved entrance doors is 'Pru-cen-centheah-dourmie', meaning 'into the realms beyond'. Other than the hewn staircase leading up from the north concourse and the antechamber into which it opens, the Theater is solely the invention of Lowenah's hands. Those who are permitted to pass through the doors beyond the antechamber enter into a world of Lowenah's making, her handiwork. What one experiences there is by the will of the Maker of Worlds_.

_This I have discovered: the Theater itself is omni-dimensional, being of no measurable value, for it becomes whatever Lowenah wishes it to become. At times, the space may be warm and cozy, possibly rustic, with a flickering hearth fire or golden spheres dancing across the upper dome of the room. Another time there might appear to be endless tunnels leading to worlds defying all known laws of physics and nature. Whatever you might discover there, one thing is always for sure: your guide will be Lowenah's spirit and your adventure memorable_.)

Euroaquilo was called away by a fellow officer, Darla convincing him she was able to care for herself. She lied... About the time the girl believed she was going to fall into a faint, a friendly voice called out her name. Chasileah had recently entered the Theater with her new acquaintance, Jonathan. At seeing Darla's sickly condition, she excused herself, going over to the girl.

Darla said nothing when Chasileah sat down beside her, the girl too sick to speak. After someone found a pillow, she surrendered to the suggestion to rest her head on Chasileah's lap. In only moments, the sound of Darla's heavy, rhythmic breathing could be heard.

Jonathan quietly worked his way through the room until he stood behind the two women, telling Chasileah that Field Marshal Trisha was still in a meeting, but thought it would be ending soon. The man's body language revealed his desire to linger a while, but not wishing to risk disturbing Darla he quickly departed after asking if he could get either of them something. Chasileah thanked Jonathan, saying they were fine, her eyes following him as he walked away. The woman's anxiety growing, she chided herself for being there at all this day.

For some time she had lingered at a small eatery just inside the south concourse entrance, struggling with whether to face the new field marshal or slink away, acting the coward that she believed she truly was. After all, it was not the first time she had let others down. What harm could come with one more, her soul already condemned by the murder of so many in her charge! But what of Trisha's amorous advances? She quickly pushed those thoughts aside, feeling them to be the clumsy attempts of an inexperienced newcomer at exploitative seduction.

Chasileah was preparing to take her leave, guilt over breaking a promise or a desire to become better acquainted with Trisha insufficient reasons to stay when a cheerful voice called out to her. Looking up from the table, she spied Jonathan waving from outside the eatery doorway. Waving back, Chasileah studied the man in his crisp, new Army uniform, puzzled.

Grinning, Jonathan hurried over to Chasileah's table, offering pleasant hellos before commenting, "I was told you should be here today, and that I might find you at this very place. I was also informed that I should offer my hand to you and that we should be on our way, seeing that you have also been invited to the meeting."

"I...I don't know if I should," Chasileah replied. "The field marshal spoke with me about it, but I supposed another time to meet with her would suffice. After all, I have not been invited to the meeting other than to speak with the field marshal. I..."

Jonathan cocked his head, squinting. "I have not spoken with Field Marshal Trisha about this. Only this very morning, a courier delivered these clothes to my apartment saying that the good field marshal wished me to wear them this day. As for the meeting, I was asked to fetch you by some very strange fellows who said they knew you well and wished not to be disappointed by your absence."

"Who was it?" Chasileah asked, curious. "Did they tell you their names?"

Jonathan answered, "No, but they sure were important-looking fellows! Never saw anybody dressed up as bright and fancy as they were."

"Bright, you say?" A concerned look grew on Chasileah's face.

Jonathan thought about it, rubbing his chin. "Well, the fellows were wearing uniforms similar to the white dress uniforms of the Navy, except there was a sheen to them, sort of a glow, you might say. And their faces seemed to reflect that glow. Handsome they were, more so than most of the other men I've met here."

Bowing her head, understanding who they were, Chasileah slowly stood, taking Jonathan's hand. "Well, I guess we should be on our way. There's no escaping the Devil..."

"What are you about?" Jonathan asked, contorting his face in consternation. "What does the Devil have to do with it?"

"Come on..." Chasileah grumbled. "It's just something I say."

Jonathan was pleased to have Chasileah walking beside him. He attempted to express those feelings by paying her an awkward compliment. "You look so comely today, what with that very attractive outfit and your hair done up so pretty."

Her mind on other matters, Chasileah paid little attention, curtly brushing it aside with an offhanded reply. "I'm not in my Postal uniform this day, but still on business. Whatever may be on your mind will have to wait."

Jonathan blushed crimson, stuttering, "I didn't mean... I'm sorry if I have of..." He looked away, casting his gaze toward the walkway.

Chasileah quickly apologized. "No. No, my mind was on other things." She stopped and took Jonathan's hand, smiling, "I have never met a man quite like you, your kind being strange to me. I replied to you before thinking. Thank you for saying I look attractive today. To be honest, I don't feel it at all, at least on the inside."

She drew closer. "Those fellows you spoke about? They're agents of Mother...come around when she's doing something special. This meeting must be a mighty important event if they're dabbling in it today. That makes me nervous...well, a bit, seeing they and I have done business before."

Jonathan asked, concerned, "Are they dangerous? I mean, are you in danger coming with me?"

Chasileah assured Jonathan that was not the case. "No, well not in the way you're asking, but they can be quite persistent when they want something. I hadn't counted on them being here, not thinking this meeting to be of such great importance. And those fellows asking you to fetch me is somewhat bothersome."

"So this meeting is a big deal?" Jonathan asked, troubled. "And I was requested to be there?"

Chasileah answered thoughtfully, "Well, yes, I think it might be."

Jonathan's concern instantly turned to Chasileah. "So what do you think they want with you? It sounded to me like they wished to see you, but they said nothing about any meeting, and now you say you received no invitation. That, I only assumed..."

Patting Jonathan's hand, Chasileah reassured him, "Your Trisha may have had a word with them, possibly. After all, as you informed me on the railstage, King Mihai and she had quite a set-to on the morning of the prisoner exchange. Rumor has it that Mother chose to make her field marshal, even against the will of some of her counselors. If Mother did the appointing, then Trisha might have some clout with those fellows, and if she asked them to make sure I am there, well... I believe they'd oblige her."

Jonathan asked, "So who are they, anyway? You make it sound like they're not of your...well, quite like you. I'd think them to be Ancients, but..."

"But what?" Chasileah asked.

"But you're an Ancient, or sort of an Ancient, and you appear no different than any of your other siblings, other than I find you more..." Jonathan blushed.

Chasileah was curious. "But what, my friend? But what?"

Still blushing, Jonathan answered, "Well... more attractive than most I've made acquaintance with."

Pulling Jonathan by the hand, Chasileah hurried them along. "Time's wasting. We don't want to keep those fellows waiting."

Exiting the stairway, going up from the northern concourse into the antechamber, Chasileah and Jonathan spied two rather tall men standing by the doors leading into the Theater. They stopped, allowing others by, and then watched what happened. Each of the splendidly dressed officers smiled, speaking the new arrival's name aloud and extended a hand toward the doorway, bowing slightly as people passed through.

Chasileah whispered, "Those fellows are what we call 'Cherubs'. If they are watching the gate this day then it must be a very important meeting Mother's having, and only those invited will be able to enter."

Looking into Jonathan's eyes, she thanked him for escorting her to the Theater, but warned they might be parting. "I have no invitation from Mother. Lord Trisha wished to meet me here, so I should probably be requested to remain outside to talk with the field marshal. I wish you well my friend, and hope that we may meet again another time."

Jonathan replied in like, his eyes speaking volumes more. They then approached the Cherubs, Chasileah releasing Jonathan's hand. To each one's surprise, the Cherubs not only recognized Jonathan but also Chasileah, offering pleasant hellos and how pleased they were to see the woman, ushering them both inside.

Now Chasileah sat there wondering how she was ever to escape her audience with Trisha. Looking down at Darla who was in obvious distress, Chasileah could only feel all the more guilty over her own feelings. Darla had fought with all her willpower to make this meeting today, not even knowing what it was all about, only that Mother invited her. All that Chasileah wished to do was run away and hide, possibly bury her guilt in a bottle. Others had done no less, even great leaders like General Planetee. What was the harm should she do the same? She deserved nothing, was worth nothing, having failed so many times and in so many ways! How the Cherubs allowed her passage this day was beyond the woman's understanding.

From her place in the shadows, Chasileah watched the room slowly fill with people. It did not surprise her to see that most of the invitees were either counselors or officers. What did, though, was the number of ordinary and common children, a few not even of officer rank. Oh yes, great leaders like Ardon and PalaHar were there, but she wondered about those like Darla and herself - especially herself, a washed up soldier long ago turned Postal driver.

Beyond the main auditorium were several small meeting rooms that opened into a large dining area set up as a buffet with adequate seating. As various meetings broke up, the dining room slowly filled, people taking advantage of the many culinary delights prepared for them. From where Chasileah sat, she could look directly into the dining room through a tall, ornately carved archway. To her surprise, she saw other Cherub fellows dressed in white finery tending tables with trays of sweet breads and cheeses, pouring steaming cups of hot brew or delivering large glasses of chilled drinks.

Looking about, Chasileah noticed that all the attendants were Cherubs. Never had she seen this done other than when she was a child in the Palace. There she saw all kinds of magical things, including these strange people that Mother said were her stewards. The Cherubs were always trustworthy and helpful. Although that was the woman's first encounter with these Cherubs, it had not been her last. It quickly became obvious to her that Mother was very concerned about security this day and had taken measures to maintain it.

Jonathan and Mihai soon appeared in the archway, the two occupied in conversation. At one point Mihai looked over in Chasileah's direction, a somewhat surprised expression on her face. She then patted Jonathan's arm and smiling, motioned him toward a group of people standing near a buffet table. Chasileah raised her eyebrows at seeing Planetee and her three companions hailed by Mihai. Three? Contemporaries of Jonathan, at least two of them were...Paul and Symeon...but the third? Oh yes, Jebbson from another time, an interesting character to say the least.

As Mihai and the others joined in pleasant conversation, Chasileah watched the man standing so affectionately close to Planetee. This Jebbson had already acquired a reputation as a design engineer, but also with the women or so she had been told by Jonathan. True, Jebbson was quite the gentleman when the two were earlier introduced, but Planetee's reply to him at the diner before leaving for the prisoner exchange must have held some truth, especially in the way of Jonathan's telling. So what was up with the two of them?

Gabrielle suddenly came into view, accompanied by some officers from Navy Command. She quickly made her way over to SarahCnidus who stood near a serving table. Sarah reached out, taking Gabrielle's hand, smiling sheepishly. Gabrielle drew Sarah close in a sensual embrace. Chasileah could see from their body language that Gabrielle was more than casually affectionate with Sarah. 'Strange,' she thought, knowing that Gabrielle's amorous displays toward most of Lowenah's children were pleasantly distant at best.

A sudden commotion drew Chasileah's attention to the Theater entrance. Everyone stopped what they were doing, focusing their attention on the new arrivals. Chasileah leaned forward, craning her neck to see. In the doorway stood three people, a tall giant of a man, and another fellow named 'Treston' as she recalled. Between them stood a woman of rather delicate stature who appeared somewhat unsteady on her feet. Squinting to get a better look, Chasileah finally recognized the woman to be the heroine of EremiaPikros, Sirion.

Those who were sitting stood while several others hurried from the dining hall, followed by applause and cheers as the people welcomed their courageous companion. Sirion grinned shyly, her stature shrinking in embarrassment. At length, the woman slowly waved a hand, quietly thanking everyone for such undue attention. Finally she took a seat on the far side of the room, her two bodyguards sitting down on either side of her.

A sick aching gradually grew in the pit of Chasileah's stomach as she watched the Theater fill. Here were the great leaders of the Empire - at least those who had survived down to this day, their names and actions burned into the minds and hearts of Lowenah's loyal children. Chasileah felt so small and unworthy. What was she doing here in the presence of these gods and sorcerers...she, a washed up officer, the Judas of Lagandow, selling out her people for a few fleeting nights wrapped in soft satin? How she loathed her very being.

Wiggling in an attempt to get up, she jolted Darla from a fitful sleep. Darla cried out, clutching her head in agony. Chasileah surrendered to the moment, settling down while stroking her companion's face. "I'm sorry, dear. Sorry..." she whispered, promising to be still. Too many she had betrayed in the past. Darla was her charge, by her own volition. For good or ill, she was fated to the hour. She would not abandon her little sister now.

Chasileah looked up in time to see Trisha and Jonathan enter from the dining room into the Theater. Jonathan pointed toward the shadows where she and Darla were. As the field marshal stepped in that direction, someone called out to her. Stopping up quickly, she spoke something to Jonathan who, nodding, hurried off toward Chasileah.

Squeezing through the milling crowd, Jonathan made his way into the shadows, sitting down beside Chasileah. Leaning close, he whispered so as not to disturb Darla, "Commander Trisha regrets the delay. She had attempted to contact you earlier, but was held up in a protracted meeting, and now must attend to other duties. She wanted me to assure you that it was not her intention to put you on the spot." He looked down at Darla. "If you wish to leave, I can help tending to our girl here."

"No, thank you." Chasileah refused his offer. She then reached over and took his hand. "Would you stay here and tend to me, please?"

Jonathan watched tears trickle down Chasileah's cheeks. He promised he would stay, squeezing her hand, "Should the world end this hour, what better place would there be than here?"

Chasileah leaned against Jonathan's arm, resting her head on his shoulder, and began to quietly cry, feeling the weight of the universe slowly lifting from off her. Today the Fates were revealing to her a different road, a possible rebirth, but into what? This room's magic was contagious. Long had it been since she walked these chambers, a maiden dressed in all her virgin finery, her world changing that day, delivering her into womanhood. Now she walked these halls again like that maiden child, wondering what tomorrow the Fates would deliver to her.

After Euroaquilo finished up with the business of the moment, he gradually made his way over, being waylaid several times by fellow naval officers and counselors seeking an audience, eventually taking a seat beside Darla. Gently rubbing the woman's back while she rested her head on Chasileah's lap, he explained to Chasileah and Jonathan, "I begged her to stay abed, but she would have none of it, even if it was to kill her."

Tenderly brushing her fingers through Darla's dark, luxuriant locks, Chasileah scanned the room and peered back down at the woman resting there. "Mother's up to something, making this day, this meeting special. Our girl knew it, could feel it." She looked up, pondering, "Lords and ladies, great and small, famous and unknown - never have I witnessed such a vast mixed company at a gathering such as this."

She turned her attention to Euroaquilo. "Never, in all my days since the Rebellion began, have I seen such an assemblage. There is little rhyme or reason to it. And the Cherubs? Long it has been since I've seen them gathered in such numbers...and serving us this day? No, something special is up. I dread and fear it, yet my heart burns for understanding, wishing to stay, while my feet cry out for flight."

Curious, Euroaquilo asked, "So these fellows are Cherubs? I didn't know what to think of them, maybe Ancients long departed and since returned to us, or possibly the sentinels who drive Mother's ships, but Cherubs? I believed the Cherubs to be the flames of fire burning upon the dessert plain at the prisoner exchange, yet you say these are the Cherubs, and you are an Ancient. Can you tell me more?"

Chasileah's eyes followed two of the Cherubs as they departed the room. They and some of the others with them she recognized, remembering them from days long, long ago. She then turned to Euroaquilo, answering in a hush, "Little more is there to say. They are Cherubs."

Lights were dimming in the dining hall, encouraging people to gather to the Theater, when a sudden commotion was heard at the main doorway. Drorli rushed in, pulling on Eurawha's hand, Zadar, breathless, following up close behind. As the three stood there, panting for breath, none appearing pleased, Zadar fumed, "Should have whomped her when I had the chance! Little brat! Miserable, troubling creature!"

He spied Symeon as they made their way to some seats, calling out to him, "Hanna's got her hands full with that one! A real pill! Stowed away in the boot, wanting to go see God, she did. Didn't know until we were miles away from the village. Had to take the screaming brattling back and tie her to a chair 'til we left again. Cursed us something fierce for us doing it, she did. Poor Hanna's got her hands full, I tell you!"

Drorli harrumphed, "Trouble that one is, and is going to be even more so. Punched me a good one when I dragged her from the boot. Threatened her with Treston's company if she didn't behave. The girl said she'd stick him if she got the chance. I hope Hanna can handle her."

Those privy to goings on with Ishtar began to chuckle. Good-natured, chiding comments regarding the men's bravery were bantered about while others made light of leaving poor Hanna to tend to their responsibilities. Zadar defended his valor only as Zadar could, filling the room with laughter from his verbal antics. Soon they found their seats, their grumbling stopped, the lights dimming and the room becoming quiet.

Now was come the hour everyone had anxiously anticipated. Doors of the Theater slowly closed while darkness enveloped the room, leaving a single beam of golden light cast down from the ceiling and spreading across the center floor of the Theater. Silence - all was silent, the crowd waiting with bated breath for what was to come next.

* * *

"Let me out! You let me out now or...!" Ishtar hammered on the bedroom door with her fists, screaming one insult after another. "All I wanted was to see God! Let me out now!"

Apollonius, just newly arrived to assist Hanna, leaned close to the door, calling back, "When you learn to behave, little lady, I might think to let you out. If you don't, then I'll be coming in and you won't like it."

There was sudden silence on the other side of the door. Ishtar had not realized Apollonius had arrived. She liked the man but feared him, always had. The man was good-natured but no nonsense. If he said something, he meant it. Long ago she had learned not to get on his bad side. Finally, after the girl had shed a sufficient amount of crocodile tears, there came a whining reply to Apollonius' rude threats, Ishtar complaining about the brutish ways she had been treated, he so ungentlemanly and improper. Then she went on about the injuries received when hauled from the machine and unceremoniously 'returned to this prison'.

Apollonius was bemused, the tone reflected in his reply. Ishtar swore in anger and flung herself on the bed, wailing in childish grief. At hearing this, Apollonius called through the door, "We could have let you run away and stay with those moon monkeys. It would have suited me fine."

Lifting her head from the pillow, Ishtar screamed, "Oh, shut up!"

Hanna called through the door, "I'm so sorry about your dress, dear. Drorli said that had you not resisted him so, you wouldn't have been dumped onto the stony roadway as you were. He also said that in your struggle to get away, you tore out of your clothes, becoming half-naked."

Ishtar screamed back, "He wanted to hurt me, him and that ruffian Zadar! They enjoyed beating on me!" She then cried, "I wasn't hurtin' nobody! Just wanted to look around a bit. You all said I was free, could go where I pleased. You got no right to keep me here against my will!"

When no one replied, she shouted, "What are you afraid of me findin' out, anyway? Who are you tryin' to protect me from? It ain't Treston, 'cause I already know about him. Who? I got a right to know."

Apollonius laughed, "We're not trying to protect you from anybody, couldn't if we wished. We're protecting these fine people from you!"

Ishtar's temper flared, "You just wait 'til my uncle hears about this. He'll defend my honor. I'm gonna tell Darla, too! She won't be pleased at all."

Becoming serious in his tone, Apollonius replied, "They should have found out about now, and I'm pretty sure neither will be pleased to hear about your rude and infantile behavior." Another scream rent the air, and then sounds of sobs coming from beyond the door.

Apollonius whispered to Hanna, "Let it go for now. She's not in any mood to listen. Merna's going to be here soon. Let's give it a rest. The child's going nowhere. Let her work it out of her system. Then she might listen a bit."

Hanna and Apollonius retired to the porch and sat down in some chairs, waiting for Merna to arrive. Hanna reached over, taking Apollonius' hand. "She's really a good child, a little spirited, but her heart's in the right place."

Apollonius' smile disappeared. "All that might be true, but it matters little at the moment. The child has to grow up and soon. There are forces that none of us can control that have gathered the Fates together for what will come in future days - days that will arrive whether we are ready or not. If Ishtar doesn't gain mastery over her emotions, disaster awaits this world. That girl has a destiny to fulfill, even if it should cost all of us everything."

"But she's so young," Hanna countered, attempting to defend Ishtar's actions.

"Young?" Apollonius asked, sarcastically. "Young? When you were that child's age, you were nursing a little one with another on the way. You got up before sun's light readying your family for the day, then labored long hours preparing meals and tending to your household's needs. I, for my part, worked on my father's fishing boat night after long, laborious night. I had been married, watched my wife die in labor, and saw my son pass away with a fever."

He shook a finger, warning, "Ishtar must grow up, and very soon! Her recent behavior has revealed a very serious flaw in the girl's personality. If she can't expunge it, then she must learn to control it or it will be our doom if she does not. Drorli confessed to me these very facts only just yesterday eve. He said there's nothing else for it."

Hanna did not like the way Ishtar was being rushed. "You and I had at least a little time to enjoy the world around us after arriving here. Why shouldn't the girl be given the same? Weren't we promised refreshment from our labors if we attained this world?"

Apollonius did not mince words. "No, my dear, that is not what we were promised! Our lives of sacrifice, our works, were to come with us into these Realms. Our gift was to be given the weapons needed to smash our enemy, our refreshment to see our enemy slain across the universe. We - you and I, and that child in there have been delivered here to finish what has already been started, to rid this world of its satanic host."

He pointed toward the doorway. "As for that child in there, it was told me by Drorli that Ishtar fulfilled some prophecy or other that Lowenah uttered long ago...well, long ago now for us at least, back on the day Ishtar was murdered in the arena. I was informed that Lowenah and Legion had a face-off somewhere in the Middle Realms, and that she said the child he murdered then would awake and bring him all sorts of trouble. Apparently Ishtar waked right during the prisoner exchange, and Sirion told Legion as much. From what I learned, that prisoner exchange was a trigger used to set this world ablaze, no more resting for anyone."

Looking past Hanna into the darkness of the room beyond, Apollonius sighed, resigned, "Drorli says that Ishtar has to grow up fast. That hour is already upon us... the reason for Lowenah's meeting today. My dearest Hanna, the ending hour has arrived and there is no turning it back. I've already signed on for Marine duty, been given an officer's commission." He looked out toward the road. "Will be leaving with tomorrow's sun for training school."

Hanna bolted upright in her chair, but before she could make reply, the sound of a motorcar coming down the road fell upon their ears. In only moments, the auto was parked at the curb and a smiling Merna, all dressed up in new Army attire, pranced up the walkway toward the couple. They both stood in surprise, watching their friend strutting her fancy new dress uniform.

"Well, what do we have here?" Apollonius exclaimed in wonder. "You went off and joined the Army or something?"

Merna stopped and snapped smartly to attention, grinning, "Signed up a week ago, but waited to tell anyone until I got my new duds. You two are the first to know. Gonna go and kill some demon scum! Yep, gonna get some revenge, I am." She hurried onto the porch and gave Hanna and Apollonius giant hugs.

After inviting Merna to sit, the three carried on with a little friendly banter, Apollonius finally asking, "So what made you choose the Army? You caught me by surprise on this one."

"Well," Merna began, "I've been assisting Eurawha and Drorli out here in the village for some months before Ishtar's arrival. Drorli is a master storyteller, and spun me some good yarns about a few of his adventures in the Army. I think that influenced me a bit."

She took a sip of some tea Hanna had poured for her. "The biggest thing, though, I believe, is that Alba received a letter of invite to join up with the Army. They've arranged for her to attend officer training school. I..."

Apollonius bolted upright in his chair. "Alba's leaving to be in the Army? Does James know about this yet?"

Merna said it was so. "Yes, just two days ago she told him. We had a little party to celebrate. He was just beaming the whole time, thinking about his lady becoming an officer and all."

Apollonius nodded approvingly. "They always were so close. I was so saddened back then. You remember hearing about it, don't you? Sure, you must have. Hanna would have told you about it back when the fever took Alba. It ruined James. Hey, did he say if he's going to join up?"

"Well, yes, but not with the Army," Merna explained. "Wanted to bunk aboard a ship, but not have to swab the deck, so he's accepted an invitation to join the Marines doing ship duty." She turned to Hanna, asking, "What about you? Have you made any plans yet?"

Hanna silently stared down at the floor in thought for some time, finally answering, "As you know, I've already been active in military affairs, at least from time to time, shipping aboard a bilander out of Stargaton doing border patrol for a few months. Although I was signed up for Navy, I was soon directed to temporary Marine duty." She blushed. "Made a good friend of the Marine officer in charge... Anyway, I got a letter from him a while back telling me he was promoted to captain of the guard over the Marines on the imperial frigate, Sharon, and asked me if I would be willing to sign on with him as his first leftenant." Hanna did not tell them she would also be his bunk mate. "A packet is pulling out from Palace City Spaceport the day after tomorrow that will deliver me to the Fourth Fleet. Sharon's what the Navy calls a 'ghost raider', sails alone on patrol most of the time. When it rendezvous with the main fleet to resupply, I'll hitch aboard."

Surprised, Apollonius raised an eyebrow, exclaiming in question, "So, when were you going to tell us? Send us a letter after you'd left? And Symeon, does he know yet?"

Hanna leaned forward, her hands clutching the chair arms, defending her silence. "I was going to tell you all tonight, after Symeon and Drorli were returned from the special meeting. No secrets. I just thought, knowing Symeon, that it was better for him if I waited until after today's meeting." She leaned back in the chair. "Besides, Symeon has already accepted King Mihai's offer to serve on her council. He's going off on some diplomatic errand to some place called... oh...'Tilgath City on Pilneser', leaving in just a few days."

She grumped, a jealous tone in her voice. "Didn't even ask me to go along... Had some cutie hanging on his arm - a 'Chuntay' somebody or other - who was going off to be his aide de camp. Claimed Army Command wanted to set up independent operations systems in strategic locations across the Empire. Said this Chuntay was an expert in such things. Well, anyway, I didn't get invited. So...so I chose to go my own way, and _poof!_ up and arrives this letter."

"What's gonna happen to our girl in there?" Apollonius pointed toward the doorway. "Seems she's being left alone."

Merna piped up, "Not everyone's leaving right away. I'll be here a while. And Drorli says he has an entire team staying to help Ishtar until she's off for military training, which will be soon if I understand what I heard."

Apollonius shrugged, bewildered, "Sounds like he's got little time before his team scatters across the Empire. What's he planning on doing with the girl, rebuilding her in one of those machines to become a nice, obedient child?"

Hanna punched Apollonius in the arm. "You stop it now!" she scolded. "Ishtar's been through a lot and is having a hard time adjusting."

Rubbing his arm, Apollonius replied sourly, "Well she's gonna have to adjust pretty fast! At this rate, Lowenah may send her back for someone easier to work with, maybe that governor."

Merna stood up and began pummeling Apollonius. "Be careful or they may be sending you back for repairs!"

Apollonius held his arm up, crying, "Sorry! Sorry! I forgot, thinking of the fellow when I knew him. A changed man he was! A changed man!"

Merna's face clouded. "He murdered my Hilen, and for that I cannot forgive him, at least not now. I saw him only as an evil old monster, see him so. Someday, should he return, as some of you believe, then...well, we'll see. When I hold my little girl in my arms again, then we'll see."

Apollonius sighed, slowly moving his head from side to side as he peered down at the porch floor. "We all did things that needed living down, some of us more so than others. I... well... it took me a while to grow up. Then there's Treston. He's treated us all like gold, and..." he looked at Merna, "how many times has he begged your forgiveness? And you've seemed to have accepted him."

Merna looked down, playing with her fingers. "I never really remembered him, so it was easier to forgive, plus I've had time to get to know him, see the kind of person he is." She scowled, "The governor I remember. He ordered the murder of my child... his command..."

For some time, the three sat in silence. Apollonius finally stood, suggesting they check on Ishtar. "It's been a while. Let's see how our girl's doing. If she's settled down a bit, we could offer to take her for a drive in that auto machine. There's a farm not far from here that Ishtar might like to visit."

The others agreed, and soon all had disappeared back through the doorway to check on their charge.

(Author's note: _Although Hanna's role in the King's War is of no little significance, she has become one of the lesser known figures of that tumultuous time. Early during the expansion of the Children's Empire at the beginning of the Fourth Age, Hanna departed with the Tarezabarian Fleet for the far reaches of the galaxy, eventually establishing a colony in a newly discovered star system._

When it came time for the Tarezabarians to move on in their ever-search for new and undiscovered star systems, Hanna and a few others remained behind, they and their descendants spreading out among the stars in that region. The distant mountain city of StolosisDistomissy, meaning 'The Twin Pillars', or 'Gateway to Beyond', named after the Second Realm's Pillars of Hercules, the passage point from the Great Sea into the open ocean beyond, the passage Hanna's grandfather often sailed in his adventures, became the farthest outpost on the edge of the Frontier. To this day, the city is considered the last bastion of civilization before one enters the uncharted skies of the galaxy's eastern quadrant.

The planet TerasTereo is home to the city of StolosisDistomissy. Its name means 'Wonderful Keep'. In time, that name came to encompass the entire Dodeka Star Cluster, having twelve stars and its four inhabitable star systems.

_StolosisDistomissy was made the capital city over the entire Dodeka Principality and Hanna was appointed its ArchonArchitriklinos (lit. 'Ruler over the sustenance of the house'). Her given name has long since gone out of common use, she being better known by her title of 'Queen PoimainoDeDistomissy', 'Shepherd over the Gateway', or 'Queen Poimaino, the Shepherd Queen'_.

CythereaNoah'ha included a lengthy account of Hanna's heroic history in her exhaustive writings regarding select women of the early ages. From her accounts, I have borrowed liberally to help provide in-depth information and to flesh out some of my own accounts concerning a few of these outstanding people. With Cytherea's generous permission, I include a small excerpt from her book about Hanna.

~ _Excerpted from CythereaNoah'ha's book:_ _Daughters of the Dragon Saints_ _, Chapter 7, 'Dragon Queens':_

" _...Hanna's grandfather was a traveling merchant. He had taken a wife from the people of the western lands. They were dark-skinned, seafaring traders. Stories had been told of their wanderings far beyond the Pillars of Hercules. Such a woman pleased her grandfather because of his own love for travel and the sea. Their children grew up feeling the heaving deck beneath their feet more often than solid ground. Hanna's golden-brown skin was a gift from her grandmother through her mother. Her thick, brunette locks, sparkling cyan eyes, long, sensuous eyelashes and rich, full brows came from her father. It was said that some of his ancestors were the infamous warriors who roamed the land before her people possessed it. The women of that race were, as legend had it, among the most beautiful creatures to ever walk the planet and also most to be feared, they taking up the axe and javelin in battle beside their men."_

"... _Hanna, though, chose not to remarry after the death of her husband. She had long before befriended Symeon and hoped that one day, after her youngest was grown and married, she would be able to convince her friend to make room in his life for her company. Circumstances never did allow this but when Symeon's feet journeyed to Ephesus, they would find their way to Hanna's door. Symeon was an aged man and Hanna not much younger when Ishtar died in the arena. Neither ever returned to Ephesus, nor did their paths cross again in that Realm."_

" _...Hanna went into the wilds of the North Country to reside with her late husband's relatives, living well into her nineties. Symeon journeyed on to fulfill his destiny, eventually suffering a martyr's death as was prophesied of him long before_.")

* * *

As if rising up in a ghostly mist in the middle of the lighted floor, Lowenah silently appeared in majestic resplendence. Before them stood not the petite woman clothed in dancing golden hair the children lovingly called 'Mother'. No! This day the crowd beheld the King of kings and Lord of lords as she cast her fiery gaze about the chambers. The chained glory of the immortal universe could be felt hiding behind her piercing eyes, burning with unbridled energy.

Upon Lowenah's head there rested a crown, but not of diamonds or gold, jade or chrysolite. Above her spun galaxies of fiery stars all ablaze in hues of blinding intensity, her garment the universe in all its radiance. The sun and all its planets spun about beneath her feet in perfect balance, with their harmonic pulses reverberating throughout the Theater. The heartbeat of the universe echoed off the walls and into the very being of every child gathered there - the heartbeat that drove all things both inanimate and living, the beat that bonded all matter together that made life possible.

Without a word, Lowenah searched the heart of everyone present. When her white-hot, burning orbs locked their focus upon a soul, that person could feel a roaring fire erupt within, racing through and into every fiber and nerve into the deepest reaches of sense and consciousness to the point of stripping away of mind and spirit, leaving the body an empty shell of naked honesty. Then her gaze would pass, leaving little more than a haunting memory of a fading storm as a restful calm settled all about.

There was something else that remained after Mother's searching stare passed, an aching knowledge that things were changing, had changed. Lowenah's hand was lifting up and she was quietly backing away. The children could feel a chasm growing between them and her. It was as if a message were being sent telling them that whatever was to come must be delivered by their own hands, that Fate was now a servant to do their will and she would abstain from interfering with wherever they might take Fate. They were now come the gods to decide the future. Alone, they would stand or fall.

Gradually the ceiling lights diminished until Lowenah's radiant energy alone burned within the Theater. Unlike the blaze of a flame or torch that casts its power outward, driving the darkness into the shadows, Lowenah drew to herself the darkness, allowing no light escape from her inner self. Blinding as day she was, with the magnificence of the universe spinning about her, yet oppressive as an empty void was the pitch blackness surrounding her.

Into this empty void, Lowenah opened her mouth to speak, but the voice of a Divine Being from beyond the edge of Time was what all those present heard. Faith need not exist to believe that the Maker of Worlds stood before them. God revealed was here, the God of gods with power unquestioned and glory unimagined, reaching out with word and thought, searching mind, heart and soul, cloaking the might of her immortal being behind a thin veil of fragile mortality. Here stood Mother, the Megas Creator, and Olothreutes, the Pontifex Maximus Apolluons, the Greatest Destroyer...the Absolute of all things.

From the depths of Lowenah's unfathomable worlds, words rose up, filling the room with an overwhelming resonance of Power Divine, eternally seared into all hearts and minds hearing them. "Do not think your feet have found my lair by chance this day, for from the founding of the world have you been chosen to stand before the forces of eternity to be judged for righteousness or evil! Those standing the judicial thrones have come to their conclusions."

Lowenah lowered her hands and stared toward the closed Theater doors. "To you has been given the gift or curse to dance with Fate. Today, each one of you will choose for yourself the road you shall take. One road leads you back to yesterday's dreams while offering you tomorrow's shadowy visions. With you will go my blessing and my peace will continue to guide your path."

Looking up, forlorn, she explained the second road. "The other offers you only but one choice, to sell your soul to the incorruptible Fates and become their slave in my house, never to have again the freedom to choose for yourself good or bad. It is a dangerous, foreboding path. Leading to what? That I even do not know... Oppressive it will be. Clear to the point of death, it shall demand your obedience, and you shall obey its commands without question!"

Clasping her hands together, Lowenah stared up toward the ceiling. "Long has this day pressed in upon my spirit, making my soul groan in despair. My children! My children, great is the valley of deep shadow and cruel it is to those passing through it! To force anyone to walk it would be the greatest of sins on my part, for only can a true heart toward me hope to succeed in this dismal place."

Sweeping her arms wide, she declared, "So it shall be! With free will, I do invite my children to take this most dangerous of roads. Should your heart be in a tumult over this request, I offer you...no, beg you to take your leave from here and along with you my blessing. There is no shame when an honest man speaks truth to his own soul."

At that, the double doors of the Theater opened into the blackness of the antechamber. A ghostly glow lit up in the floor, cloaking the identity of all while revealing the route of escape for any soul seeking it. With bated breath Lowenah waited, hoping a few brave souls might remain to weather the coming storm. No mother should expect of her children what she was asking this day, but what else was there for it? No child should ever be expected to accept. The room suddenly became as still as the tombs of yesterday's heroes and as chill as a bitter winter night.

Chasileah sat there, her heart burning with agony's hour while her stomach churned in sickly revulsion. Trapped! Trapped she was in a cage of raging beasts seeking to tear her soul asunder. The way of escape was opened, but chained she was by the needs of another. Away! She must get away!

Darla groaned, struggling to sit, breaking Chasileah's bonds. The woman could not see a thing, for a blind void filled the Theater to the point of extinguishing both breath and life. Free! So free! Darla was up and sitting beside her. She could now make escape from this horrid place.

Then it struck...a vision of past and future days. Was it only to Chasileah that all truth was revealed that hour or did each one of the children sequestered within those walls suffer such damnation? Chasileah did not know, nor did she care to discover whether it was so. The worlds of today, yesterday and tomorrow raged by in a tumultuous, chaotic rush, tearing away her senses, leaving only the cosmic dust of uncertainty except for the one remaining true reality, the opened doors offering freedom from Fate's evil burden.

Chasileah sat, transfixed, as the seemingly endless ages of her life flashed by in an instant of time, branding forever in her brain memory of its passing. Every detail of her life came to her so clearly could she see it all with intense feeling, from her beginning existence when two cells burst forth to create this new life, up to this very moment in time, not one breath, one second of it to be omitted. But upon the canvas of remembrance it was painted in vivid reality.

Ghost riders chasing the ever elusive shadow-herd of Time went charging past into Future's cloudy tempest, catching Chasileah up with them as they stormed by. Into that cauldron of twisted unknowns they rode, the woman watching in amazement her future world roads should she stay or should she depart.

The first road was such an easy one to take. Little there was to speak of other than to live the continued drudgery of life her heart had cast the woman into. In her ears she could hear reports of war from huge victories to massive defeats - the endless names of those she knew and loved being read off as their bodies were consigned to the Silent Tombs, and the endless messages she was to deliver to grieving lovers and companions. She found herself wandering that quiet, mundane road off into a shadowy uncertainty, the future a gray mist hiding Fate's destiny.

The second road was tempestuous and troublesome. Chasileah watched, seeing vows fulfilled. Blood filled her hands, running in rivulets from her fingers. The woman listened to her own mouth ordering myriads of her brothers and sisters to their deaths. Riding upon steeds sheathed in iron, wearing helms of gold with banners raised high and swords drawn for combat, she shouted the battle charge into flaming missiles of death and destruction.

By her very mouth, worlds went crashing into oblivion, armies vanished in smoke and ash, wails of grief rent the Heavens for the countless slain until the very seas turned red with the blood of holy martyrs and demonic beasts. All the while, this woman sitting astride her bloodied steed shouted out to the Heavens for the birds, the raven and the crow to gather and eat to their full, for the hour of destruction was not yet nigh.

This road, too, was uncertain, leading into a fathomless unknown of roiling mist, but it filled Chasileah's heart with the hope of vows fulfilled and dreams satisfied. As she watched, a man with deep hazel eyes and dark, wavy hair stepped out of those turbid clouds, taking her hand while singing the sweetest of healing songs to her heart. He smiled, tears running down his face, saying, "Never have I loved a woman as I have loved you. Already my heart is one with yours. Come and share your dreams with me and I, for my part, shall return your glory to you."

The vision of the two roads instantly disappeared, and Chasileah found herself standing before the two opened, leaved doors exiting the Theater. Two fiery Cherubs stood there, one on each side of the passageway, their smiling faces easing the woman's uncertainty.

Before her stood another Cherub, but this one was no stranger to her. Long had it been since she stared into this fellow's eyes as the two stood upon the high peaks overlooking the lush, green valleys of Lagandow, such a serene gaze coming from a gentle face. In the Cherub's hands were held an inkhorn and a scroll.

The Cherub lifted the inkhorn, asking, "Has my lady chosen for herself this day which road of uncertainty she will take? Before you goes my peace, whether you turn to the right or the left. Your Mother has promised you her love, no matter the journey you begin."

Chasileah smiled as a wave of freedom from care washed over her. Today? What was today other than an extension of yesterday and tomorrow, the momentary space in the continuous rotation of the universe that men chose to divide up into night and day, seasons, even hours and seconds? Today was not linear but circuitous, ever returning to where it began with only one's memories having changed. So, for tomorrow...it would soon become today and then yesterday and then quickly be forgotten, leaving but the memories remain, the memories such as she had of this fellow and those lost days so long ago on Lagandow.

For one last fleeting second, Chasileah looked longingly at the opened exit, thinking of the countless cares from freedom she would experience by taking it. She then turned to the Cherub with the inkhorn, bowing her head. "Your servant... Your slave..."

The Cherub grinned approvingly, declaring, "So it shall be." Upon the parchment, Chasileah's name, long forgotten, suddenly appeared.

In shock, Chasileah woke with a start, seated as she had been in the dark, quiet Theater. Her agony of heart was now gone, instead filled with a resigned acceptance that Fate was become her master and, live or die, she would follow its requests without question.

Lowenah slowly opened her eyes, having chosen not to witness what might become. She had hidden in her inner worlds, waiting the moment of return to see if any would risk the uncertainty she offered. Her heart leaped with joy and surprise to see that not even one of the children drawn to this place in this hour had departed. Honesty and love had again won! She had held out no false hope, nor had secreted the evil future that awaited her children, yet here they remained, choosing this uncertainty.

Today all doubt had been removed, for not for reward or for glory did Lowenah's loyal children serve her. By free will they had chosen to become slaves clear unto death. So true had become the statement for Mother's creation: 'Every person decides his own destiny.'

The golden glow of hidden lights gradually gained in power, revealing the resolute, determined look on each face as countless eyes stared at the person standing before them. No longer did they see the King of kings and Lord of lords robed in the glory of the universe. Before them now stood their golden-haired sprite of a mother-maiden, hands clasped and head bowed, tears streaming down her face.

She looked up, casting her tear-filled gaze about the crowd. In a halting voice, she addressed her children. "You have offered your souls to me for whatever purpose that may be chosen for them. For this, I am forever indebted to you. Now, please, stand and swear aloud to me what your hearts have already shouted out in the darkness, this being done so that all here may know by your public declaration what you have promised to me in secret."

Darla groaned in pain as she took Chasileah's hand while clutching Euroaquilo's arm. Euroaquilo reassured the woman she need not get up. Darla cursed him, ordering the man to assist her. Managing to stand, Darla shook in agony while sweat poured down her face. Euroaquilo and Chasileah wrapped their arms about the woman, supporting her.

Lowenah looked over at her little child, so desperately attempting to be at station like the good soldier she was. Tears burst forth anew with joy and pride, watching this heroine so filled with resolve and fortitude. She looked all about, recalling the deeds of so many of the children here. Yes, she had chosen well. Deep was the fire that burned within the breasts of these people. How would she fail with these loyal men and women? In her mind, she could already see the Great Dragon fleeing from these Realms.

Then came the pronouncement. "Now swear in the ears of all standing with you this day an oath for them to hear so that a shoulder they will always have to lean upon in darkest hours when hope is only a fading memory and faith little more than a wistful vision in a forlorn mind."

She lifted a hand. "Swear to the living and the dead this oath: _To hold the soul of your brother and sister precious, to drive the evil from this universe, to be trustworthy and loyal at any and all cost to your soul and spirit, to support my daughter-king, Michael, and those who drive their swords into her enemies' hearts, to become whatever you must become to win success against the ungodly evil even though you should be forced to sink to the very level of such ungodliness, to deliver ruination and destruction necessary upon every and all living things because it is the right thing to do, to never surrender to will of self when protecting the weak and helpless, to sacrifice all that is, was, and might have been yours for that of another, to be a trustworthy agent of your fellow's heart._ All these things swear to do clear into an everlasting death, should that be requested of you."

Now lifting both arms high, Lowenah declared, "Strength beyond normal and a guiding spirit of light are the gifts I give to all you who swear to me this oath! Yet a terrible burden it is, far too great an evil for any child of mine to carry. So it is, if with honest appraisal any of you should feel it a burden beyond your strength then please, with my blessing, depart and save yourselves from this calamity that I request."

Again, the two leaved doors silently opened, offering Chasileah escape. This time she felt so different. No visions came that might swage doubt or fear, no Cherubs with inkhorns or requests, just an inviting peacefulness promising the same uncertain future afforded all Lowenah's children. This time the woman's feet fought not with mind and heart, but stood firm in harmony with spirit and soul. No, this time there was no trepidation with choices made. She was certain that the road chosen was the road she desired...no, craved.

Again, no one accepted its Siren's path. Lowenah beamed with pride. What mettle did these children possess? What inner strength of will and might beat in their hearts? No whispering voice chanted sweet refrains of future promised. No mystic's call induced the children's choice. Here, in the darkness, self-will proved to be greater than all the magic of the immortal Heavens. Here in this room came the deafening roar of loyal children to counter the charge of the chief evil agent who declared that no one served Lowenah for other than selfish reasons.

Again, the doors slowly closed and the lights came up. Lowenah waited until her heart released her voice to speak, choking out, "How do you say, then?"

The room was silent. Like a flooded dam about to burst, the forces straining to be released were waiting upon the one drop of water that would fracture that silence and cause the flood.

"To victory or a quick death!" someone shouted out with boldness.

All eyes were cast in the direction of that shout. Surprised, Chasileah found that everyone was staring at her. Had she really made that proclamation? Her mind had thought it and her heart had supported it, but did her mouth declare it? Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, as if from a single voice came the uproarious cry, "To victory or a quick death!" The floodgates were broken, and everyone wept.

After giving pause, Lowenah lifted her hand and called out in a tongue both beautiful and profound words never spoken on the mortal breeze, filling the ears of all with wonder. Then came a sudden rushing upon that same breeze, static flames of fire darting all about until settling down above the head of each person there.

"Ko'rak To'uah!" Lowenah called out while lowering her hand.

A sound like that of an eagle's cry resonated throughout the chambers as the flames made reply to the command given. With that, each flame gradually settled down upon the head of the person it was above, slowly sinking and disappearing into them. For a little while, an inner strength enveloped each child. Darla was able to cast her sickness aside and stand unaided, her headache slipping away into hiding.

When the excited commotion of those events eventually quieted, Lowenah explained their significance. "To each of you has been given a Cherub of spirit and glory so that power beyond what is normal may become your gift. Yet not for strength of mind or power of might are these Cherubs given. Let me warn you, not for your protection or increased wisdom were these tools created, but to assist you with fending off any weapon your enemy sends against you that may destroy both your mind and heart. I do this so that for each and every one of you there shall be a multitude of counselors for you to place all your trust in."

She wagged a finger, revealing, "Sealed you are. No treacherous act or lying deceitfulness shall the least of you be able to commit. Look about this room and see your trustworthy and loyal comrades at arms. Their blankets you can share with freedom from care, their lips speaking only truth in your ears. This is the gift of Po-San-Touah I give to you, the gift of unwavering loyalty.

Lowenah then further exhorted, "Please gather to your bosom these loyal brothers and sisters of yours. Give your trust, your heart, soul and mind to them. Traitors still walk the darkened halls of your worlds. Yes, like the scorpion hidden in the bed sheets, they wait upon a moment of ease to strike! And strike they will! Taken not from you has been your will to speak and act freely. A careless word may still rain destruction down upon all my children."

She swept her hand about the room. "Remember, please, be wary! Here are your trusted companions. Confide in them your deepest secrets. The rest...well, the loyal will understand. Others will remain uninformed." Lowenah glanced at Mihai. "So, do be careful, very careful with whom you dream."

Lowenah's face saddened, her eyes filling with tears as she confessed, "I have failed you, all of you. For you see, I built a universe in my foolishness, ignoring Whispering Voices warning me of a possible rebellion that true freedom might bring. No! No, indeed, the voices shouted out to me that in the construction of the very building blocks of your worlds...what you call 'Cherubs Stones'...my design had a flaw, threatening their existence should discord enter within."

She lowered her head, folding her hands in regret. "I did not listen, wishing instead to believe that such evil would never arise, this despite the fact that the very mathematics found in the laws of freedom promised such a future. So I did not fix the fault, ignoring the mathematical certainty given endless time, the damning factor in my precious equation, for time assured that evil discord would eventually arise. And so I dreamt, breathing in the sweet opiate while hiding in my wonderful fantasy universe, refusing to see the growing darkness gathering on the horizon.

"Now the storm has struck, leaving ruin in its wake, and I am forced by the very laws coming from my mouth to make my children save for me this universe until again a Great Juncture arrives when all things can be made new. Upon you, because of my foolishness, falls responsibility to hold the line until that day. You must bleed for me to heal, you must suffer for me to become well, and you must die for me to see my life fulfilled. I am sorry, so very, very sorry..."

Covering her face with shaking hands, Lowenah began to weep like a mother bereft of her unborn child. In her mind's eye, she watched the judgment court fill with the Watchers over her universe, pointing accusing fingers while howling out their condemnation. "Failed you have, wicked bird, wicked bird, mother of the jackals' lair, queen over the serpents' pit! How dare you act ever so righteous when the blood of all the living and the dead are crying out a proclamation against you? The playground you created to satisfy a prurient heart, built upon a charnel house of lies and self-deceit. For your ingratiating indulgences, you impatiently constructed upon the shifting sands a world that may soon dissolve into nothingness."

A dark, hooded figure arose from the throng, pointing a bony finger, its black breath roiling with putrefying stench. "Our counsel you rejected, feeling us the fools so much to be pitied. 'No souls have you!' you cried in disdain as we beseeched you to give pause and wait upon a moment, to mend what was not yet torn asunder. But, no, your wisdom of a restless heart shouted out denunciations against us, calling us weak in understanding and feeble of thought."

Turning toward the great host seated in the courtroom, the figure swept its arm wide. "Did she not see wickedness afar off? Did we not repeatedly, with immortal outcries, ask her to display her own wisdom? And now what does this evilest of raven mothers do but slaughter her own children to make recompense for her vile improprieties! Rhiannon! Rhiannon, eat, please, the flesh of another of your precious children! No, no, not but one! Feast upon a hundred, a thousand, a thousand thousand! Show them just how valueless they stand in your eyes. Gorge yourself upon their fleshy parts until your belly becomes satisfied with their rotting corpses!"

It spun about, shaking its finger in Lowenah's face. "Oh for love, for passion...for the touch! Oh for the donkey cock! You surrendered up all that was good so that for but an instant you could feel. Yes, feel...feel like a woman wrapped in the arms of someone you loved, surrendering your immortal being to experience the touch of another on the outside of yourself! Were your lovers from long ago insufficient to satisfy your lusting emotions? Oh, pity the heart, for only a fool can wield it as recklessly as you have yours!"

Sitting, the accuser folded its arms in smug satisfaction. The courtroom became silent. Was there anyone willing to speak in Lowenah's defense, or did she stand guilty as she had been charged?

When all appeared lost, the jury about to cast their verdict, the doors of the courtroom creaked open, a little boy squeezing his way through. Timidly approaching until stopping in front of Lowenah, the boy lifted his hands to reveal secrets within. Beaming from ear to ear, he cried out with joy, "Mother! Mother, look and see what I have discovered!"

Opening his hands, he declared, "A bird flying so high in the crystal blue sky lost this feather to give me a quill to write my tale with. And look, the tree has surrendered up a giant leaf for me to write my tale upon. Now see what I have learned from the bird and from the tree. The bird gives to me this fine gift, not knowing it will grow another feather, yet gives it freely anyway. The tree provides me the paper, caring not whether it shall produce another leaf. Like you, they give the best they have without consideration for self or future cost."

He wrapped his arms about Lowenah. "Mother, with labor pains you birthed me, and in sleepless nights you nursed me. By day, your hand has guided me and by night your passionate love has lighted my path. Does a moth that lives but a day regret that it has lived at all? Look! Whether it is but a day or a year, or a million tomorrows, it is from you that all life has come, a feather and leaf beyond measure. And if it can be enjoyed for but a day or a year, what of it, for without you it would not have been at all. You have blessed us with life, with life!"

The courtroom suddenly vanished, Lowenah feeling someone tugging on her arm. Opening her eyes, she stared in Sirion's beaming face, the girl's eyes filled with tears. Through quivering lips, she cooed, "Mother, please... please don't weep so with sadness. An innocent heart has nothing to prove. To us, you have given your very life and breath. Spent, you have, your energy to form us in your likeness so that we might become one with you."

Lowenah looked out to see a throng of faces nodding in agreement. Then, as though with one voice, the children broke out in songs of praise for their mother. Lowenah's tears burst forth anew, this time with those of joy. Long into that hour she wept, her children continuously wrapping her in their melodious arms of endearments.

A warrior later turned poet, observing the events of that day, penned these words here translated...

" _Should a man live twice, what value is his soul_

If he listens not to the heart within?

Though all things be lawful, few things are right,

If the heart hasn't warred 'gainst the darkness of night.

Our mother did weep, her heart broken through

As she asked of her children to carry the day,

To march into battle, to kill by the sword,

To surrender no mercy and offer no stay.

' _How say you, my darlings? Will you listen to me?'_

So cried our mother while her heart broke in two.

And we stood there in silence then gave single reply,

' _To the field of honor whether we should live or should die!'_

To our mother, Rhiannon, our voices we raised.

' _You give to us the glory by freeing our hearts.'_

She heralded us warning of the price to be paid,

And we laughed at the terror, the carnage, the rage.

' _We are the 'stone of Rhiannon', our faces harder than flint._

Cast us into the sea and watch the tumult we rent!'

Our mother did pitch us into the oceans below,

And the seas riled up to the stars and the moon.

Finally the blood settled down on the rivers and tides.

Then hope in death smiled on victor and slain,

And the seas ceased their fury, forever in peace to reside,

While our mother's heart healed from loyal love she beheld."

In the end, when her tears had ceased and the children were returned to their seats, Lowenah declared, "Who are my children? You are my children. Any who oppose you are no longer my children, but abominations of breathing flesh! Their blood rests upon their own heads, and their possible salvation not of my concern. They...any who oppose you...are no longer children of mine!"

At that, Lowenah excused herself, suggesting they all take a short break before continuing.

Lowenah allowed adequate time for everyone choosing to refresh themselves, and to gather up some foodstuffs and tasty beverages before calling them back to assembly. Dried were the tears of joy she had shed witnessing the unchained love and devotion of her children, leaving heart and soul filled to overflowing with motherly pride. Still beaming in the afterglow of earlier events, Lowenah must now change times and seasons, readjust the very culture for so long deeply ingrained in her children of war, to take from the new king her power while retaining her majesty and glory.

When all was quiet, Lowenah lifted her hands, pointing toward Mihai and calling out, "Michael Morning Star rules these heavens with majesty and glory. I have placed in her hands for all time the kingdoms above and the kingdoms below, the kingdoms that have passed and the ones yet to come. To my child does all praise for a virgin queen go, and forever and ever shall her light radiate forth upon all men and nations."

Everyone stood, shouting joyful support while filling the chambers with deafening applause. Lowenah smiled. This was what she hoped for. When the room became quiet, she went on. "To my kingly daughter, Michael, all knees shall bend. Wherever the sole of a foot should trod, now or in long future days, all such kingly recognition belongs to this child of mine." Again there was thunderous applause.

Lowenah clasped her hands behind her, slowly rocking back and forth on her heels. "My child's kingdom is new in so many ways, and to no other person shall her rulership be given. It is a holy and pure kingship, her own sacrificial blood cleansing it so long ago. Like the son of her adoptive forefather who built a holy temple to me with cleansed hands, the hands of my royal king-priest shall, with cleanliness, keep the throne of her kingdom."

A curious silence filled the room, the thought weighing upon everyone's minds at how such a thing could be done if war loomed on the horizon. How could their new king remain free of bloodstains of the upcoming cataclysm that in vision they earlier observed? Lowenah did not keep them waiting.

"At one time I journeyed into the Worlds Below, spreading my spirit over a woman of simple means so that the son she bore became divinely handsome and comely in appearance. This son I peered out at through a burning tree, my heart aflame over his beauty. So it was that I sent my comely child away to change times and seasons, stretching his hands wide across the waters, parting seas to set my servants free. But it was by Aaron's mouth and rod that I delivered devastation upon my child's enemies.

"So much did I love this child that, upon my own daughter, Michael, I bestowed the name 'Greater Moses'. This darling child of mine will also change times and seasons by spreading her arms wide in coming days and clutching hold of the throat of the Evil Worm, thus bringing all his works to nothing. Yet as with the former, so it is with the latter. The 'Greater Aaron' shall wield the rod of destruction in coming days, your king's mouth being silent except for declaring when those days shall begin."

She waved a hand about in gesture. "It was Aaron's rod that ate the enemy's serpents, turned the waters to blood, that brought Pharaoh's house down to the dust, and it was Aaron's rod that budded, proving that my spirit was on him. You..." she swept her arms wide, "you are the rod of Aaron, the budded fruitage of my belly. My spirit is with you, proof that my spirit is upon my Greater Aaron!"

The room remained quiet. This was not a riddle Mother was weaving, but something far more profound. Never had she referred to her children as 'weapons of destruction', obedient tools to be wielded at the discretion of another. It is the chill wind that is often the harbinger of a violent maelstrom approaching. That chill swept up the backs of many a veteran pondering the meaning of those words.

Lowenah rested hands on hips as she bowed her head and began to slowly pace. "My Aaron is not a person, an individual, like my darling Michael. Aaron is become the power and might of this holy nation that will drive from these Realms our wicked foe. It is to this power and might...those who stand the bridge directing it... that all of you must bow in obedience without question or revolt. Not to my chosen king, but to this power will you, my weapons of destruction, be given, for that power to do with you as it chooses, for you to do its bidding without question."

She stopped, looking toward the ceiling. "In those hands will the fortunes of war be weighed. These agents I have personally forged to do my bidding. Only to me are they called to account, they declaring no other man their king, god, or master. They invent the destiny of nations, of worlds. No laws bind them, no ruler commands them, and no council holds them accountable. Indeed, the day of the councils is finished!"

There was an audible gasp from the crowd. The time of the councils was ancient, existing before the end of the First Age. The councils had defined the life and customs of Lowenah's children down to this very day. Why, even Asotos claimed to hold the councils sacred, professing to follow their direction in his decision making - a lie, of course. With no councils, there would be no negotiators to sue for peace, other than... No, their new king would be powerless to stop the warring once it began. So it would fall upon the other powers...Aaron...to decide the fate of all.

Lowenah clenched her fists, leaning toward the crowd. "So it is to my Aaron that all knees should bend in regards to war. To follow them is to follow me! Do not question what they command or look with disgust at what they may demand of you. Remember this: in your obedience to their orders, should you even strike down one innocent and pure in heart and thought, even a favored child of mine, from you there will not be held an accounting, for you are but a willing tool in Aaron's hands."

She lowered her head, hands clasped in relaxed pose. "It has not been without counsel that I have come to these decisions. True, the day of the law councils has passed, but always will a multitude of counselors be appropriate, for many are the beams of light a spectrum reveals, bringing clarity to a colorless world. So now, please, allow me voice to explain so that I may reveal to you secrets, so that Aaron you will understand."

Lowenah stared into the shadows as if searching for someone. "No longer do we find a pontifex maximus, one sole agent who rules over our military force. My daughter-king stands as the only one in my kingdom, and that in her glory and majesty. The power of the military will be...is too great for but one to any longer command it, so into several branches has it been split. The central branch is that of the Army. There you will find the field marshal. The Army is the core...the trunk, so to speak...thus all other branches are born to lend support, first, to it. This field marshal shall wield the greatest authority when decisions are made regarding coming warfare, yet may be overruled if the will of the others is greater.

"I have already chosen this field marshal. You witnessed her ferocity at the prisoner exchange. Trust me on this... Searched the hearts of all my children living and dead I have, and no greater candidate did I find other than this woman to lead my children through the coming darkness." She extended a hand of invitation. "My daughter, ElaiaKallos - better known to you as 'Trisha QaShaibJal' - please come here and stand by my side."

Trisha slowly stood and made her way over to Lowenah. Turning to the crowd in recognition, one could not help but see tears running down the woman's face. She had been called 'daughter' by the Maker of Worlds, her precious childhood name announced to all present!

Lowenah continued, "Your admiral of the fleet is none other than our most deserving leader, Gabrielle. 'Daughter of the Jade', and 'Child of the Mist', my most precious of children returned to us from the shadow-darkness when this Rebellion was young, her sword not resting through this long and tiring contest." Gabrielle joined Lowenah and Trisha under the lights in the middle of the room.

There was more. "The role of our new Army is to hammer our enemy into destruction, driving him from our worlds. It must then be allowed to concentrate itself in a fist wherever the need for such power is demonstrated. For this reason, changes within certain branches of the military were deemed necessary. So it is with the Marines. As is currently the responsibility of this department, the Marines will continue to support the soldiering of the Navy's ships and garrisoning of distant outposts. Some squadrons of Marine sky fighters will continue to fight alongside Navy and Army commands.

"It has been decided that all Marine officers having captain's rank or higher must also be qualified naval officers, their various ranks being somewhat equal to their Navy brethren. I need not bore you with any details. They will be forthcoming directly. The Marines will also be responsible for our lightning campaigns, where quick mobility and rapid response are required. Clandestine activities will often be placed in their hands."

She pointed toward someone hidden in the crowd. "The one known as the 'Wandering Warrior', the 'Scalp Hunter', Planetee has offered her services to be the Marines' commodore general."

Planetee wiggled from her seat, squeezing Jebbson's hand as she stood. As she made her way forward, Jonathan stared in disbelief. Surely this was the same woman who sat with them but the other night, repudiating her own sanity while recommending the bottle's cure. He marveled aloud at this woman's tenacity and inner resolve. "Into the fire..." he murmured as she approached the others.

Lowenah went on to explain, "The Marines will act co-dependently with the Navy, its commodore general accountable to the admiral of the fleet. As I have said, its primary mission is to protect the fleet and its many outposts, but will also, when possible, become the point of the spear when forcing new attacks on the enemy."

Lowenah now revealed an entirely new aspect of the military. "Clandestine activities are not new to you, but up 'til this day have been inventions of the moment, when deemed necessary, and orchestrated by local command. We also have oft depended on any friendly Wildcatters to act as commerce raiders, carrying on our deep space warring while our navies sallied forth in mighty fleets to confront the enemy. Well, all that is about to change! After studying the recent history in the Lower Realms, and hearing persuasive dissertations by a certain Richard Finhardt, it has been concluded that a new branch of military must be instituted to meet upcoming needs."

She pointed into the shadows again. "Allow me please, to introduce you to the commander over our Special Forces, daughter of the Beowulf, Centurion General Sarah Cnidus."

The room was silent, no one moved. Soon people were looking about to see who this new centurion general was. A few had heard Sarah's name whispered, and a few others had assumed the person to be an Off-worlder, but only a small handful knew her. Slowly and silently, as if rising up from the depths of death itself, Sarah stood, pausing to readjust her uniform, and then quietly made her way over to Lowenah.

Lowenah beamed with the pride of a new mother. She hugged Sarah, and then made the woman stoop to receive a tender kiss on her lips. Still holding Sarah's hand, Lowenah explained, "Long have I worked with this child. She is the 'serpent hiding under the rocks', the 'assassin who puts hemlock in the wine', and the 'thief who searches for treasure in secreted places'. Long have you heard whispers of her intrigues, but today you come face to face with the one you have called 'Gravemaker'."

There was an audible gasp followed by deathly silence as the stunned crowd stared in amazement at this god revealed. Rumor had long sounded the exploits of this person, but few believed them really true or to be the work of but one, yet Mother was declaring it to be so with proof.

Sarah did little more than bow her head when introduced. Trisha reached out and squeezed her hand, smiling as she looked up into the woman's face.

Lowenah grinned, "This child of the Beowulf will reach out beyond your frontiers, deep into enemy territory to bring war to them. Their trade routes will burn bright with the wreckage of flaming transports while their outposts will be laid waste, forcing the enemy to expend vast amounts of resources protecting its home front.

"Although Special Forces is independent of the other military branches, it remains part of it and will act in accordance with the needs of it. General Richard Finhardt" she motioned for the man to stand, "and his team will work with Army and Navy Intelligence to forge Special Forces into an effective fighting machine. Often you will find Special Forces entrenched with the other military branches when need dictates."

(Author's note _: In time, Special Forces under the leadership of Sarah Cnidus became known as 'the Beowulf', yet this was not 'the Beowulf' Lowenah spoke of_.)

While the others remained standing with her, Lowenah went on. "This is not to say that the Children's Empire fights the upcoming war alone. No, Indeed! Thanks to the tireless efforts of certain negotiators, we have acquired the allegiance of several independent colonies - the major Wildcatter Guilds, and even the Witches of KordianHasur, Ancients who have sworn eternal vengeance upon Legion and his hordes!"

Many in the crowd were amazed. True, reports from the prisoner exchange whispered rumors regarding the Witches of KordianHasur, and since many Wildcatters considered themselves allies of the Children's Empire, that came as little surprise. But to hear they had offered their allegiance? Well, that was something to celebrate!

Lowenah did not give them time, though. "As you know, the Stasis Pirates have been a constant threat to our eastern colonies. They harry our citizens and attack our shipping, ever waiting with a hungry eye to devour the innocent with their corvettes and luggers, gifts of our Enemy Worm. Well, this will no longer be tolerated! See, now has come the gathering of the cave wasps who will search out the spiders of the Trizentine to bring them to a finish."

The room went silent in anticipation. Lowenah excitedly exclaimed, "Behold, the Cave Wasps! From the distant ranges of Tarezabar Jeiriea, the Ring-of-Fire, the Crimson Fleet - the angels of Mareemah - have come to join us!"

Two men and a woman stood. As they made their way forward, Lowenah called out, "My wild children, so long ago forgotten, have returned to us in this late hour of need to offer up their souls in our behalf. Welcome, please, the admirals of the Crimson Fleet who join us on our flanks!"

Dressed only in long capes, sandals and morion-shaped helms, the three admirals gathered themselves to the others standing around Lowenah. Treston leaned over, whispering in Sirion's ear, "If I didn't know better, I'd say that Apollonius was one of them..." They both laughed quietly.

Ancient these children were, among the oldest of those born to Lowenah. Even Chasileah could little recall these people. Scant at best were the stories of these sojourners, their tales often told as little more than bedtime stories if ever told at all. Yet here they were, returned from their self-imposed exile, a people innocent as regards this Rebellion, to support their Mother in her desperate hour. Standing before them, representing all the Tarezabarian people were Admirals TaqaEsem, Zabinea Tizkertina, and UtechPhorsumai, all come at this critical juncture.

(Author's note: _During one of my visits upon a certain ChasileahUUnooNiemie, a person to whom I'm greatly indebted in her assisting me with these Chronicles, we chanced upon a discussion of these people called the 'Tarezabarians'. She confessed she was born into their world shortly after their departure, and grew up far too busy chasing the handsome bucks across fields of lilies to bother learning the stories told about such a mysterious people. But she did add some insight into the world of that time._

' _Those days were filled with the excitement of exploration and adventure. Only did our universe exist for us then, there being no knowledge of any other realms and, for us, the universe was only this galaxy. Oh yes, we well knew of so many other galaxies, but had no knowledge of how to explore them, if it was even possible. At the time of the Tarezabarians, little we really knew about our quadrant of space, not yet even aware of jump portals. Oh yes, a few star systems had been mapped and there were a few distant colonies but, for the most part, life still revolved around EdenEsonbar._

' _So it came to be - at least as told me by aged companions as we sat about the firelight on moonless nights - a large number of restless children gathered themselves together on the shores of a huge lake east of the Obeb Mountains, on the plains of Oros below a great tower claimed to have been built by the Ones Who Came Before. There they toiled for centuries, building a huge fleet of ships to sail the skies into the unknown._

' _When the day of departure arrived, they gathered themselves together along with a great crowd of well-wishers, casting off after many long days of festive celebration. Along with them went the seeds of life - every form of plant and animal they could possibly pack aboard their giant ships \- though I imagine them to be quite small in comparison to ships we have today. Naught did we ever hear from them again until the day of the council when Mother revealed they were returned to give us their support.'_

_I would like to add this one final note: Few of you born during this Age of Peace have heard of these strange and wonderful people. Restless they are, ever wandering the universe to find or in search of...it is uncertain what they search for, perhaps it be knowledge of the unknown itself. When the Fourth Age finally arrived and their lost kindred returned to them from the Field of the Minds, these people again departed, this time into the Immortal Lands to continue their searching ways. May they one day find what their hearts so deeply long for_...)

After everyone had returned to their seats, Lowenah pointed to the coming hour. "Little more do I have to say, the remainder of this day belonging to others. Allow me then to conclude with these words of counsel. My children, my darling children, I fear not your lack of loyalty toward me. No, no, indeed! It is just the opposite that I dread for in this upcoming hour of distress it may well betray you, your hearts breaking over the destruction done to my wonderful things. No, you must not fight this upcoming war for me or for what you believe will please me. An evil, tempestuous storm is sweeping in upon us, a storm that will test heart, mind and spirit to the limit! Love for me...my heart...will not see you through this time..."

She looked into bewildered faces. "Oh yes, love again will save us, will give us the strength to endure every privation and sacrifice we must endure, but it must be through a love greater than one for me. Love through right, because it is the right thing to do... Yes, love for right is what will give you the power and strength to carry out what I am requesting of you this day. Though the rivers and seas may turn red with the blood of the innocent and guilty, your love for righteousness will preserve your resolve to see things through to the end.

"So, my children, learn from the mother eagle. To help her children grow, she must push them from the nest. On their own wings, by their own might do they learn to fly, do they learn to become the hunters of the skies. So you...today I cast you from my nest. Some may fall, others may falter for a little while, but all of you will grow, must grow. The universe now belongs to you. Its future rests in your hands, the battle to win or lose yours to decide."

Lowenah bowed graciously, her children standing in respectful honor. Sighing, satisfied, she stepped into the shadows as announcement was made that dinner was soon to be served, inviting all to gather in the dining hall. The remainder of the day belonged to the children, to strategize and make plans. Oh yes, Lowenah had a few other items she wished to discuss, but not to take away from the children's hour. A nap, yes a nap was what she desired, slipping away behind secreted doors to take a much deserved doze.

While Cherub waiters hurried about the crowded dining hall with trays of culinary delights and refilling empty glasses and cups, Zadar quietly sauntered over to Gabrielle's table, sideling up close beside her. Bending low, he whispered, "My lord prince, may I have a moment of your time? It's important."

At first, Gabrielle wanted to make flirtatious jest of Zadar's intrusion, but then thought better of it hearing the serious tone in his voice. "Just a moment..." she mumbled, gulping down her mouthful of food before getting up.

After squirreling themselves away in a quiet corner, Zadar began in earnest, his face somber, "My Lord Gabrielle, I am well aware of the seriousness of the day, and rather should I stand in the field with a wild bull than to intrude here, but I have urgent news that has been bought for us at great cost! Even now, Darla sits alone in the Theater, unable to tolerate the smell of food."

Gabrielle replied approvingly, "I have a little time. Would you like to find a more private place to talk?"

Zadar shook his head. "No, that will not do at all! It is counsel of the many I seek, partly for a warning and also to offer a solution. Look, our sister nearly died delivering up to me the secrets of our brother's madness. I must be allowed to inform the others."

Gabrielle took Zadar's hand, recommending, "Why don't you and I find Mother and then we can confer together. If she thinks it is good, then we may be able to make time for it today."

Zadar frowned, disagreeing, "Mother should know, does know a bit and said to speak with you. Please, this is not something that is trivial! I will not take a great deal of time."

It did not set well with Gabrielle to change the agenda of the program on such short notice. And why the urgency? Resting her hands on Zadar's shoulders, she sighed, tired, "I don't know why you do these things to me. I make no promises. If the mood is right, I will give you your moment to speak. If not, then you and I shall have that discussion with Mother afterwards."

Beaming from ear to ear with relief, Zadar hugged Gabrielle, planting a suggestive kiss on her lips.

Gabrielle stepped back, surprised, sputtering in mock disgust, "I have no time for your rutting nor wish to have my mind clouded with offers of your romance. You think of only one thing, always have. Now be off before I change my mind about allowing you to speak!"

Zadar peered into Gabrielle's smoky-gray eyes with yearning, smiling, "Such a pity... Another time..." Away he hurried.

Gabrielle followed the man with her eyes. She longed for his touch, such an honest lover. A day in his arms could make one forget the evil lurking in this world. A week...a week? For now, she could only dream of the possibilities. Maybe someday, again...hopefully, soon.

The meeting lasted far into the evening, with the commanding officers detailing large portions of upcoming battle plans and how the new military arrangement was to work. Mihai did little more than introduce the proceedings, publicly praising each of the leading military officers. After a brief description of how their new king would work with Command, the organizational structure integrating supply and manufacturing with the needs of the various military branches and her expectations for success when war finally came to them, Mihai politely bowed and stepped from center stage.

Gabrielle and Planetee came forward. By the use of charts and three-dimensional maps, they explained the new structure of Navy and Marines and the roles they would play in the future. On the maps, Gabrielle pointed out the major and significant jump portals that needed protection. Among the fifty-one known jump portals in the Children's Empire, she described the sixteen primary, connecting portals and their importance to the Empire's safety, and then went on to detail their mission's plans.

It was explained that the Marines, supported by Navy patrols, would garrison strategic bases near these portals as well as maintain contingent forces in distant colonies as long as operations called for it. The Navy would set up and maintain standing additional naval bases throughout the Empire to deal with the Stasis Pirate menace and possible clandestine enemy activities.

Gabrielle warned, "The Navy must maintain its carrier battle groups at fighting strength to the point of sacrificing some of the colonies if necessary. This means that our other naval forces will be spread thin, making do with whatever is available. The naval yards are busy upgrading, resurrecting older battle ships and converting available merchantmen into fighting sloops. The fact still remains that we will be dependent on our Wildcatter allies for providing a large part of our colonial protection."

She then pointed toward the Tarezabarian commanders. "Already the Crimson Fleet is preparing to move on the Stasis Pirates, not waiting for a declaration of war. By tomorrow at this time, the Cave Wasps will be departed for the Outer Reaches and into the Trizentine, their captains on clandestine search and destroy missions in an attempt to contain the Stasis with the hope of driving them from our Empire, or their destruction...whichever."

Grim-faced while waving a hand, Gabrielle went on to discuss a troubling subject. "Our weakest point, thus our greatest threat, is the jump portal, Eden's Gate. Allow me a moment to provide clarity for those of you who may not be familiar with this standing dilemma. Eden's Gate is, as some might call it, 'near the vortex of the universe'. Its fingers reach more portal points than any other known portal other than Teleohodos, EdenEsonbar's home portal. What adds even more importance to Eden's Gate is that it connects directly down the chute to the Sinai-Ojibwa Jump Portal located in the heart of League of Brothers' territory. Three days' hard running down the chute from Sinai-Ojibwa to Eden's Gate could put the enemy right at our back door, and we being nearly defenseless to stop his intrusions into our territory. The war would certainly be lost if he possessed Eden's Gate."

Planetee stepped up, adding, "Eden's Gate has exchanged hands several times during this Age of Rebellion. Our people have purchased its freedom at the cost of thousands of lives, finally wresting it from our opponent's grasp during the Great War, but only the exit portal is currently secure. Ever there is a contingent of enemy ships lurking in the shadows of that portal, waiting for some lapse in our vigil to keep it secure. For them, the Sinai-Ojibwa Portal is easily secured by well-equipped bases in a nearby star system. For us, though, we have no supply bases less than three weeks' running, forcing long tours of duty and countless provision ships in order to keep up a substantial defense of the place.

"Should the enemy breach our defenses at Eden's Gate, we would surely lose our bases in the Middle Realms along with most of our star systems, save EdenEsonbar and its nearby local colonies. Once the enemy was fully entrenched, it would be impossible to drive him away, even with massed assaults that would do little more than add dead to the Silent Tombs. The enemy would then slowly strangle us, whittling away our outer defenses until only this planet - Mother's home - would remain in our possession. Then, well..."

Gabrielle spoke up. "Do not become dismayed! We have not revealed these things to you because there remains no hope. Quite to the contrary, we feel confident that eventual victory will be ours, but it will come at a heavy cost! Greater must be the risks that are taken this time, the loss of life and property acceptable sacrifices for the treasures secured. It is sad to say, but success will be measured in obtained objectives regardless of the loss of life." She bowed her head. "That said, allow me, please, to introduce our centurion general, SarahCnidus, commander over Special Forces."

Sarah came forward, a tall, majestic woman with a warrior's stature, but rather shy and somewhat timid with public speech. After a few short comments defining the role of Special Forces, she requested Richard Finhardt join her, asking him to explain the reason for the Special Forces marauder fleets.

Richard began, "The Navy will have its hands full protecting and defending this Empire when war finally comes! The Crimson Fleets and Wildcatters are useful, willing forces, but it will take time to integrate them into our military machine. For the foreseeable future, running patrols and convoy duty will be their primary responsibilities. All in all, we should be well-equipped to maintain a good defense of our territories. But merely maintaining a good defense is not our objective." He waved his hand high, grinning, "We intend to take this war to our enemy!"

An excited murmur rippled through the audience. After things quieted, Richard continued, "Special Forces has decided to follow a strategy conceived in the Lower Worlds of men that up to this day has not been widely practiced by the sons of the gods. It is a game where the mice seek to destroy the cat. Will it be dangerous? Yes, deadly! As it proved to be in my world of old, so it may well come to pass here. Yet, if successful, we may cripple the Beast."

A tear trickled down Richard's cheek. "Recently my people fought a horrendous war in the Worlds Below. As that world went mad, thousands of men took to the seas in iron coffins to fight the enemy from beneath the oceans' waters. Over half of those shipping aboard those denizens of the deep never returned to home or lover. Yet what they accomplished from their silent tombs nearly brought the world of my day to its knees. My former countrymen, alone, managed to nearly decimate the enemy's merchant shipping until a very powerful ally joined with it, bringing the might of the planet's greatest power ever seen into action against us."

He smiled grimly, "Those monsters of iron and steel were cramped and uncomfortable but oh so deadly! They would hunt their prey singly or in groups. The Navy of my country called their hunting a 'wolf pack' because of the way they would gather together to attack the enemy when traveling in convoys. Not only did those brave crews destroy thousands of tonnes of shipping, their actions forced the enemy to expend vast amounts of resources and men to check their hand. When measured against their successes, the loss of those submarine crews was a small price to be paid.

"So," Richard sadly sighed, "it has been decided that the WolfPack Marauder shall find a new life in these worlds of the gods. Already, small merchantmen, howkers, colliers and the like are being fitted out for deep space combat. Like the submariners of my day, our people will take to the decks of these tiny ships and sail off into the unknown on the merciless hunt. Deep into the belly of the Beast will our brave sojourners go, taking the war to our enemy's doorstep. His cities they will harass, and his shipping they will rip asunder."

Richard became silent as his face clouded in consternation, the room becoming as still. He concluded, choking out the words,

" _Brave is the sailor who goes to his death_

With determined smile as he cries,

' _See! I am become the spear and, in my destruction,_

Shall I shake all the worlds of men.

Pray for the day, for the night I shall haunt.

Your worlds I shall burn, my breath a blazing fire.

Fear not storm or the tempest,

For merciful they shall be when compared to my rage.

Fear me!'"

Wiping a hand across his face, Richard turned to Sarah, who slowly nodded her approval. He offered a quiet acknowledgement and returned to his seat.

Sarah clasped her hands, looking out at the people with resignation, sadly commenting, "Please excuse my friend. He knows too well the sacrifices one will make who sails in our WolfPack Marauder U-boats. The chance a brave crew has of returning to home and hearth is slight at best when war comes. There will be no rescue ships searching the wreckage for lost companions when their boats are torn asunder in the cold of dark space or crashed upon some deserted planet in an unknown star system. My friend, Richard, watched a brother and two cousins walk down gangplanks into those beasts of destruction, never to see them return. He knows such a fate awaits many of those taking to the skies on similar missions in this coming war."

She stood tall, grim resolve showing on her face. "Already the black sparrow calls out to those willing to drink the hemlock. Many of your wildest siblings are even now gathering themselves to the coming storm. The ranks of Special Forces, the sons of the Beowulf, are swelling with those seeking revenge for Satan's atrocities committed against your kind!"

Sarah clenched her fists in anger, quietly seething, remembering her own days of slavery in the whoremaster's house. "I will grant them their wish! We shall rain blood and fire down upon this world until the Great and Fear Inspiring Day comes to its finish!"

The astounded audience watched in stunned silence as the centurion general quietly made her way into the shadows. So this was the Gravemaker, shadow-walker with a grudge, with a passion to rip apart their world, seeking to rid herself of long-remembered demons, the woman's zeal for absolution only matched by her desire for vengeance. Good it was that Mother had declared this child holy else they would have believed a demon wraith was risen before them.

Motioning to Trisha, Gabrielle quickly took up the conversation, settling the crowd. "Allow me, please, to present to you our strategy that will eventually win for us this coming war."

Rustling murmurs slowly subsided, Gabrielle waiting until the room was again quiet. With Trisha at her side, she explained, "Code-named 'Operation Triphammer', after the giant forging machines used long ago in our field marshal's world, we intend to stretch our enemy thin as he gobbles up our universe. Then, with the wolves and stinging wasps biting on rear and flank, we shall release the hammer, bringing all our might down on a very weary and surprised enemy."

Taking Trisha's hand and lifting it, Gabrielle smiled, "Allow me, please, to permit our field marshal, ElaiaKallos, to provide you with additional information."

Trisha blushed, her eyes thanking Gabrielle for being so kind. She spoke, the reassuring power of a commander echoing in her voice, "Our objective when war comes is complete victory, with our enemy being driven from this realm! First, though, we must survive his coming onslaught...one that is assured. We intend to accomplish this through the three-pronged strategy called 'Operation Triphammer'. Excitement gradually grew in Trisha's voice as she continued, her body language expressing it as well. "First, when the moment is opportune, our king, Mihai, will declare war on the League of Brothers."

This revelation stunned those hearing it. Never in all the history of the Children's Empire had they advanced the initiative to bring war upon their worlds!

Trisha grinned, "Yes, we believe that Asotos will be as surprised, possibly more so, seeing such a thing rarely has been done before. A move this bold on our part will prove troubling at best, but it is also hoped that the miscreant will be forced to take action against his adversary before he has fully prepared to do so. His rigid command structure is not conducive to swift countermeasures for the unexpected. The temporary confusion created by our king's actions will afford us the opportunity to advance the second and third parts of Operation Triphammer before our enemy has gathered his full might against us."

Trisha's next comment sent shock waves through the room. "The second stage of Operation Triphammer is the invasion of MueoPoros." When things quieted, she explained, "Preparations are already underway for the full-scale invasion of this planet. As was mentioned earlier, we must maintain the security of Eden's Gate at any and all costs. MueoPoros is only two days' running from the Gate, its capital city, Memphis, once called the 'Gateway City', being the destination for those traveling to or from that portal.

"Through murder and deceit, Asotos stole that planet from us long ago, first by Legion's butchery at Memphis. Then, through extensive military campaigns, he obtained the capture of the lesser districts. Countless have been the times our brothers and sisters have attempted to wrest Memphis away from Legion, he turning it into his capital, and countless times have we failed. Well, let him have Memphis! It is no longer of any value to the Children's Empire."

Again the crowd went into a tumult, Trisha waiting for the room to quiet. "Far to the west lies the PrasiaOdous Mountain Range. Not only are the mountains filled with expansive natural caverns, Command believes the rock from which the mountains are made will mine easily, affording us rapidly built shelter for our military, including Navy shipping. When our invasion fleets appear on the horizon, Legion will believe that our intent is to recapture Memphis, thus leaving the PrasiaOdous Mountains undefended. Once we have a hold on those mountains, we will have depots close enough to easily provision any fleet securing Eden's Gate.

"To build an invasion fleet of the proportions necessary, we will have to weaken our military strength in other places. The enemy will expect us to do this, but this is what we want the enemy to expect. Our removal of forces from other parts of our Empire to carry out the MueoPoros campaign will cover up the cocking of the hammer."

She lifted her arm slowly. "The weight of the forge hammer is what smashes the heated iron, but first the hammer must be lifted in order for it to deliver the blow. We must do the same if we are to defeat our enemy."

Looking into Gabrielle's face, Trisha continued, "It has been decided that, under the pretense of supplying our MueoPoros campaign, we will withdraw our military machine to deep within our territories and to our indispensable jump portals. Already the dismantling of manufacturing, food processing and other essential industries in endangered colonies has begun. The machine, my friends, is worth far more than all its parts. The machine must remain intact, should all the other parts be dissolved.

"Navy, Marines, Special Forces and our allies will attempt to protect our weakened colonies. But when it is obvious that it can no longer be accomplished successfully, those territories will be abandoned to their fate. When that becomes the case, all cities, storage facilities, farms, warehouses, supply depots, food supplies, and every other aspect of civilization on those planets will be extirpated."

Sighs and sad groans rose from the assemblage. Many were the tears as these people thought of the beautiful worlds they and their fellows had created being crushed and burned into oblivion. This was not the war they were expecting, could even comprehend! Oh, yes, wars like this were common in the Realms Below, the world that Trisha and her kind came from, but to deliver such destruction here? Some of these colonial cities were thousands of millennia old, their theaters, works of art and very structures almost sacred to the children. These were the immortal works of their own hands, works expected to last forever...or at least in their minds to do so.

Seeing a falling countenance reflected on many faces, Gabrielle spoke up. "Please listen. It is for good reason that such decisions have been made. Our objective must be to deny the enemy the luxury of the fruits of our labors. Trust me on this. I have secreted myself beyond the boundaries of our Empire into the worlds of the rebellious ones. It is a dismal place, I assure you. Food is sufficient, if one choose to eat oats and barley with rations of grizzly meat. People labor all day in sacrifice to the gods of war your evil brother has created. Those who languish under the yoke of Asotos' task-masters eye, with yearning, our larders filled with sweet butters and creamy cheeses, our wine cellars bursting with intoxicating drink, and our fattened cattle.

"Yes! Like ravenous wolves after a cold, bitter winter, they long for our riches. This our enemy knows all too well, and he has promised them great spoil should they defeat us. Their passion for the fight, to bring war against us, is to fill hungry bellies and steal our hoarded treasures. Like the living dead, they will swarm ever onward to satisfy their insatiable thirst, drinking up the blood of our labors until nothing of ours remains."

She took Trisha's hand, squeezing it. "It is for this reason that we must lay waste to our worlds. We must steel the blood so that our enemy will starve, their passions waning for the fight. We must leave no vine or fig tree for them to luxuriate under, no shelter to protect them from the blazing heat or driving rains. Charred warehouses, burnt cities and bloated cattle must be the reward for their lecherous actions. If we are to win this upcoming war, then the invader must be greeted by cindered ruination, poisoned springs, and hopeless desolation."

Gabrielle added a tiny piece of consolation. "We do not intend to abandon our brothers to such desperate despair! Already, arrangements have been initiated to provide escape to safe harbor for all who wish it. It will be only for a moment, and then the evil shall pass. Then, if they should choose, our brothers and sisters, with their souls as a reward, can return to those ruined worlds and build anew better and even more resplendent cities and works of arts."

Smooth and soothing are the words of a healer-songstress, and none were better than Gabrielle. She went on in word and prose, crooning with the passion of a maiden longing for her lover's touch, to describe the future of their world when evil was gone forever. The woman managed to lift the spirits of the weariest of souls. Soon her magic had calmed desperate hearts, filling them with an acceptance of future days.

In time, Trisha again took up the conversation. "History reveals that the enemy's strategy is to sit back silently, pretending to avoid any conflict by negotiating a settlement while quietly stationing his players on the board. Then, when the moment is right for him, his armies of ruination will be unleashed, striking fast, hard and ruthlessly. The actions seen at the prisoner exchange as well as related reports regarding his current activities suggest that this is also being applied to his present method of operation.

"As you have been already informed, we intend to foul up our enemy's plans by preempting his strategy, making war on him first. By appearing to focus all our attention on MueoPoros, he may well believe our attack is an all or nothing attempt to regain that planet, he also knowing the value of Eden's Gate. This he must stop at all cost, so he will bring the weight of his military down on us there. Prepare for another possible Day of Tears being fought both in the skies and upon the ground when that happens."

Another audible groan rose from the assembly.

Trisha lifted her hand, shaking it, exclaiming "Death and destruction are likely, true, but that coming day will not end as the previous disaster did. There will be no running battle ending in a mutual withdrawal from the contest. No! This time we will stand our ground and force our adversary into retreat! We will hold our position to the last ship, the last soldier! Our enemy will find he faces the unchained beast from the fathomless depths. We...yes, we are to become the panther on the prowl, tearing at front and flank, ripping apart his worlds. And this time we shall not stop until his kingdom lies in smoldering ruins!"

Trisha put a hand to her chin and began to pace. "Now here is what we believe will happen. Asotos will attempt to distract us from our hold on MueoPoros by attacking our colonies across our Empire, thinking such attacks must be answered by pulling our MueoPoros forces away to offer defense to those colonies. Believing we have taken the bait, he will advance his remaining armadas against us at MueoPoros, feeling we are sufficiently weakened there to permit him delivering the telling blow upon us. What he does not know is that it has already been determined that those colonies are expendable, anything of any value having already been withdrawn to safer havens.

"Do not think that we will merely walk away from our cities and territories! No! We shall fight doggedly to protect them with the limited forces available. This will convince him that we have stretched our resources to the limit, over-extended ourselves to take one little planet. Then, while keeping up the pretense of supporting Legion's defense of Memphis and his planetary empire, Asotos will transfer the might of his machine to overrun our territories. When we see that power of his released upon them, we shall begin an organized retreat while maintaining an aggressive defense wherever possible."

Trisha stopped and looked up at her audience. "We intend to stretch our enemy's line thin, make him overextend his reach! We, for our part, shall continue to compress our line, falling back further into our Empire, strengthening our defenses while preparing to drop the hammer upon our enemy when the hour is right."

She smiled, "We will give our adversary no break in this upcoming contest, forcing him to remain continually on the hunt. Like the fanged viper, our opponent will quickly learn how unwise it is to release his grip, even if it be for just an instant. We will stretch him..." the field marshal wrung her hands, spreading them, grinning garishly, "stretch him until he is spread out like a broken web on a breezy day. That's correct! Then, when our enemy is stretched to his limit, we shall roll back over him like the angry ocean returning to reclaim its abandoned sea bed!

"Then," she shouted triumphantly, "with the wind at our backs and the WolfPack Marauders and privateers nipping at our foe's heels, we shall smash through our enemy, riding high on our tsunami of retribution, driving him forever from our worlds!"

Slamming her fist into opened palm, Trisha cried, "All that awaits our enemy in that day are the black flames of midnight's fury and the howling, fanged hounds of Hell's furnaces! Look and see, for we are the demons born in the depths of Avaddohn's Abyss! Deformed and twisted we have become, vengeful and filled with delirious rage! We will tear away the flesh and gulp down the blood! We take what we wish, when we want, and how we will!"

Trisha paused, hand lifted high as she stared over into Lowenah's troubled face. Lowenah silently sat there, staring back. Eventually her head slowly sank in sadness, nodding her approval.

Trisha then shouted, "For we, united under our holy banner, are become the children of Heaven, Men, and Hell!"

Jebbson jumped instantly to his feet, applauding, shouting, "Amen! Amen!"

In only moments, all those delivered from the Realms below were on their feet, voicing their support, quickly followed by many of Lowenah's younger children. Then, slowly at first, the remainder of those in assembly stood, adding their support to the riotous tumult.

Lowenah closed her eyes, fighting back tears. 'So it has now come down to this. The Sea of Rhiannon turns red with the blood of my loyal saints. Through damnation must salvation come and I... I have released the storm, and raised the dead to destroy my world so that all my children may live. I've loosed the chains holding back the Kraken to the ruin of all ships...and me. And I unable to return it to its prison...'

Trisha quietly made her way into the shadows, slinking into a dark corner of the room. Rumor had it that those she passed saw tears trickling down a distraught face, accompanied by sounds of soft sobbing. The field marshal's inner voice believed Mother could little contain her sadness, sharing her feelings with Trisha as the two stared into each other's souls.

Gabrielle drew the crowd's attention to other issues at hand. She concentrated on the mechanics of upcoming operations, sticking to anticipated objectives during the months leading up to war and expectations immediately following its inception. It was late into the evening by the time she was finished.

Casting her watchful gaze across the audience, Gabrielle could see half-closed eyes, many yawns and even a few people dozing. Well, it was late, had been a long day, and the information presented weighty. The people should be excused to take their leave. Glancing over at Lowenah, she was about to dismiss the crowd when recalling her earlier conversation with Zadar. Was it really such an important matter the boy had to discuss that the entire party should suffer the lateness of the hour to hear it, she wondered.

Searching tired faces, Gabrielle finally found Zadar sitting far off in the shadows next to the field marshal, his troubled mind and heart reflected in his anxious gaze. What was she thinking anyway? Zadar was no boy! Countless times he had demonstrated his valor, both on the field of battle and within the council chambers. The man was quick of tongue, but only at lighthearted times. A practiced orator he was, and only spoke up on serious occasions when prompted or out of need.

Gabrielle sighed wearily, surrendering to the moment. She lifted a hand toward the crowd. "I know the night is late, but further business must be concluded here. Our brother, ZadarFehyVel, finds need to address us. He has promised to be brief, but on him you must wait to have secrets revealed. Please give your undivided attention to this trusted counselor."

Zadar hurried up to Gabrielle, squeezing her hand in appreciation. After waiting for her to take a seat, he began, "My brothers...my sisters..." then turned and addressed Lowenah, "Mother..."

The people looked into the face of a man waxing grave, his smile long since melted away. Clasping his hands together, his eyes searched to find one particular person. When their eyes met, he slowly lowered his head, staring down at the floor in remorse. Silently he lifted his gaze until again he stared into a distraught face. That person slowly nodded as if in great pain.

Zadar went on to inform those assembled, "An evil man I am for tormenting the soul of my trusting sister. I have ruined her in mind and body, yet it has not been out of malicious intent I have done so. A demon vision I conjured from her through the sharing of the blood grape. So badly did I harm my sister, I believed her kil't, carrying her to Mother, hoping for a cure. She lives not by my will but because so strong a constitution she has so as to resist death. Ever am I in her debt, for so damning are the secrets of the Snake she has delivered to us this night!"

Needless to say, there were no longer any sleepy eyes in the room, everyone wide-awake, ears tingling. Whatever Zadar was about, it was worth a good listen. Why, even Mother was sitting up, ears cocked so as not to miss a word.

Zadar stared into Darla's face, his eyes pleading, "Rumors I had heard of the contest between my sister and the Worm - rumors that hinted at a mind share, or rather a probe. Visions of this man's powers I have had borne to me through the dreams of my sisters, they relating a mind with such abilities that it, alone, can induce love's ecstasy by projecting its thoughts into the mind of another. I for my part then began to wonder if he had done the same when attempting the seduction of my sister.

"So I approached my trusting sister with my concerns, sharing my reasons for a dream share, hoping beyond hope such a thing might reveal hidden secrets sequestered deep within the subconscious of her mind. Feeling a dream share would not unlock any secrets hidden there, the act only releasing visions that one wills, my sister offered to me the blood grape wine aged in the Wizard's Lair under Palace City. Powerful it is, allowing no escape from the visions it creates.

"I was swept, to my terror, into a world passed, filled with such unspeakable malice so as to make a soul cry out for death, seeking it as the promised reward for sacrifice and faithful works. Through the eyes of our king, when her heart was still filled with innocence and mirth, I watched the sadistic savagery of Asotos unleashed upon a mind seeking love's romantic rhapsody. I watched - no endured, through sight and feelings, the abominable acts committed against our sister-king until I, too, wished only for the fields of everlasting death."

He shook a finger high toward the crowd, declaring, "From that day, even now I have not been able to shake those sordid visions from my head, my sleep being fitful at best, and this for me being only witness to what our sister-king endured. But, for our poor sister, Rachel, that child became our sister-king for those agonizing hours that the grape held us in its spell. How she has survived to be with us here is beyond my understanding, for I believe that no woman or man other than Gabrielle or PalaHar should ever endure such a contest and retain their sanity!"

Mihai did not hear Zadar's final words, already having shrunk back in her seat, tears of remembrance running down her face as hands covered red, swollen eyes. Darla sat motionless, staring at the floor, seeking escape from the thoughts of this world by forcing her mind to retreat to more pleasant places, a game she often played when in the company of the ignorantly scornful. It helped little, but a little was better than none at all. At least her demon slept or silently hid. This was Mother's house. Her Spirits would allow no abomination of such an unholy manifestation to intrude here in this sanctum. Darla breathed a weary sigh of relief feeling that to be so.

Tears filled Zadar's eyes as he continued. "As I watched with sickening dread the desecration of our sister-king as her body, soul, and heart were torn asunder, I wondered how our darling sister, Rachel, could possibly be living this same torture through visions so vivid. It was not until in later quiet hours as I pondered the earlier visions that reasoning and understanding revealed to me what some of you already know. But there is more yet to be disclosed that I doubt any are privy to.

"For those wondering about this matter of Michael's attack on the anniversary of her coming of age celebration, I shall offer this bit of information. It is believed by some that Asotos injected into our sister-king's body a virus of sorts, an abominable creation of some kind, an invention of the man's sordid mind, a twisted and corrupted manifestation of an earlier gift from Mother - a gift to be given to our sisters by their god-king so that for all time they might carry a living remembrance of him in their hearts and souls. Never would he be far off from any of them."

Looking into concerned faces, Zadar admitted, "Much more I could say about this matter but for the hour, and I have promised to be brief. Allow me this little bit more. The demon virus appears to have found its way into our sister-king's blood, eventually seeking refuge within her brain, there to wait upon the hour to ravish mind and spirit. Yes, I believe it was not the death of Michael that Asotos sought that day before my birthing, but the eventual ruination of our sister-king's mind and soul as the demon cancer slowly consumed her."

The audience was aghast at this revelation. True, some already believed this to be so, but the general consensus was that Asotos had attempted Mihai's death that day not her damnation.

Zadar raised a hand to hush the people. "So it is, I believe, that while still living within the host's blood, Darla came near to our sister-king and drank her sweet elixir of life. What is milk other than blood filtered through the dregs of the body? So our sister, Rachel, drank her fill, revealing to others the demon living within our sister-king's mind, but the demons entered within her remained undetected for some time to come, yet enter her they did, and remain alive with her down to this day."

The gist of what Zadar divulged was somewhat common knowledge, but what followed stunned the crowd. "Lo, through the visions given me by the wrathful grape, I behold there is another stricken by this demon plague who down to this day remains ignorant of the evil hiding within. If this secret is known at all, I believe it is to only a few of the gods who walk among us." He stared into Gabrielle's face. She quickly looked away, her eyes glancing upon another face in the crowd before seeking the floor.

"What I have learned poses many troubling questions. Does the demon virus reside but in one host once to the brain it has reached, Rachel merely having drunk our sister-king's elixir when the virus remained still in her blood? I, too, as a mere babe, drank my fill at our sister-king's breasts and perceive no monster within me, nor have I been warned of such a thing. Or is the demon virus only dormant, awaiting an hour to release its army of spawn upon this world?"

He lifted a hand, shaking a finger. "This, I do not know for sure. But I do know that it was revealed to the Wicked Worm at the prisoner exchange that his demon-child of sorrow does indeed live, and in a most peculiar place - someone other than his chosen victims. And I am certain that by now he has realized the prizes he had in his possession and allowed to slip through his fingers. Rachel is no longer a stranger to him. Yet I dread that she does not stand alone in the crosshairs of Asotos' attention!"

Zadar revealed Asotos' current abilities to give the virus to others. "Now I do believe that the Evil Worm has lost his powers to conjure up such a living disease to infect his fellows with, Mother taking them from him when she realized what he had done to our sister-king. That being the case, I believe he will seek the capture of anyone carrying his virus spawn in an attempt to replicate that virus so that he can accomplish a most diabolical plan... to infect all the children loyal to Mother, delivering us all to eventual damnation! Or will it only be the women of this universe? I have no answer for this."

Excited whispers like that of a rushing breeze filled the room. The very thought of Asotos' ultimate diabolical plan was so inconceivable to even the most ancient of Lowenah's children - for that matter, even to Lowenah - that it had never come up into their hearts to fathom such a thing. To think that any person, no matter how evil, could perpetrate such villainy was beyond the children's comprehension. Yet, here was the youngest of their siblings revealing it to be so.

Zadar confided, "I saw into the Wicked Worm's mind, he exposing his true nature of purpose when he probed Rachel's soul, believing the woman so witless that she would mindlessly surrender to his wiles. The man was so absorbed, finding secrets hidden within, that he did not bother to cloak his dark, sordid desires as he raped our sister. Yes, rape, I say, for that was the manly violence he attempted on Rachel's mind. But our sister is strong-willed, more so than many, and she resisted his attacks and drove the man away, humiliated."

He lifted a finger, shaking it. "Debate you may wish to make in your councils regarding my revelations, but give ear, please, to my suggestion offered here. The blood grape is a powerful elixir that cares not for strength of disposition or willpower of the mind. Should it fall into enemy hands, I do believe that it could be weaponized and used for mind control or worse, it being used to probe minds of hapless prisoners to obtain secreted information. The possible threat of this happening is far too great considering this is the year of the Tucklebow Berry's fruiting.

"And should the Beast ever reunite with any of his spawn - which I hope is contained in but a few souls - he may well realize the power of the blood grape in spreading this loathsome infection, thus damning all our worlds! The demons being released upon an opened mind, drugged up by that berry, well... well, I dare not even guess the torture suffered by the victim of such an attack!"

The silence in the room was deafening. Fear and doubt crept into many a stalwart heart. To face the Dragon upon the sordid field alone, without Mother's assistance, well, that was something they could fathom. But to stand a battle line against a silent virus transmitted by the most innocent of touches? Biological warfare was not new to the people of this world. But how would one deal with a living spirit designed to entrap and enslave the mind and soul, quietly growing within that mind, all the while spewing its infectious spawn to countless others? This thought was too intense. With pleading eyes, the crowd looked to this messenger of doom for answers to assuage troubled hearts.

Zadar looked toward the floor, sighing, "I suggest that a trusted guard be sent to those mountain valleys where the berries grow. For future generations, the fruit must be preserved but, for the moment, a defense to the death must be mounted to keep that plant out of the hands of our enemy."

A voice called out from the crowd, "But what of our sisters already infected? Should we not find fortified, secret keeps for them until the witching hour passes?"

Zadar answered, "No, and for good reason. First, we must not reveal to the Worm that the secret of the demon virus has been discovered. This will cause him to try that much harder to return his offspring to him. As long as he believes he has time, the fool will remain cautious, not wishing to raise suspicion, he also wanting to keep such knowledge secret. Few will be the confederates he will dare confide in unless he is pressed with need. Let us not press him. For this reason, I recommend that we do not interfere with those who may have the demon spawn residing within them. Proof is that they are not yet infectious, and there are those of us who have the power to detect those demons and what they might be doing - Paul, Garlock, PalaHar, myself and others. I assure you, the Watchers will remain alert, protecting the souls of all of Mother's children." Zadar glanced at Lowenah. She smiled in agreement.

"Secondly," Zadar put a hand to his head as if in pain, "whispers in the dark morning hours have warned me to allow freedom to the Fates. 'Fingers in the pie, fingers in the pie...' How often have we heard Mother speak those words? Well, I believe many fingers are playing in the pie, and those fingers are up to some mischief that they do not want us to meddle in." He again looked at Lowenah and she innocently cast her gaze toward the shadows.

Turning to the crowd, he cautioned, "Do not speak a word of this to any living soul! Carry to your death what you have heard here this day! Let our sisters be, to do whatever duties they have been destined to do. Give them freedom to choose good or bad for themselves. The Whisperers who watch on in secret will allow no lasting harm come to them until the darkness has passed by. All souls must pass through Hell to attain Heaven. Do we view ourselves as any better than the warriors who have already gone before us? So shall we lead our sisters through those fiery gates of eternal torment. If needs be, we all will perish to preserve them alive until the ending hour!"

PalaHar stood, shaking a fist, shouting, "So shall all our souls pass through Hell to save Heaven! Look and see! Sharon rises and the all the oceans turn to blood. Rejoice! Rejoice! The wind is at our backs as we chase the Boatman on the swelling seas across Avaddohn's Abyss! Rejoice! The ending hour calls to us and we will obey its voice!"

"Amen! Amen!" came the exultant reply to PalaHar's proclamation. The room filled with a deafening response as the crowd stood in support. This was going to be a fight to the finish - no armistice or negotiated peace. It was all or nothing. They would take up the helm and chase Death all the way to its end, whatever that might be. For some strange reason, that understanding filled weary hearts with peace. One more battle, one more war - only one, just one - and then it would be over.

When the room had quieted again, Lowenah stood, approaching Zadar. "My son, wisdom beyond the ages has been surrendered up to you. 'And so does good fruit burst forth from a rotten tree.'...and you are good fruit. Legs you have, but also wings to carry you over the rim of the universe into unreachable lands." She bowed, gracefully extending a hand, taking Zadar's.

Still holding fast his hand, Lowenah peered into Zadar's face, hers filled with searching questions. "Oh, wizard sublime - for I perceive you are become a wizard - can you answer for me a most perplexing riddle that has haunted my dreams for countless nights, one for which my closest of counselors has found no solution?"

She waited for no reply. "Long has the Serpent of Despair stolen from me my heart and soul by casting humiliation upon me through deceit and treachery. And yet, even now I cannot bring his everlasting demise until my heart is satisfied - but this time not for love but for vengeance...humiliating vengeance. Tell me please, my squire-prophet and whispering prince, how shall I execute my humiliating vengeance against this Evil Worm to the full so that my heart may rest eternal in peace?"

As he stared into Lowenah's eyes, Zadar's face filled with consternation, his answer grave and ominous. "The firelight of days gone by will light the path of times to come. You walk upon a jagged sky, in search of all the reasons why." He then asked, troubled, "Do you truly wish to satisfy your heart by deceiving your own laws into believing that the Great God of all things may set the very elements ablaze and not become burned by them?"

Lowenah's face paled, stepping back as if being struck. An audible gasp of shock rose from the crowd. What was this all about? How was it that a child born of Mother's flesh dared to question her? Should the Spirits strike him down for such callous insubordination? No! As a god he stood, bold, Mother surrendering to his glory.

Lowenah's heart burned with an uncertain, lonely ache. Had she really come to the end, only to surrender up to the evil, herself? Was she not the Creator of all things, matter, life, emotions... love, joy, hate, fear, revenge? Had her oldest merely succumbed to his own genetic defect, one inherited from her? From her mouth came the title 'Maker of All Things'. Had she made the evil also, somewhere in the secret places of her mind, only to have it eventually rear its grotesque head once it attained maturity? Had Chrusion only reached that maturity before the others?

For an instant of time, the doubt of Rhiannon filled Lowenah's soul with sickly dread. Still, she knew her heart, had suffered its passions and desires for ages unbounded. It was her heart that brought forth the Whispering Voices, the universes filled with mortal life, her children. It was her heart not her mind that drove her ever on, always on to greater and more wondrous possibilities, to this very moment. It was her heart that must be satisfied, not soul or mind. Right or wrong, its ravenous belly must be filled or all would be lost.

Right now, Lowenah's heart desired redemption, absolution from the pain and agony heaped upon it by the Wicked Worm. Future's consequences be damned, for there would be no future should her heart go unsatisfied.

Bowing her head, Lowenah answered through quivering lips, "Vengeance is mine. I shall repay." She looked into Zadar's eyes. "I am the Queen of Darkness! I bring the night, but also the morning. Feed the vulture so that the earth may be cleansed of its putrid sickness."

Tears grew in Zadar's eyes as he replied, "Very well, but listen, please. I warn you, if you choose this road, a child born on a summer day shall fire his heart, your soul to save. And by his brutal strength of might, he'll bring you harm then do you right. A Queen to him you'll come to be, surrendering your heart, your throne to he. His heart will be bound with a ruthless passion to protect the one he loves. Your vengeance waked will his banner be, a jealous rage consuming both his heart and soul. Never will blissful innocence be found in this or any of your worlds again. Should your heart become satisfied, its desire fulfilled, then Holy Evil shall ever reign. Now I ask again, do you wish me to continue?"

Lowenah reflected but a moment, yet in that moment she examined all things past and present. Blissful innocence? Had there ever been a time when it truly existed? For that matter, was anything certain? The universe was built upon a whim, a dream - a very flawed dream at best, if one was to look at this current, dreadful age. Oh yes, peace had ruled for so long, but never had it been guaranteed, though she wished not to think of it during those blissful times. Even now, every step taken forward was into an uncertain future, no assurance that good was everlasting. She trusted the Whispering Voices. Now she would have to trust her soul to a man of flesh.

Closing her eyes and then slowly opening them, she softly answered, "Yes..."

"Very well, then..." Zadar quietly replied.

Lowenah slowly returned to her chair, surrendering the floor to the youngest of her children. Zadar turned his attention toward the others, lifting his arms. "Here I stand, speaking to this great and honorable assemblage. So many wizards, witches, seers, and wise counselors do I see. Yes, and even the Inventor of life and breath itself respectfully stations herself at my feet to listen to what revelations my mouth may offer. Do you not see the folly of it all, that you should surrender up your ears to my words?"

Zadar shook a finger. "No! Why? Because your humble hearts know that I speak only with permission of One greater than I and that I do so out of love and concern for all the company gathered here."

Pausing, Zadar stepped back, clasping his hands behind him, and began to slowly pace in a small circle. "Yet I wonder how long it would be before your hearts would blaze in anger if I should, even with truthful speech, rail against you with denunciations and condemnations for all your real and imagined failures. Should you not wish to stone me in your hearts even though my words might be true, saying, 'What insolence! Where does this little child gain the right to insult and abuse us in this manner?'"

He spun about quickly, facing the audience while pointing a finger. "And what if in a contest of your own riddling wisdom, I should best the most ancient and intellectual of you, and then boast of my success through ridiculing speech and insulting gestures, presenting to the world your foolish reasoning?"

Grinning sinisterly, Zadar shook a fist high. "And what if I, through truth and winsome words, tore down your worlds of sweet majesty, casting the works of your hands into the sewer, all your wonderful philosophical ideology, scientific hypothesis, political councils, your very foundation works of mind and heart that you have studied and developed over ageless time...and then for me to expose all your whimsical fantasies publicly to the universe so that your own siblings begin to mock you with their ridicule?"

Zadar leaned toward the crowd, standing on his toes. "And what humiliation would be heaped upon you should I stir up the peoples to riot and bring down your institutions of learning and thought, destroy your council chambers, burn your writings in the public square and openly condemn you to your faces for being false prophets and wicked seers? Surely you would reel with humiliation as you watched all your works dissolve into nothing while the names of your greatest counselors became proverbial sayings!"

Zadar stepped back, resting clasped hands in front while giving his audience time to ponder the things he had spoken. Some people respectfully considered his words. Others were seen whispering to nearby companions, while some showed faces filled with consternation, wondering just what his intentions might be. Yet all concluded, in agreement, that it would certainly be a great humiliation to have such a thing done to them.

When sufficient time was allowed for the audience to grasp the argument Zadar was making, he continued, "My brothers...my sisters...my trusted companions...your hearts reveal to me the truthfulness of my revelations. But are you people not the very Children of God - her loyal, chosen, servants? Has not her spirit, this very day, sealed your hearts to truth and loyal honor to your very death? Yet the thought of such rueful denunciations charged against you and all your works - even if those charges might prove true - disturb your hearts so greatly that your feelings toward me have been placed in question.

"You are the chosen ones of Lowenah, holy children with refined hearts. Yet my very presence disturbs you to the point of wishing to drive me away, for fear of what my mouth may yet speak. Worry not, for you are of my flesh and my soul. I love you with all my heart and wish no harm whatsoever to any of you, even though a blow you should give to me. I have spoken what I have to reveal this observation I have made, that it is the heart, not the mind, from which humiliation gives rise. Yes, the unreasoning heart loves or hates, becomes ashamed or inflamed, not the mind. The war of revenge, then, must be waged against the heart for its success to be made complete!"

Zadar looked at Lowenah and then back at the others. "Now listen, please, for I have not spoken to you with empty speech or hollow words. Chrusion, the greatest of all of Mother's children, the most splendid in beauty, tongue, wisdom, and might, until he fell from the heights into the dismal abyss of self-aggrandizing loathsomeness - this same man sees not his world filtered through the mind, for had he done so, he would still walk among us our saint, but he chose to worship the person of the heart, enslaving his flesh to its whimsical platitudes.

"And so it has come to pass that only through a corrupted, selfish heart does this man see anything at all, and all things approved by him must satisfy the whims of his degenerate heart. I perceive, then, that one need not bring down the Worm's house through strength of might to destroy his world, but to only slap his heart a telling blow and he will destroy his own house in an attempt to gain revenge. Through his desire for revenge, will Mother's revenge be assured."

Lowenah leaned forward, ears alert for what her son might say next. He did not disappoint. "I saw in my visions with our sister, Rachel, as the blood grape devoured her mind and soul, the selfish intent of the Wicked Serpent as he sought to enslave her body and spirit. His pride was so great, as I have previously stated, that he believed her already his prisoner, thus not bothering to cloak his real intentions from her should she fall to his entreaties. His humiliation at her refusal to go with him has brought us to the nearing hour of renewed war, the man's pride refusing to allow him to overlook Mother's slap. At any cost, he must have revenge on her and her entire house.

"Yes, Rachel's actions proved to be a public humiliation for him. But it was not made complete because the woman did not hold the line all the way to its end, but sought another avenue of escape, thus taking a stand neither on his or Mother's side. Brave and righteous this woman is, few being more so, yet in the Universal Court of Law, her case in defense of Mother cannot be made, thus no vengeance can Mother gain from the actions of our sister."

Darla's head sank in dismay, her silent tears flowing freely. Those who glanced in her direction quickly turned away, wondering if they would have had the strength to have done better.

Zadar apologized to Darla, cursing the need to reveal these agonizing truths. He explained, "I bring up this matter to make an important point about the Worm. If, because of the stalwart actions of one woman, Asotos is willing to risk the fates of war and ruination to accomplish his revenge, then through the actions of one monkey child... one bred through his making... he may well bring down his entire universe for the same cause!"

Again heads wagged as the room filled with hushed chatter. Zadar quieted them. "It has been said that Tolohe stood in Eden's garden and made the pronouncement to the woman of her seed and the Devil's spawn warring to his destruction. I tell you a sacred secret, the woman's seed was not Abram's - our Michael \- but another, a child of abomination, for the woman's seed and the Devil's seed are but one seed."

Zadar lifted a hand in pronouncement. "And so becomes Desmond, the Lord of Darkness and the Light. Black and white, evil and good... So shall the seed wield the magic of the Darkness to shatter the night and bring glory to the day. By the serpent shall the Serpent be eaten, and by the fire shall the fire be consumed. Then all the works of evil shall become holy, locked everlastingly in the very heart of the one loving Lowenah so much."

He turned and faced Lowenah. "My Lord, my God, I have revealed then to you my strategy for your vengeful success. Remember, please, the cost for using this weapon. Should you choose to do so, then all hope and life rests upon the future choice of a man untested. Should he fail, then all your works will fade away into nothingness. Remember you own words: 'Elijah must come or I will destroy all things.'"

He added one final warning. "Never again will innocence rule your worlds, for forever will the machinations of the Wicked One reside in your house."

Lowenah's face beamed. Ignoring Zadar's warning, she jumped to her feet, crying out with passion, "You have gifted me with a treasure beyond measure! To you, my wise and noble son, I give the rank of lieutenant colonel, aide de camp and personal liaison to our field marshal, Trisha."

Zadar bowed respectfully, saying nothing.

After walking over to Zadar and wrapping her arm about his waist, Lowenah pointed toward a person in the shadows. "This man's trusted companion sacrificed all give to us - to me - secret knowledge that has led to this victorious moment. May I recommend that his ally in deed be promoted to rank of major in the Marine Division serving the Third Fleet."

Commodore General Planetee stood, grinning, asking, "For the record, what person of such valor do you refer?"

Lowenah's clear answer was quick. "My darling Rachel..."

Planetee was beginning to make her acceptance when another voice shouted above the others, " _I object!"_

All eyes searched for the person behind the voice. Lowenah turned, surprised, curtly replying, "Ardon, we are not here to debate my decisions! I am an able enough person to conclude the wise road. Be silent!"

Ardon refused. "No one doubts your intent or the child's righteous loyalty to you and cause, but your son's own revelations reveal a heart in tumult - a tumult that might sway a reasoning mind into making hasty decisions!"

Lowenah fumed, shaking a finger at Ardon, "This is not up for discussion! I have asked an experienced officer, commander over all Marine forces, permission to do this thing. It is her counsel I will listen to, not yours!"

Ardon countered, arguing, "Look about you at the faces in the crowd. By your very public declaration, you have invited debate. I am not the only one here concerned about demons and devil spawn, handing command over hundreds to one untested as to fitness."

Lowenah turned her attention away from Ardon and studied the faces in the crowd. Oh yes, many were very angry with Ardon, but others reflected concern over what he spoke. She feared not her daughter, believing fully in the girl's strength of character and secret powers protecting the girl.

Ardon suggested, "Another reward, more fitting, should be offered for the woman's valor. Then all can watch and see if any of our doubts are legitimate."

Planetee was incensed and wrathful. "Foolish man, shut your mouth before I shut it! There is not to be found a more trustworthy soul in the mortal universe than our Rachel. She has never faltered! Nor does she talk with the wind."

Ardon chided her, asking, "It is late in the day. Has the wine freed you mouth to speak so boldly?"

Her face red with rage, Lowenah screamed, "Shut up, you two! All of you! Shut up or I shall teach you all a thing or two! This is my keep! My world! My universe! So easy I brought you into this world, and easier still is it for me to take you out of it!"

She stared into Darla's face, now a mask of hidden emotion, the same face so often displayed when as a little child she silently stood in the corner while the others in the room politely ignored her. Where did the girl go at times like this? What worlds had she invented to wander away to? Ardon's actions were so uncalled for.

With clenched fists, Lowenah angrily shouted at Ardon, "You have hated my child from the day of her birthing! Why don't you take a knife and be done with her, instead of raping the girl day and night in front of the public assembly!"

Ardon decried the accusation. "I wish no harm to it... I seek what is only good for the others, to make close observa..."

Lowenah cut him off. "Shut up, you! I will not tell you again..." She then addressed Planetee. "How say you regarding my request?"

Planetee first looked over at Darla, her heart filled with sorrow for her little sister, then answered resolutely, "Should you ask her to lead all your armies, I would gladly surrender my soul to ride behind her banner. What you ask is too small a reward for her."

Lowenah stared down at her hands in contemplation. So much she wanted to pour her rage out upon Ardon, make an example of him in front of the others and humiliate him just once as he had done to her Rachel so many times. But no, this must not be done. Other eyes watched and ears listened. Justice, as blind as it often was, must be satisfied in the hearts of her children. But how might justice be served while teaching that fool, Ardon, a lesson at the same time?

Slowly she faced Ardon, asking, "If someone wise and long in years, honest and respected among their peers, someone trustworthy to the others clear unto death, were assigned to remain close as an observer, to make sure no demon spawn might escape to contaminate this world, would it be enough to assuage your concerns, so that I may gift my daughter with my request?"

With her eyes boring into his, Ardon felt compelled not to pursue the matter. "Yes," he slowly nodded, "a wise and noble observer will serve that purpose well."

Lowenah then addressed Darla. "RachelOchlah, you have been offered the position of major in the Marines in the king's service, your appointment pending upon this one little request of mine: to place beside you a trustworthy, noble and wise seer to serve as your leftenant of staff, to serve under your direction and obey your orders unto death, but be accountable for making report to me regarding the issues raised here this day."

Fear gripped Lowenah's heart as she peered into Darla's face. Grim it was, with an apparent resolve to reject Lowenah's request. But Darla was a good girl, always obedient to the smallest of Mother's desires. Darla finally answered that she would, struggling out with, "Your faithful servant..."

Lowenah slowly turned to face Ardon, a smile creeping across his face melting away as she addressed him. "First Leftenant Ardon, seeing that you are the wisest of all my counselors, and so deeply concerned for the welfare of all my children, I have chosen for you this very important assignment. I know of none other more qualified to carry out all your recommendations you have made here this day."

Waiting for no reply from the man struck speechless, Lowenah turned her attention back to Darla. "Major, you have accepted your position in the Marines and have been assigned one of your staff officers. Do you have anything you wish to say?"

Darla, struggling with her monster within, the veins in her neck turning purple, after several breathless moments choked out, "I will obey you in this matter, but be warned, should this man become a threat to the welfare of the others in my charge, I will put him down, killing him if necessary! There is no place for fools in my command! Have I spoken clearly enough?"

Lowenah took a step back in surprise. What were her youngest children about? This was a day of revelations for everyone. Looking into Darla's eyes, she could clearly see that the woman was speaking without bravado. Oh yes, contempt and vehement hatred had spewed forth with her words, but honesty also. This woman cared as much for the people in her charge as a mother for a newborn child. Ardon must play it straight or he might fall victim to Rachel's violent wrath.

"Leftenant Ardon, step forward!" Lowenah called.

Hesitating at first, Ardon dutifully obeyed.

Lowenah pointed at Darla. "See your new commanding officer!" She then quietly warned, "If you wish to survive, I suggest you carefully heed your commander's orders." At that, Lowenah adjourned the meeting, thanking the people for staying, offering refreshment in the dining hall.

Few lingered in the Theater that night, quietly shuffling out through the double doors and down the staircase to disappear into the late night shadows along the northern concourse. Those remaining found secluded corners to conduct unfinished business. Lowenah quickly slunk away to private rooms beyond the auditorium. Silent and empty the dining hall remained, its tables piled high with scrumptious dainties untouched.

Ardon lingered, nervously waiting to be assailed by his new commander only to see her assisted from the room by Chasileah and Euroaquilo, the woman hunched over in fitful sickness. Breathing a sigh of relief, he hurried off to find Lowenah in hopes of convincing her to change her mind by emphasizing his importance to Mihai and her council.

The Theater was hidden in deep shadow as Ardon made his way through the catacomb of passageways and antechambers in his search for Mother. Surely she must be squirreled away in one of the many rooms exiting off the main gallery. In time, he came to a room with its door slightly ajar. Peeking inside, Ardon could see Lowenah standing in the distant corner, facing the far wall, her arms wrapped about herself.

Slowly opening the door, Ardon softly called out, "Mother, it's Ardon. May I..."

A caustic response chilled the air. "What do you want?"

Ardon hesitated. "I...I'm sorry if I may have offended you. I didn't mean..."

Lowenah whipped around, glazed-over eyes in a tearstained face glaring at Ardon. "Sorry! Is that all you are, sorry? Why didn't you just take a knife and murder my child this night? Sent her to Hell, you did, have always done! The prattle of your mouth is excrement to my ears! My daughter! Oh, my little Rachel! What did she ever do to you that you should hate her so?"

She shook her fist at him. "All she has ever been to you is an abortion that lived to ruin your perfect little world. Do you think my Rachel has no soul, no feelings?" Gripping her head, she cried, "More love does my little child have for me than all my other children combined! _You ass, ruthless, evil ass!_ Murdering my child is not good enough for you, no! Bring her down and drag her through the dirt, rape her heart in the public square, tear her soul apart to extol your own wisdom!"

Lifting her hands high while pointing a finger back toward herself, she mockingly chided, "'Oh, the great and wonderful Ardon am I, filled with wisdom beyond normal.'"

Lowenah angrily poked Ardon's chest. "Fool! My daughter cracked? Should you be as sane if Heaven and Hell had conspired against you as it has her! Not one day of peace has my Rachel known, yet to see the dreams and visions of her thankless siblings fulfilled, she has consigned her soul to the fires of Gehenna's altar, surrendering her virginity up to the gods of war."

She then pounded her chest. "My child loves me! Loves me! And for some reason that makes no sense to me, she loves you, too - you and all your uncaring brothers and sisters!"

"Loves me?" Ardon cried.

Lowenah spat, "Yes, loves you, too, or you wouldn't have lived to be standing here. That child could cut you down in the blink of an eye with her bare hands. Had she not loved you, her monster would have torn you asunder this very eve. But, no! With strength beyond normal, the child forced it into retreat."

She turned and walked away, staring at the wall. "And you worry about her demon..." Throwing her hands up, Lowenah lamented, "Oh, for the counsel of AsreHalom..."

Ardon was taken aback as though slapped. "Mother?"

Lowenah groaned, resigned, surrendering up the moment. "You crossed the line this day! Deserving of death you are! Tortured will the dreams of my children become during the approaching darkness. It had been my desire to give to them a small gift, a tiny remembrance, a little glimmer of refreshing light to recall when hopelessness crept about their door. You, such a respected and highly favored courtier murdered the moment, leaving empty their hearts on coming bitter nights."

Smarting from Lowenah's previous insult, Ardon could not comprehend where he had failed. He extended his hands, shrugging in innocent puzzlement, "Mother, how have I failed you? A counselor I am and counsel I gave."

Lowenah turned around, grasping Ardon's hands, her face filled with consternation, countering, "How have I failed you? Can you not see? No... No, you cannot..."

She looked away, sighing sadly, "I must do what is right for my daughter-child if it should cost me all the souls in my universe. I must do her right."

Looking back into a perplexed face, Lowenah smiled, dismayed, "I do not send you away as a punishment. Lessons there are for you to learn if the other side of midnight is yours to possess with understanding. Yet more..."

She softly stroked Ardon's arm. "My Rachel is most precious to me, and I am sending her into the Devil's cauldron to save both Heaven and Earth. You must protect my child from the witching hour when the stormwind dies and the demons rise from Satan's abyss. In that hour, the Fates will submit to your decisions, trusting to the wisdom of my counselor. To survive, you must face the necromancer who will taunt you from the other side of the looking glass. To defeat the pursuing demon hosts, you must find the rabbit hole... and to save the world, you must lead my child down it. There, in your secret wonderland far from the ravenous wolves, harbor my child safe until her healing hour."

She lovingly squeezed Ardon's hands, peering deeply into troubled eyes. "Protect my Rachel's spirit, for it will one day assist you in discovering your own soul."

Lowenah stood up on her toes and gave Ardon a gentle kiss on his lips. "Remember that I love you. Goodbye, son..." Stepping back, with a lonely smile, Lowenah turned and faded away silently into the dark shadows.

(Author's note: _I gleaned a great deal of information regarding the Council of Eighty from Volume II of the yet to be published_ _Lukas Diaries_ _, authored by MarkusLukas. Following are excerpts from notes I took while perusing those writings wishing to include them here for the added insight of the reader_.

_MarkusLukas was witness to the Council of Eighty, and his account of it in the_ _Lukas Diaries_ _is his first-hand recollection, which he liberally splashes across the pages of his account._

_MarkusLukas is a somewhat reclusive fellow, finding pleasure looking out from the shadows rather than standing in the light. His exploits during the King's War are obscured by stories of the flamboyant and colorful characters that dance across the tapestry of history immortalized, yet exploits they were, and valuable to king and cause_.

Though being a man from the Realms Below, MarkusLukas faithfully served the king's council throughout the war as secretary delegate to the Archival Temple, the library in Palace City, he being responsible for organizing and cataloging all governmental communications and documents. His position also opened doors of entry to Mihai's secret wardroom and council meetings, making him privy to events going on throughout the Children's Empire, thus the extreme value of his soon to be published memoirs.

_An important point the author made to me was that the term 'Council of Eighty' is a misnomer, the true number of those invited never revealed. From the best information I have received to date, it appears that the eighty did not include any of the attendees from the Lower Realms, Mihai and other leading officers or council members, and that the number itself was only representative as to having the meaning of fullness...filled up to the full, leaving Lowenah flexibility in choice of invitees_.)

(Author's note: _Originally, I had included a great deal of the following information in the narrative on the Council of Eighty, but later chose to remove it to better retain the continuity of the account. Deciding these details might be of added value to the determined reader, I have included the original draft of this portion of the Council of Eighty here, at the end of this chapter.)_

They began with projected, three-dimensional maps of the Empire. Gabrielle offered, "For ease of explanation, we use Palace City to define location. Through it runs the center matrix or starting point of all quadrants. North, south, east, west are easy to comprehend. For the third dimension, we use the term Q-North for up and away from the Palace and Q-South for the opposite direction. That understood, allow us to inform you of our strategy.

"Far to the east-northeast by Q-South lay our most vulnerable territories, with the Trizentine just beyond. It is a sparsely populated area, maybe a few hundred thousand inhabitants, but it is among the oldest of the territories. The Stasis pirates are quite troublesome in this arena and a disproportionate number of our ships have been stationed there to protect the scattered colonies.

"To the north, Q-North to Q-South, sits the Northern Rim. The Kalahnit Straits are located on the inner hip of the Rim. There are several planets here that we have use of to maintain control of this jump portal, Avery being the most notable of them.

"In the west, Q-North to Q-South, the Fourth Fleet patrols as far as the Chrusion Star System. There are only a few known jump portals in all these quadrants. The risk of invasion from this vantage point is slim, but not impossible. For the time being, we will leave about half the Fourth Fleet in the area and move the remainder into the southern sphere where immediate support will most likely be needed.

"The Hindly Page...Stargaton holds sway over this portal. We currently have in our possession this planet and its star system. It will not be easy to defend. During the six major wars, it has changed sides fourteen times. The fortress, Mordem, is our key city on this miserable rock. Yet, without use of the Hindly Page, we lose our defense of the entire eastern quadrants north, past the Frontier. And to the south, our hold on Eden's gate, which is already tenuous, would be dangerously threatened.

"This brings us to our most important strategic point of defense...Eden's Gate. As many of you already know, this was the most hotly contested arena of the last war. The reason for our victory over Asotos' armies was the taking and holding of this one jump portal. We realize how great his desire is to take it back and, should he accomplish it, our forces may have to abandon all things, save our local star system. The enemy would then have virtual reign over the entire Middle Realm and most of the First. Once he entrenched in those new positions, I doubt that even massed assaults could drive him away.

"At the present time, we have too few properly fitted ships to even adequately patrol our territories and trade routes. The fleet is aging, with over ninety percent dating from the Great War or before. The bulk of our fighting force is made up of cutters, barks, and smaller frigates...about three thousand in total. Large frigates, cruisers and small capital ships amount to about two hundred seventy-five, while all remaining capital ships and carriers are less than forty.

"Now, for our fighter squadrons little can be said. The newest fighter is still based on the TKR-series, with some version of the '17' being our best frontline ship. These are still very good craft. Trouble is, there are too few. The backbone of the fighter force is still the TKR-14, and most of them are as old as the fleet. The total number of all fighter craft, including the heavies, amount to fewer than twelve thousand, and most of them are scattered across our countless outposts and small bases."

She summed up the dismal numbers. "The Empire is too vast for us to successfully defend it all. Our forces are not sufficient to protect the entire Empire. Asotos will strike us somewhere, and he will strike fiercely, having the advantage of surprise as to where and when. It is unlikely we will receive more than scant warning to gather our fleets and armies to stave off the attack, and even if we were to do so, I feel it would be of little value. Like the giant octopus, Asotos' military machine is powerful and has many limbs, allowing it to attack on many fronts. His first forays shall be done to probe our defenses or excite us into chasing shadows. We must not allow him the pleasure of finding an exposed flank we opened by doing such a thing.

"So, we are going to have to act accordingly. The enemy will strike and we will be forced to shrink back, abandoning cities, planets, and even star systems. This will happen regardless of the resistance put up to stop it. We have no choice.

"All reports indicate that our enemy's strategy is to move quickly, strike fast and hard, create dismay and confusion, and hurry on to the next objective. Our prepared resistance, albeit small as it sometimes might be, will still slow down his timetable, thus forcing his use of more supplies and war materials. It is hoped that his warehouses are not sufficiently filled for a protracted war, eventually blunting the spearhead of his army, as it begins suffering shortages of various kinds.

"These two things, the inability to disengage and supply shortages, can be troublesome enough, but we have even prepared other treats that await our brother. Specially trained contingency forces will remain behind in captured lands to offer their greetings to the invaders. Their job will be to terrorize the occupying army, disrupt communications, destroy supplies and transportation, and to neutralize any and all leadership.

"Our brothers from the Crimson Fleet have offered their ships to our service. These will do search and destroy, not only against the Stasis Pirates and enemy convoys, but some of the Tarezabarian ships will be dispersed throughout the hunter fleets - the wolfpacks - if I may be allowed to borrow a phrase from the Second Realm." She glanced over to General Finhardt, who smiled back. "These ships of the wolfpacks shall be responsible for finding enemy supply lines. They will communicate locations with other ships and will join into packs to attack, en mass, lightly defended convoys.

"The Tarezabarians have also offered to be dispersed among various ships within the fleets. Their dialect is unknown to our ears, making their common speech like some secret code. This will allow for rapid communication among our ships, while confusing the enemy.

"As we pull back, our military will become more compressed. Our transportation, communication and support lines will be short and well-defined. At a moment yet to be determined, we will trip the hammer! An assault on all fronts will simultaneously be opened against Asotos' armies! Like a swinging sledge, it will smash against our antagonist, its shock sending him reeling! If successful, this punch will be the start of the campaign to drive Asotos from this Realm!"

She then strongly cautioned, "Success here should lead to victory later. But let me warn you, the victory will come at an unprecedented cost! We expect thirty to fifty percent casualties of all enlisted personnel with the winning of this war!"

Planetee detailed how the Marine officers ranked within the interdisciplinary relationships between both the Army and Navy. "Although always united under one field marshal, the chain of command structure has remained somewhat different in either department of service. The acting captain of any ship has been recognized as the traditional authority in deciding who should stand the bridge in the event of his or her absence. Should a higher-ranking officer be aboard at such a time, the acting captain may still choose whichever officer he or she desires, and that choice customarily remains final. A junior officer acting in the stead of the captain commands the ship with the same authority of his or her successor, and that junior officer need not be selected in order of rank among those of the junior officers aboard.

"It has been decided by the chiefs of staff to follow similar procedures for the Marine Officer Corps when it comes to taking the bridge except if a higher ranking Marine officer comes aboard while another Marine has the bridge, the senior officer, while not disturbing ship's command, will automatically take charge of the Marine troops. The reason for this is that Marine commanders will often find themselves with mixed combat units. Using the Army's method of having responsibilities fall upon the highest ranking officer present reduces confusion as to who the lower echelon of soldiers are to receive orders from.

"As to the inter-relationship between the Navy and themselves, generally Marine officers will not interfere with the administration of the ship they are on. But this I do want you to understand: A Marine officer of the rank of major or above is a superior ranking officer to the captain on board that ship and may, if necessity warrants, act like a commodore or admiral and take command. In that event, the choice of command structure for the ship and its crew will fall to the Marine officer who now controls the bridge, and this will remain such until command is voluntarily surrendered or naval admiralty officially decides differently."

Planetee explained some of the minor details concerning the training of new officer recruits and pointed out that all Marines would be given special military training. All future officers were to be drawn from active military personnel.

The words of Centurion General SarahCnidus were few. "From the ranks of your military forces, my students will be gathered. The best and most cunning will disappear into the darkness. Our ships shall hunt down the weak and unwary. Our troopers shall decimate the secured encampments. Our very purpose is to heap as much harm and confusion upon our opponent as is possible.

"The joint commanders have given me their full support. I will be coordinating activities with them and will be able to supply needed information regarding enemy troop movements and activities. If my people do their jobs well, neither you nor the enemy will be aware of our presence or activities until our missions are finished." She turned and silently drifted back to her seat, saying nothing more.

Field Marshal TrishaQaShaibJal stood and took the floor. She began with defining the new restructuring of the Army. "Each army unit is to be composed of a given number of corps, that number to be decided by need of efficiency and enlistment. Between two and ten divisions are to be allotted each corps, with each division having from four to six brigades. In turn, each brigade will contain six regiments, and each regiment will be composed of six companies. An infantry company will have five hundred soldiers, excluding officers and adjutants. Cavalry, motorized combat, sea and air fleet, armor and transportation commands are all essential for the success of our infantry. Their structure is similar in makeup as to my afore-described arrangements but with greater flexibility of formation and unit size which will be decided as need dictates by the corps commander.

"These aforementioned units are designed around supporting infantry divisions and brigades operating under the direction of those respective commanders. They will remain fluid enough to act as infantry support, or when necessity dictates, act as independent, compact, mechanized fighting arms. It is also noteworthy to point out that the size and scope of such units are currently limited because of our manufacturing abilities. Infantry soldiers are relatively easy to equip and train, so their growth in numbers is already outstripping the support elements of our military machine. It will be necessary to have mechanized forces if the invasion of MueoPoros is to be successful.

"We are enacting a 'recall and salvage' operation to help bolster these forces. In general, defending a position in a delaying action requires mainly ground support troops combined with naval action. For this reason, in designated areas believed to be untenable, we will begin to remove heavy machines of war, mechanized weapons, aircraft, surface ships, and other machinery. We hope to scuttle whatever remains behind. To assist with future manufacturing, we will also dismantle factories and other important systems in danger areas, relocating them to safer territories.

"If the battle is to be won, it will be done by the hands and with the blood of volunteers! Yet there will be some necessary actions forced upon us that we regret must be taken. In areas of high risk of capture, our armies will be forced to deprive the enemy of their plunder. We are forced to recognize the need to remove or destroy any supplies or properties benefiting the enemy. If possible, a record will be made of such losses to individuals and, when practicable, they will be compensated for their loss. This does not apply to loss caused by the enemy through combat or occupation.

"It has also been decided that all possible effort will be advanced to help local inhabitants desiring to escape danger of being trapped in enemy occupied territories. Safe transport to secure locations is even now being offered to any requesting it."

* * *

Darla softly stroked Ishtar's arm while staring into a tear-stained face, sweetly cooing, "Don't be so glum, my darling one. Our parting will not be for forever as you say it will be. Just a little while..." She choked back her own tears. "Just a little while is all it will be."

She looked down at the tiny crystal figurine Ishtar was fondling. It was part of a winged menagerie of her making, the flying stallion, KadashShure, being a magical creature from a tale told Darla by PalaHar when she was little more than a babe. "Such a majestic and heroic beast it was, saving a little child such as I was at the time from wicked monsters intent upon her capture."

Reaching down and touching the figurine, she mused, "That stallion became something symbolic to me, special... my protector, I guess. For me, KadashShure became emblematic of our great warhorses of LathraNesion, the KaminosKtisis. Wondrous they are! There is none other like their kind, nearly indestructible. Fast and powerful, as if on wings they carry you. I first mounted such a beast just before a battle during one of the Megiddo Wars, I giving it the very name of my hero from PalaHar's tale. Whatever... My mount lived up to its name, protecting me throughout that campaign."

Through tear-filled eyes, Ishtar confessed, "Pegasus...for me it looks so much like Pegasus, or so as my father described it to be." She looked into Darla's face with pleading eyes. "May I call it 'Pegasus' in remembrance of my father's tales told to me?"

Darla smiled, tenderly closing Ishtar's fingers over the crystal figurine. "Call it as you like. It's yours, the hero you wish it to be. Pegasus is a fine name, such as I believe your father was a fine man."

"Thank you," Ishtar grinned, "my father was my world."

Darla was surprised how difficult this parting of souls was becoming. When healthy enough to travel, she had made her way back to Ishtar's village, lavishing as much time as possible upon the child, knowing that all too soon other duties would separate them. Neither woman wished to leave the other's company, so deeply close they had grown over the past few days.

Two weeks had already passed since the Council of Eighty, and now only hours remained before Shikkeron left port on its eastern patrol. After certain others' input, Darla requested use of Shikkeron because of its availability at the time as well as its crew's familiarity with the Eastern Colonial Regions. This had not set well with Captain Bedan, who saw Darla as a threat to his authority, she being a superior officer of rank and able to take the helm of the ship should the woman feel the need to do so.

Darla had done what she could to ease tensions by assuring Bedan that his authority would not be questioned when it came to ship's operations, maintaining her only desire was seeing to the welfare of the Marines under her command. It was Leftenant Crilen who finally managed to broker an uneasy truce, reassuring Bedan of Darla's humble, honest desire to ally herself with the captain in protecting the Outer Colonies. Since then, Darla had divided her time tending to business at Palace City Spaceport during the day while romancing the nights with her precious charge.

Now they were come to the final hour. Shikkeron was casting off at the rising of the high summer moon, taking Darla into an uncertain future. And Ishtar? Well, her future still hid in distant shadows.

Ishtar whimpered, stroking Darla's long, satiny tresses, "Must it be this way? You say this is Heaven, yet I have heard only troubling tales of coming woe while watching my companions dress up in the garb of war to go marching off into destruction! Now you are suited up in the attire of a soldier, saying you are taking to the skies in one of those giant birds of prey, and I... I am stranded here, all alone. If this is really Heaven, our promised reward, why must you leave me, and why does it hurt me so that you are doing it?"

Darla leaned forward, kissing Ishtar's forehead, softly answering, "Oh, my darling woman-child, should I be the master of the game then I would never leave your side, making our sweet music together until the moon and sun were no more. Yet it is not I who spins the hands of Gradian's Clock, the great timepiece that sets the months and seasons for this world. Tomorrow, tomorrow, my Love... We must look toward tomorrow while dreaming of our yester-moments."

Ishtar lowered her head, whining pitiably, "I'm afraid I will never see you again! I have overheard tales your people tell of death and destruction of both lovers and companions. They speak of love lost and aching hearts. Are you immortal? That I doubt, if I am to believe your own words. I fear your murder and my loss... my loss of never seeing, touching, caressing you again!"

The officer accompanying Darla suddenly excused himself, saying he would return momentarily. Darla smiled, tears filling her eyes, "We will be together again, and in not so long a time. Our romance we will share again under summer's moon. My breath...our breath will mix in love's embrace once again, I promise."

Resting a hand upon Darla's uniformed blouse, softly pressing her breast while fingers played rhapsodic with a hardening nipple, the woman's milk beginning to stain the cloth, Ishtar looked in Darla's eyes with yearning. "Do we not have time for just one more sweet interlude before you leave? Must I remember this parting moment with only a kiss? Oh, for another taste of your sweet honey upon my palate..."

Darla was preparing to reply when the officer returned. "Major," he politely, saluted to get Darla's attention, "our driver has informed me that we have a minor mechanical problem and there will be a slight delay before we can leave. She says that it should be fixed in an hour or so. With your approval, I have offered my assistance in making the repair."

Darla thanked the officer for the information and his willingness to assist their driver. After his departure, she turned her attention to other matters. "Well..." she paused, her eyes shouting out her own wistful longing, "we have an hour to while away. Would you wish to share it with me in more secluded places?"

Ishtar wrapped her arms about Darla, kissing her hard on the lips. Her passions rising, the girl cooed sensually, "Come with me and let me taste your love."

Hand in hand, the two hurried away into the shadows, bolting the doors to their private world behind them.

* * *

The hustle and bustle of ships preparing for departure was quieting in the early evening haze. Shikkeron was mustered in with a flotilla of freightliners, transports, howkers and sloops, the main body slated to rendezvous with the Third Fleet while others would eventually break away for some of the distant eastern colonies. Supporting them were the imperial brigantine Shikkeron, cruiser DusmeAstron, and an assortment of converted colliers, ore freighters, and whatnots that the Navy equipped and called 'armed escorts'. After reaching the Third Fleet, Shikkeron was assigned escort duty, accompanying a small convoy of transports on to more distant colonies in the Trizentine. From there it was to take up a three month patrol before returning to the Crontiriny Navy Depot for its long-needed refit.

Captain Bedan quietly fussed over the lateness of the hour as Euroaquilo silently paced the captain's bridge anticipating Darla's arrival. He looked over at Bedan, musing, "There is plenty of time before the window closes upon our opportunity for departure. Some of the ships are still at the loading docks and are awaiting the remainder of their officers and crews. The major will be here soon enough."

Bedan politely grumped that an officer in charge should already be at station at such a late hour, not off wandering about aimlessly, leaving junior officers to be saddled with those weighty responsibilities.

Euroaquilo raised an eyebrow, staring into Bedan's face, pondering. Bedan was little older than he, was loyal enough to cause he guessed, but lacked the natural leadership abilities necessary to command in the Empire's Navy, at least as far as Euroaquilo was concerned. He had not been pleased when Mihai approved Anna's suggestion that Darla make Shikkeron her command ship for this tour of duty, and was pleased even less when he realized the animosity Bedan displayed toward Darla.

Something was amiss with Bedan regarding Darla - more than just the fear of usurpation of his office should difficulties arise. Possibly it was the rumors being bandied about concerning the woman's mental constitution or Ardon's unrestrained blathering regarding her during the long trip to Chrusion and back aboard Starlight. Still, Euroaquilo did not like it. Darla, though, had rejected his suggestion that she request transfer to another ship, replying that one makes due with what one has and that there stood a good chance Bedan's feelings about her might well be that of any other Navy commander.

It was about this time that Darla arrived at the spaceport. Though things were quieting down, many of the crew already aboard their ships, there was still a merry circus of well-wishers and others basking in long goodbyes. Several ships' bands still played happy, marshaling tunes as the new major opened the door of her carriage, stepping down onto the tarmac near Shikkeron. A light breeze carried the sweetness of summer freshness as an early evening glow lit up the graying sky in dazzling red brilliance.

A familiar voice called out to the woman as she started for Shikkeron's belly ramp. Looking up, Darla saw Mihai's smiling face as she waved her salutations. Beside and behind her were several of Mihai's officers of the court including Terey and Anna. General Planetee stood off to the side with Darla's three staff officers, a certain Leftenant IlanitAnthos, Master Sergeant SaraiTeknion as well as Leftenant ArdonAzubahKenath.

Mihai eagerly stepped forward, arms spread wide. Hugging Darla, she extolled her love for the woman, wishing her a safe journey and quick return. Though acting kingly, Mihai could little help but reveal her private trepidation over sending her little sister into the distant wilds, knowing that Asotos would surely be searching for the woman.

Holding Darla's upper arms, Mihai admonished, "Now... now you take care of yourself, promise? Don't be taking any unnecessary chances or going off to chase down those evil miscreants on your own! Remember that your duties are to reconnoiter with your Marine units stationed about the colonies and to do a little patrolling. No heroics, hear? Just out and back in a month or so, promise?"

Darla grinned like a child being lectured by an overly protective mother, making a hushed reply. "As you wish... no heroics." She kissed Mihai. "I'll be home as soon as may be. Besides, with all these eyes watching me, how can your little girl get into too much trouble anyway?" She shot an anxious glance toward Ardon.

Mihai squinted, staring into an impish face attempting to appear so innocent. "Don't toy with me! You have a way of making things happen even when eyes are watching." She pleaded, "Listen please, do be careful...for me..."

Darla stared silently into Mihai's eyes. Both women knew the real dangers existing out in deep space. Even without the possible direct threat to Darla, there were the Stasis Pirates and other enemy agents haunting those distant worlds. Then there was the chance of mechanical failure, a growing problem faced by an aging, under-maintained fleet. Shikkeron was old, and even with its upgrade from brigantine to imperial brigantine, it was still well overdue for a serious refit. Danger always lurked out in the blackness of space.

Darla finally broke her silence. "I promise to do my very, very best to stay safe. I don't want to be made into some laboratory specimen for the Evil Worm! I'll keep my wits about me, and I have Ardon to protect me if need be." She grimaced.

Terey interrupted the two, stepping up beside Mihai, reaching out, taking Darla's hand, congratulating Darla on her promotion. Darla pulled Terey close in an affectionate hug, crooning, "Back from the grave you are, back from the grave! They had told me you were arrived at Palace City, but I could not believe the good news, wishing so much to see you before leaving on this cruise!"

Terey thanked Darla for her kindness, explaining, "The surgeons say that I'll be up and about, as fit as a fiddle in a week or so." She cast a long glance down at a still bandaged hand. I feel it may be the 'or so' before I'm mended completely," then breaking into a grin, shared, "I have been informed that my 17 was discovered undamaged. It will soon be delivered here, to Palace City, until I can find another ship's bay to harbor it in."

Mihai began to politely fuss, declaring Terey's need to remain in Palace City to assist her on the council and take a little more time mending. Terey laughed, pointing at Mihai while speaking to Darla, "Fussy mother here takes all the fun out it...you know, the danger and excitement of it all."

Darla smiled, silently nodding her agreement. Mihai was little pleased, seeing no humor in the thought of her dear companions being injured or worse, still... Terey stepped up to Darla, holding two jade ear pins, replacing Darla's with hers. When finished, she kissed the woman softly on the lips.

Looking into Darla's eyes, she cooed, "My soul will journey on in peace now that it has listened one more time to the beating heart of the one it loves. May the hour soon arrive when we shall not have to part the golden fields of the Crescent Moons..."

Crescent Moons were flowers that chose no special season to blossom, even braving the winter snows to cast their radiant glory toward the sky. They had become symbolic of the hope held in the children's hearts that soon the world would be at peace again and all things would be as they had been before.

Darla leaned forward, thanking Terey for her gift and returning her kiss, though with more than a little suggestive desire carried upon it. Terey nearly blushed, the flirt unexpected, but teasingly accepted.

Before she could make reply, Anna had stepped up close, whispering her endearing hellos. She, too, kissed Darla on the lips, sliding her tongue in between the woman's teeth, teasing an unexpected mouth in sensuous ways. Darla's eyes popped open, wide with surprise as her heart began to race with hopeful longing and her head spun with lustful craving.

Opening her eyes to see Darla's stare, Anna paused. She could feel the woman's passionate inclination growing in shaking limbs. Releasing her witching spell, she smiled sensually, speaking softly in Darla's ear, "Oh the shame we have not shared our hearts before this day. Please, my darling sister, make your return swiftly so that my soul may not languish in desires unfulfilled."

Anna pulled from her blouse a necklace of chrysolite and priceless gems, securing it about Darla's neck. "There," she crooned, "wear this token of my love until we can consummate it properly after your return."

Catching her breath, Darla reached up, clasping the giant diamond hanging upon the necklace. Anna tenderly placed a hand over hers. "My love, the swallow must fly so far away to seek its home beside the foaming sea. One day our hearts must bind together in the refuge both so longingly seek. You and I must draw upon each other's strength in such dark hours as this."

Darla dumbly nodded, unable to speak. Softly patting Darla's pounding heart, Anna blushed poetic. "Should my love send sweet letters of endearment to me, then I shall not pine in the evening darkness. Oh, lovely one, so will my heart sing joyous songs, knowing your passion still burns bright for me."

Darla stammered, breathless, the ache for passion unfulfilled tearing through her body, "I... I will... I promise... I promise."

Anna grinned, "Remember me by this token I've given my lovely one. May it be the guiding light that will deliver you home." She turned, extending a hand. "By approval of our new king, I have made arrangements to have my personal attaché, Leftenant IlanitAnthos, accompany you as one of your staff officers." She leaned close, whispering in Darla's ear, "her dreams shared will remind you of the one awaiting your arms. Good she is, so gentle and caring."

She kissed Darla again, this time less amorously, then staring into Darla's face, mused, "You are oh so beautiful! Who among men would not find you most desirable...most desirable?" Stepping back, Anna offered her parting salutations. "Keep safe, and may your journey bring you to the one who desires you so."

Mihai came forward, taking Darla's hands just as Shikkeron's band struck up 'Farewell to All My Heart' the Navy's version of Taps. "Well, I guess this means you must be going," Mihai shrugged, resigned.

Darla kissed Mihai, reassuring her, "Only for a moment...only for a moment, and then we shall be together again."

Everyone said their parting goodbyes, Planetee finally directing Darla over to her staff officers. As the others boarded their coaches, Darla made acquaintance with them. Ardon was filled with trepidation, fearing the reception he was soon to receive, but no, Darla acted the fine commander, greeting each person with equal cordiality and respect.

After proper introductions, Darla stepped back, addressing her staff. "This tour should be a rather mundane affair such as peacetime escort and patrol duty offers. Nevertheless, my expectations are high. We are the watchers, the guardians protecting those aboard this ship and the Trizentine's many colonies. It is your duty to keep this vessel safe and its passengers secure. You are to familiarize yourselves with every part of Shikkeron. Find out whatever you can about its mechanics and defense systems, come to know its crew, their strengths and weaknesses, the ship's strengths and weaknesses. A good officer is a knowledgeable officer. Delve into the books if need be, to learn all that you may."

She lifted a hand, shaking a finger, "Remember, should I send you on an assignment, it is as if I went, myself. My voice becomes your voice, my authority becomes your authority. So gain an understanding of your commander, how I think, how I execute my decisions. When you carry out my orders, act as though I were there with you."

Shaking hands with each of the staff officers, she issued her final commands before dismissing them. "Make time this evening to acquaint yourselves with your fellow officers and enlistees. You are joining a family, a cadre. We are officers when need be, companions the remainder of the time. Leftenant IlanitAnthos and Master Sergeant SaraiTeknion shall share cabin four, C deck, and Leftenant Ardon is to room with Captain KristinaDulamay, Shikkeron's senior Marine officer, cabin twelve, B deck."

As the staff officers hurried away with their duffle bags, Ardon could not help but wonder, puzzled. He had expected nothing less than a sound verbal beating, and possibly a physical pummeling, but no, Darla had treated him the same as her other staff officers. He shuddered, thinking that her attacks might come later when no one was around. Or possibly this Captain Kristina was to do her dirty work for her. With that trepidation flooding his mind, he timidly made his way aboard Shikkeron in search of his new accommodations.

From a distant tower, two emerald-green eyes stared off toward the spaceport. A distraught person mourned, "I have sent my child to her doom, bringing to ruin everything she holds dear! Will she ever be able to forgive me?"

A fleeting hand brushed its shadowy fingers across the person's back, a haunting voice answering reassuringly, "You had no other choice - that you have long known. No more can you put off her hour of destiny. Cast her to the wolves you must. In death there comes renewed life and for this child a chance to live free of her demons within."

"But at such a terrible cost!" the first person moaned.

The whispering voice softly replied, "My ZoeStethos, you can return life to a broken soul, but the heart must mend itself. This child must find her own cure for her madness within. You have only set the stage. Let us hope the actors play their parts well, and then you shall have success."

Zoe bowed her head, weeping, "I do so hope my child will understand that there is no other way, not now, not at this late hour! To save this child, I must preserve Hell. To preserve Hell, I must burn Heaven. Hell must then run its course to the finish so that Heaven may be reborn. Oh, the dread of it all..."

* * *

A warm morning breeze drifted through the windows, catching up the curtains like billowy, flowered clouds. It swept across the room, exciting tiny hairs on naked flesh, waking sleepy eyes that slowly fluttered open to stare into a placid face still caught up in a world of dreamless slumber. For seemingly endless moments, those eyes studied this sublime creature, while her ears listened to the hypnotic rhythm of musical repose.

Chasileah slowly rolled back on her side, resting her weight on an elbow. She allowed her gaze to drift back and forth across the body sleeping beside her. How beautiful - mesmerizingly beautiful! And to think she had passed the night entwined in rapturous love with this person. She reached over and began playing her golden brown fingers upon the shimmering, olive-colored skin of her companion.

A sighing moan drifted from the person's lips, and then came the returning of deep, restful sleep. Chasileah softly cooed in just above a whisper, "Sweet Elaia... my sweet Elaia, your teasing promise to me was but a shadow of the dreams from love's passion that you have delivered to me. I can now go to my ever rest in peace, having witnessed the World of the Immortals through your tender caresses and gentle kisses."

How long Chasileah lingered there, she did not know. Trisha did not wake, her sleep deep and peaceful. As the morning sun warmed her back and a sultry breeze played across her skin, Chasileah pondered the hour.

Today she and the field marshal were to take a shuttle to Oros Army Headquarters. As time permitted, they would see how secret preparations for the MueoPoros invasion were coming along, and then visit the training facilities in the Oros High Desert, if time permitted - something the field marshal liked doing on a regular basis.

Then there were the endless meetings they would be attending. Staff command was truly different from being in the field. As Zadar often lamented, 'Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and then blah, blah, blah, and then more paperwork.'

She chuckled. Zadar was a fine fellow, kind, courteous, and oh so polite, and his humor was contagious, but he had a serious side that one could not ignore. Yes, it felt good to have him on the team.

Then there was Jonathan. He was kind and polite almost to a fault, especially with her. She could see in his eyes a growing endearment - not sensual yet even more alluring, something she had not noticed in other men. He was rather bashful, too, but not so much to avoid feigning excuse to be near her. She smiled. How long could she play her tease-game of impassive seduction before her heart was also caught up in it? Then she wondered who was really seducing whom? Jonathan was already getting inside her head, her waking thoughts, even now while sharing the bed of a goddess divine.

Shaking those visions from her mind, Chasileah snuggled close, resting her head on Trisha's breasts while wrapping an arm tightly about the woman. The sun felt comforting, the breeze tingly warm, and the city sounds far below the tower distant and muffled. In little more than a breath or two, she was sound asleep, dreamily lost in a world where two hearts softly beat in a symphony as though only one.

* * *

"You shiver." Treston spoke with concern as he wrapped his officer's cloak around Sirion's shoulders. "Saying that you are fine does not make it so. Why push yourself so hard when even the surgeons suggest a little more bed rest would do you good?"

Sirion pulled the cloak tight as she fussed over the motherly treatment. "I'm fine... a little tired, maybe, and yes, my knees are a bit shaky after this long walk, but I'm fine. The exercise is doing me good."

She squeezed Treston's hand, smiling her appreciation. "Your bringing me here has lifted my spirits so."

Treston's worry refused to retreat. "Still, you must be careful not to catch your death of cold. You're barely back on your feet and being about. It's still dangerous for someone in your condition to stress oneself. My wife succumbed to the fever in weather little different from this."

Sirion stopped, eyeing Treston. "My dear man, remember where you are. You fared little better than your wife in that hopeless world of yours... just were forced to live a bit longer in it. I'm a witch... true, not with powers equal to many, but a witch, nonetheless. I am from these Upper Worlds, born of Mother's blood and sired by Whispering Shadows, or so go the fables taught by the Ancients such as PalaHar."

She looked down at her fingers, recalling their tortured crushing and mutilation. "How quickly we children of this world mend! Your kind often languished a lifetime with the scars from war and injury. We – I and my kind bounce back quickly, though it may take a while with certain damage." She pointed at an eye that shimmered ghostly grey in early evening light. "Yet one day it will heal completely."

Taking Treston's hand, Sirion continued their journey through the Silent Tombs. "Do not forget how ancient I am in the eyes of your kind. Born I was before the strife of the Third Age, I witnessing the downfall of both our worlds. More damaged in body I have been than by the tortures of Legion and his madmen. To the point of death, my shattered body has been carried from the horrid field on more than one occasion, my face blown away once when my fighter exploded around me, my arms torn from my body at MegLaMore while holding the fortress gate, and my innards cleaved at Memphis, just to name a few of my more serious injuries."

She shook her head in contemplation. "The children of this world are made of tough stuff! Hard to break, we are. We weren't designed to get sick or stay hurt, the same as your Adam had been before he rebelled."

Sirion looked up at the countless graves and monuments surrounding them, answering a question not asked. "Oh yes, we die - by the millions we have - but countless more have lived. Some of our veterans have suffered mutilation, torture, and defilement countless times, and still they return to the bloodied field. Indeed, I think few of the old guard in the ranks have not suffered major injury and on numerous occasions, even our king, Mihai, Gabrielle, Zadar, and... and so many others."

Sirion wheezed. Treston took her arm. "Well, my valiant knightress, may I suggest you save your words for the songs you wish to sing, and I, your faithful squire, shall assist you with your quest."

The woman was not amused. "I do not stubbornly pretend power when help is..." She coughed, bringing up some bloodied mucus. Quietly nodding, she leaned on Treston's arm for support.

The two slowly trudged pathways long become familiar to Treston since Sirion's captivity. He carefully led Sirion along the darkening trails as the sun faded into evening shadows. Each time they came to a chosen grave, Sirion would repeat her little ritual, singing to lost love before carefully placing some flowers on the grave's earthen mound.

Late evening found Treston and Sirion down in the deep draw, with Sirion singing her songs of lament to Periste. When finished, she stood, placing some of the flowers remaining upon the grave. Treston asked, curious, "Are we not at the end? Yet more flowers you carry in your hand..."

Sirion looked over at him, moonlight reflecting off tears welling up in her eyes. "No, not tonight. Somewhere else I must go, but I fear my strength is waning. Will you assist me, my valiant and loyal squire?"

After making their way back up the draw past the bubbling brook, the two turned toward the west, past the memorial wall and on toward the nearing orchards. At length, they came to several freshly dug graves. There, in the golden glow of a waxing moon, Treston read a hastily placed, engraved plaque fastened upon a rough-hewn, oaken beam:

' _For the brave and valiant few_

Who suffered the will of our foe

To guarantee our security and freedom.

To our fallen heroes of the Zephath...'

Sirion slowly sat down between two of the new graves, her fingers caressing the damp, bare mounds. She looked up at Treston, tears streaming down her face. "These are my brothers and sisters. I loved each of them as I have loved you. I watched each of them die...one at a time... one at a time."

With shaky hands, she placed some of her flowers on the mounds, attempting to sing sweet night songs to them in remembrance. After the longest silence, the girl cried, "Oh my! Oh my!" then began to sob, "I have no songs left to sing, no willpower in my soul or music in my heart to make melody to lost companions!"

Looking toward the sky, Sirion began to wail, "Why does the urchin child live when the brave and valiant wither about me? Give me rest! Oh, God, please give your wicked little child rest! Let me die the death of the unforgiven, for unforgiven I should be. Let me hide in forgotten lands, to ever rest in forgotten dreams."

Flinging her arms high, Sirion screamed out to the stars, beseeching them, "You have made a road impossible to travel, a journey my mortal strength cannot withstand. Please, take this cup of torment away from me! Let me die!"

Treston caught the girl up as she collapsed in his arms. She looked into his face, whimpering, "I'm afraid, so afraid. Hold me please, for I fear your Kriggerman, yet long for his deathly touch. What do I do? What do I do?"

Holding Sirion close, he gently rocked her back and forth. "My world had many gods and lords, but one in particular I find even haunts yours. My mother sang of it when I was but a little lad. Would you like me to sing her song to you?"

Sirion smiled, saying she would. Snuggling her head in Treston's arms, she closed her eyes.

Treston cleared his voice, offering his apologies for not being a polished songster.

" _Listen, my little child, and here me sing_

A love song for only your ears.

Winter winds howl and darkness creeps close,

But the hearth-fire makes it cozy in here.

A man went a walking to the song of a bird.

He wandered far and lost sight of his home.

He fell into danger from a trove of old trolls

Who tried to frighten him clear to his bones.

" _Let's smash him then cook him and eat him up clean,"_

Cried the monsters, as they drew out their knives.

" _Do be careful, my good fellows," grinned the toothy young man,_

" _If you're smart and truly value your lives."_

They all laughed and moved forward, holding blades high in hand.

But fear soon replaced the mirth in their eyes.

For the man grew in stature 'til almost touching the clouds.

He laughed, "I am the Lord of Distress in disguise!"

And the trove of old trolls cowered, all frozen in place,

' _Til the last one down the man's gullet did slide._

For the fear of distress is a most crippling foe.

Even monsters must by it abide.

So, my child, please listen and learn from my word,

From the Lord of Distress do not quail.

When you see him out walking to the song of a bird,

Keep your distance from him and prevail."

Thrice more Treston sang the verses of the little ditty given him so long ago. Each time the lyrics, 'From the Lord of Distress do not quail' were sung, Sirion nestled further into Treston's arms until, finally, after he completed the tune the last time, she had fallen fast asleep.

It was a long, arduous walk back to the motor coach for Treston, what with his desire not to wake Sirion. The woman was rather small in stature and underweight from her previous ordeal to boot. Even so, a half league on darkened pathways did make a difficult journey for the man. He was greatly relieved to see that his companion remained fast asleep after he lay her down in the rear seat of the machine.

For the longest time Treston stood there, staring down at his charge, pondering this world and its people, his own life past and present, and what the future might hold. Who were these creatures, anyway? Fearless, resolute, and formidable, ruthless in combat and passionately gentle in love, having bravery bordering on madness while harboring the insecurity of a forlorn child. What were they about?

No better example of this kind was there than Sirion - tough as nails yet as soft and gentle as a mother's touch, willing to die for her kindred but unable to live for herself, able to look beyond the straw-man and see Treston as some noble savior while castigating herself for secret failures. Yet, somehow, through all the strife and tribulation she, like Lowenah's other children, had held it together, brought things to a finish, at least within sight of the finish. And now he, this miserable straw-man, was risen up and gifted to be part of this great host that was about to change history.

As he considered these things, Treston could not help but think of Lowenah, how the Maker of Worlds had suffered, fighting the Rebellion without and her own demons within. Yes, he had seen it at the Council of Eighty and at other times. Self-deprecating she could be, but always springing back, taking the lead and building up her children when no hope remained in them. He smiled to think he had been allowed to join this mad, wild circus of poets, dreamers and clowns.

Treston looked away toward the eastern heavens, his eyes searching far across the universe as he called out defiantly to the Wicked Host, _"Fallen man of stone and dust, where hath your powers delivered you this day? Look and see, and become afraid. Watch your cities burn and your worlds dissolve to nothing! We come...the ghost hunters from Avaddohn's Abyss, avenging our blood, hungering to devour your soul! Do not tempt our path, for the Dragonslayers shall give you no quarter!"_

He angrily shook his fist toward the sky. " _Phoenix burns and all men, good and evil, with it!"_

* * *
