The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix

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The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix Page 8

by Ava D. Dohn


  *

  The late afternoon sun found Hanna and Symeon making their way along the narrow street that led toward the rail-stage 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! My girl’s come back to me!”

  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 escaping 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 on 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 the man in the face. “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 this way to take me to other places. Instead we shall both 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.”

  The coach soon arrived and was shortly departed 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 those two men to help welcome its arrival.

 

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