The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix

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The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix Page 52

by Ava D. Dohn


  * * *

  Drorli hurried down the 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 tingled his senses as he sucked in a breath. “What deviltry did you deliver upon us this day? Awfullist stink I’ve smelt in the longest time!”

  Jebbson bent forward and pushed a lever near the steering wheel. The machine grudgingly wheezed its 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 cockpit, 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 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 autos. “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 of them and I’ll stop production on these contraptions of mine tomorrow.”

  Drorli agreed, acknowledging Jebbson’s remarks, grinning. “I don’t believe even God 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 mistress 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, piping 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, to 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 of feeling.”

  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 I about in this delivery business. It’s been awhile since we 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 panderings with another woman, and Hanna watching from the nearby porch. Did he 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 both turned their attention to their protagonist as Eurawah 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 Eurawah’s intoxicating refrains and sensual touch. How could this be? He loved Hanna so much, more than life, but this woman, Eurawah, 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 Eurawah for her kindness. He then asked again, this time more politely, “Shouldn’t we be about 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 off 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 were arrived, bringing up 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 the 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 and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “My friend, I would not cause you such anguish as you currently feel if it was 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 represent the authority absolute for 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 machine. 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 hart calling out her love to the sky.”

  Chasileah stopped, calling back, “And will also the wolf grow hungry tonight for the songs the lonely hart cries out upon the breeze? I do hope so...”

  Drorli laughed. “Be careful the feral beast, for its hunger ever grows at 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 wood, coming in from the west. Chasileah and her crew were taking the road out of the village, north and around about to the south and come in to the forest from the east, hoping to persuade Ishtar to head back toward the village.

  A shout from the building stopped the others up. 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 to go 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 had a hearty laugh as Jebbson did a dance, pirouetting about as he sung a little 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.

 

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