The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (20 page)

Jonathan’s face flushed red, remembering
once, some time ago, shortly after his arrival to this world, one
time when Lowenah had been in a playful, flirting mood, he had
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 that it 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 dreams of the men of his worlds.
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 the 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 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
sensually attracted to her -which he, though, 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, she 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 the 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. 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 millennium, 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 faster
a 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
burnished golden head and breastplates. 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, she appearing more to be a
performer in the circus than someone going to a prisoner
exchange.

(Author’s note:
What Jonathan did not
know was Lowenah’s insistence on the garb Darla was attired in.
Darla 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 his unbridled thoughts. 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
me, yes! 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, the 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 to 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. 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
sputtered, interrupting, “Oh you! You’re hopeless! But I do look
for you to be respectful.”