* * *
Darla’s embarrassment had quickly turned to anger nearing that of rage, but she was a good girl, never allowing her inner feelings to betray her to others. She quietly slipped from the auditorium into the night shadows. Euroaquilo had not at first noticed her leaving, but there was little he could have done at that moment anyway. Finally, after finishing business with Ma-we, he bid his adieus and hurried away to search for his girl.
There was a place where Darla would sometimes go when the dark mood took her. It was quiet and out of the way, a place where the world did not intrude, where she could be alone with her feelings. Euroaquilo was taken there once when Darla was still a maiden, she showing him her secret garden, her private place. He believed she might well be sequestered there at this moment, an ancient garden about two furlongs northwest of the old palace…at least that was what it was at the time. Mulberry trees, holly, mistletoe and thorny rose vines dominated the ruins of what the Ancients called a ‘Cherub’s Chatue’ or ‘Gate’, its blue-green, iridescent stones charred and burnt as if by some molten blast, along with the remains of a northern wall, now overgrown with black lichens and hoary ivy. Upon its inner face were the rune letters that, when translated in the ancient tongue, read, ‘Druid Zodiak Doract Tosommia’ meaning ‘So shall come to all sorcerers who apostatize’.
It was a gloomy place, said to have fallen to ruin during the day of quaking, the night the burning of the Great Star, Lagandow, first appeared in the evening sky above Palace City. Few children visited the garden, it being so foreboding and ominous. PalaHar once wrote of it, ‘It reminds one of living death. Even animals avoid the place. Never does the sun reach through the gloom of the upper foliage. And when you stand in the desolate center circle, there comes upon your heart a feeling of unwelcome. Few can tolerate more than fleeting moments in that dismal garden.’
Struggling his way through the thicket of thorns and twisted vines, Euroaquilo finally reached the edge of the inner circle of this most dismal of places. Darkness was pushed aside here by an eerie glow that radiated out from the charred ruins and up through the lifeless soil. Searching the green gloom, his eyes focused on a lone figure, slowly pacing back and forth, wrapped in its own arms, mumbling curses and oaths.
Darla was in an abnormally foul mood, so deep in vindictive thought she had not noticed Euroaquilo’s arrival. The man slowly backed away from the clearing, shaking his head sadly. This was no time to intrude upon the woman, not this way. He quietly made his way from the garden and sat at the curb of the lonely, narrow street that wound its way past, pondering what to do next. He decided to give the girl some time. A few minutes, a half hour maybe, and she just might be willing to accept a little company. Maybe...
Ardon’s actions were totally inappropriate this last eve, but so was that of the entire Council. And what of him? Had he not done more than stand once in the girl’s defense? Had he bellowed out in his commander’s voice her innocence, might things have ended differently? All were guilty of inaction. Only Terey and Planetee and that fellow from the Second Realm… yes, that Jebbson Garlock fellow…they, alone, other than Mother, had stood the storm of protest with vigor and determination, defending Darla to the end.
Still, Euroaquilo was not head of the Council, only an invited member. There had been protocol to follow. Ardon was placed in charge after the new field marshal departed. He clenched his fists in frustration, angrily shaking his head. Protocol would never buy his silence again!
When he hoped sufficient time had passed, Euroaquilo made his way into the thicket, stomping and crashing his way while calling out Darla’s name. As he burst out of the twisted, jungle-like tangle of foliage, he looked up to see the girl frozen in place, angry eyes staring in his direction. The woman did not run. It was not her nature. Had the person arriving been unwanted company, even Ardon, she would have quietly dismissed herself and slid away into the darkness. That was Darla’s style.
But this was Euroaquilo. Even if she had wanted to flee, it would have been impossible. Euroaquilo was her mentor, her god, the man who gave her life and breath. He was her reason for living when others around her were surrendering to the evil of the moment. Through glazed eyes, she stared at the man she so loved, pressure of hidden tears pushing at her eyes until it felt as though they would explode. She refused to cry. No…nor run to the arms she so wanted to encircle her. The pain was too great for that now. Not now… The furnace of wrath building in her chest was still heating up, waiting to be unleashed in all its fury.
Euroaquilo smiled innocently. “Oh, there you are! I have been searching everywhere. Now that business is finished, I’d hoped we could enjoy some private time…you know, go do something together, just the two of us.”
Cross-armed, Darla stood erect with both feet planted like pillars rooted in granite. Other than a quiver in her upper lip and puffy, red, tormented eyes, the woman refused to surrender up the roiling emotion torturing her. She was lord of her destiny! No power in this or the Realms Below could force the woman to act against her iron will. She, the child of a hundred wars, standing countless battle lines when others around her fled…she, the maiden of secret terrors, refused to give up this moment, this victory over mindless fools, to her own lack of control.
Sadness swept over Euroaquilo, watching Darla struggle for mastery of her inner self. What strength and majesty and power of will! Who among all of Lowenah’s children was of greater constitution than this woman, who more perfect in discipline and might? This was no unstable, unpredictable woman of fragile spirit who would put the success of the coming Prisoner Exchange at risk. Now, more than ever, Euroaquilo wished he had spoken with greater boldness in Darla’s defense at the Council meeting.
The woman was dangerous to herself, though. Euroaquilo knew this child well, but what of the depth of her inner strength? There were limits to one’s ability to subdue emotional stress. He had seen it all too often on the field of battle. A person’s sword might well succeed in bringing to ruin its enemy, only for their mind to shatter when the moment of rest arrived. To this day, he paid visits upon close companions who had not yet regained control of their minds, they residing in the shadow-worlds of random dreams and frightening visions.
Darla was truly stressed to the limit, more so than he had seen in recent memory, the Council’s uncalled for verbal abuses having been severely cruel to her. Euroaquilo must play this carefully or his girl might just snap. Few any longer held her trust. Did he? The man frowned, sighing, deciding to face the beast head on. After all, that was his nature. Isn’t that how he acquired his name in the first place?
He extended his hands, softly speaking so apologetically, “My DusmeAstron, my heart yearns for your approval. Have I caused you harm this night? Have my actions damaged your tender heart?”
Darla cast her gaze toward the ground, two giant teardrops falling into the shadows. ‘DusmeAstron’, Euroaquilo’s name given to her the day he took the child for his own…’Western Star’, ‘Sunset Star’, he had said it was so fitting that she carry the name of the last daughter of the night, the brightest star after the setting of the sun, it bringing hope of a night filled with light and promise.
“Please, my Lord, do not kill your servant girl with fair speech.”
Euroaquilo began again. “My DusmeAstron…”
Darla spun around, hiding her face as a sob escaped her. “Please, my Lord, do not kill your daughter with your words!”
“Should I die instead of you!” Euroaquilo blurted out, his voice strained to cracking. He stepped forward, arms outstretched, pleading, “You and I are children of but one blood. We are one, you and I. Will not my heart bleed if yours is wounded? If you are sad, will I not cry? My heart weeps over the widowhood of my beloved sister. Please! Please! Allow your own flesh to weep in anguish over your loss.”
Darla slumped as quiet sobs increased, having surrendered for the moment any
control over them. “My Lord… please… My Lord… please don’t…”
In a heartbeat, Euroaquilo was standing behind Darla, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He could feel convulsive energy coursing through the woman’s body, the wound upon her heart intense as he heralded his regrets in her ear. “My darling, had I known the agony this passing eve was to heap upon you, I would have stood the line to the death in your defense!”
Pulling away and spinning around, Darla stared at Euroaquilo, her teary eyes glaring their anger. No longer could the woman contain her fiery rebukes, unleashing them with full fury. “Damn their worthless skins! All of them! Ardon…! Damn his no good hide! Old bag of shit! Windy shit, useless dung heap!”
She nearly choked, taking a breath. “I have drenched my sword in the blood of all living souls to preserve their asses while they romance diplomatic behind the safety of distant walls! I have stood the line while the bravest and noblest of my kindred fled, pissing in fright from nearing death, my own flesh standing as a shield of safety for them!”
Shaking a fist in anger, she cried, “Four times I have lain in my own blood while my spirit sought escape! I have crawled miles in the filth with ruined legs, dragging my sister’s corpse so the enemy could not desecrate her temple! Through the ravages of famine, fire, fear and fury, I have carried out my sacred duties in order to bring this goddamned Rebellion to a finish, a rebellion I share no responsibility for starting! What goddamned right do all those miserable ingrates have in declaring who is sane and fit?!”
Euroaquilo sadly nodded his head.
Darla was not finished. In anguish, she cried, “My sword has consigned hundreds of souls to the fires of Hell! Do they think my heart doesn’t weep over such murder?!”
Turning away, she put her hands to her face and sobbed, “Never have I requested one thing for myself from any of those bastards, not even a straw pillow for my head! Their council I do not seek; my opinions I keep to myself. Did I intrude tonight, placing my name high up above the others? My soul sought escape from this night. But no! The Lord of Lords commanded my appearance there, and then it was by request of the new king that I acted the part of consort, escaping to the shadows when possible.”
She shook her head. “Many are those who, not by design but by fate or circumstance, have received greater glory and rank. Never once did I complain unless it was one of my brothers who deserved the recognition… and rarely was that even delivered. At Avery, my troop of less than thirty held a force of four hundred at bay for six hours, preventing our flank from being overrun. All but six I left behind on the frozen sands, digging their shallow graves myself with bare, bloody fingers. Who of those so wise and noble reflected upon the sacrifices made to stay the line that day? Not even a note placed in the official records for such gallant valor could I get them to write!”
Turning to look in Euroaquilo’s face, Darla lamented, “What of me? ‘Oh my! We must be so careful, mustn’t we? She’s cracked, you know, unstable, unpredictable. She may say something wrong and offend the Great Serpent…’ Wicked WastePipe! Lord of the dung heap and the flies! ‘Oh! We must be so careful to not upset him! Ardon must stay close to the brattling for fear she will put others at risk!’ That… that, my Lord, is my reward for countless years of sacrifice and bravery!”
Darla rested weary hands on Euroaquilo’s upper arms. She was exhausted, but the fires of distress were not yet extinguished. There was another storm building, hopefully the last, but he could not tell. “My dear Dusme…”
Darla stepped back, livid with rage. “Where were those great leaders when we lay in the ruins of Mordem, huddling in desperation to warm the dying as the winter winds screamed and bombs burst all around?!”
Tears finally gushed forth. Like a mother filled with grief, she wailed, “I should have perished on our day of lost valor at Memphis! As least I would have fallen with those who were real heroes. Jared died, pierced through by a lance, pulling my broken body from the charging, horned beasts. Tifara, my dearest companion, was torn asunder as she shielded me from a rogue missile, my leg being nearly severed at the knee when it exploded. Our reward for holding that gap on that day of infamy was seventy slaughtered companions and an ever-aching injury that hasn’t healed completely down to this day. And not one goddamned ‘thank you’ for all our suffering…!”
The color had drained from Darla’s face, her energy quickly waning. She stared up and into Euroaquilo’s eyes, searching…searching. Falling onto his chest, fingers clutching at his shirt, distraught, she cried, “What good is my life?! If I should die tomorrow, will I be remembered only as the woman whose mind is demon-bent?!” She buried her face on his shoulder and wept.
Euroaquilo embraced his child in burly arms. He could hear her labored breathing as tears sapped what little strength remained. A moan came from the woman’s lips, indicating a powerful headache was brewing. Soon Darla’s knees began to buckle, no longer having the ability to sustain their load.
Mustering the last of her energy, Darla looked into Euroaquilo’s face, whimpering, “I have tried to be a good child… so hard I’ve tried. You do believe me… don’t you? Don’t…”
Darla collapsed, fainted maybe, Euroaquilo catching her up in his arms before she fell. Carrying her to a grassy corner of the garden under a mulberry tree before laying the girl down and sitting beside her, he looked around at the things the eerie light revealed to his eyes, finally studying the runes in the broken wall. Funny, he had avoided this place like all the other children did, but now he wondered why. There was a quiet comfort hidden here. It wasn’t foreboding…it felt secure. That was it, restful and secure, like none of the evil in the universe could penetrate the opaque jungle surrounding this private world. It was a safe place.
At least that was how it seemed to be for Darla. Already she was fast asleep, her breathing deep and peaceful. There appeared to be a force of some kind watching over the girl. Euroaquilo could feel it, too. She would rest comfortably tonight, nestled in this thorny fortress. No bad dreams would invade her mind. The mysterious forces of this place would see to that.
Euroaquilo began a little song, attempting to force his rather loud, bass voice to sing in a hush. At length, the merry tune - one he had so often sung to his lady when she was still a maiden in the palace - came to a finish. He looked up to see a glow in the eastern sky, knowing a new day was quickly approaching. Well, what the hurry? No one would think to search here for him and… and his duties could wait a little while.
He lay down beside Darla, whispering in her ear:
“May the Star of the West sail on to worlds trouble-free.
There is not another like you,
nor will there ever be.
You have taught us how to live in the shadows of death,
and to die while finding treasures of life.
Teach us,
No…teach me your ways so that I, too,
may become wise like you.
Be patient, be patient with us and allow us,
please, to also grow up.
You are not forgotten and unloved,
never will be,
never will…”
A mist arose from the fading light, smothering Euroaquilo in a drowsy embrace. His head fell, resting against Darla’s shoulder. There they remained, long into the following evening, the ever-shade of this protective jungle hiding them from all the sights and sounds of the busy world of Palace City.