“This way, sir.”
The serving girl’s voice was tremulous as she led the man into a great banquet hall with high ceilings.
What illumination there was came from ensconced torches, but the fires seemed subdued, intimidated, as they made a futile attempt to eradicate the shadows pulsing in their wavering light.
On the dais were the thrones, and on the thrones were the dead king and queen, bedecked in their finest, cold as the fires were hot, and dead as the silence that permeated the place.
Their mouths and eyes were blood filled, their mouths in rictuses, as if they’d just eaten raw lemons.
Overall, the effect was one of scary clowns.
Their crowns reflected amber flares from the torch fires.
As they entered, the serving girl began to cry anew, and turned and ran, leaving the stranger alone to contemplate the bizarre tableau before him.
He looked at them a long moment, and was about to step closer, when to his right, two people entered and stepped up onto the dais.
A boy, and a girl, both finely bedecked as well.
They stopped before the dead couple, and bent to look at their faces.
Reaching out their hands, they touched the wrists to search for signs of life that long departed.
Satisfied there were none, the girl straightened first, and saw him, and touched the boy on the shoulder; he still preoccupied with the king’s face, straightened at her touch and saw her pointing.
They both looked at him with calm curiosity, as if he had a familiar face but they’d forgotten his name.
“Who are you,” the boy said.
“I am Trace.”
“What do you want here, Trace?” the girl asked.
“I’ve come to see who killed the king and queen. Are you their children?”
“We are,” said the boy.
“You don’t seem to be grieving.”
“We’re not,” said the girl. “They were awful to us.”
“And now you stand to inherit their thrones. Did you kill them for that?”
The boy stepped off the dais, the girl trailing, as they approached him, and stopped some five feet away.
“We have no intention of occupying the thrones of the dead; we’re leaving.”
“For where?”
“None of your concern,” the girl said.
“May I ask your names?”
“You may,” she said, “but we won’t answer you.”
“You’re here to investigate the deaths of our parents, and you don’t know our names?” the boy said.
“This is not my homeland,” Trace said.
The boy looked at the girl, and she nodded. “I don’t suppose there’s harm in it.”
“I am Kihari,” the boy said.
“Anjallay.”
Trace looked past them at the thrones with their occupants.
“I would say it’s a pleasure, but given the circumstances…”
Anjallay looked at them too. “Yes, the circumstances.”
“We’ll leave you to it, Trace. We’ll send the servants in to clean up when you’re done.”
“Where can I find you?”
“We’ll find you,” Kihari said. “Let’s go, Anjallay.”
Anjallay took Kihari’s arm, and turned to smile at Trace as they walked past, and out of the banquet hall.
Trace walked up the dais, walked behind the thrones, placed his right on the king’s, his left on the queen’s, and whispered his spell in the dark.
******************
Everyone was in high spirits; laughter, dancing, drunkenness, gluttony, groping under skirts, rubbing of raised crotches, moans and grunts from dark corners, and over it all, the light hearted music from musicians who large eyes betrayed they were fearful of the chaos around them, but dared not play badly for fear of the king’s displeasure.
A servant girl approached, buxom and golden haired, and the king’s eyes roamed over her as if she were a fertile field, which in his mind, she was.
The queen looked her daggers and ice at him, but he ignored her.
The dark wine shimmered in gleaming crystal glasses, and the queen took hers and poured it over the girl’s head.
The king’s eyes followed the rivulets wine running down into her cleavage.
She blinked, and though her face twitched to blubber, she dared not under the queen’s murderous glare; she curtsied, whispered, “Your majesties,” and quickly walked away.
“That wasn’t necessary, Milal.”
“As was your undressing her with your eyes, my ‘lord.’”
He turned to her, reached for her hand.
“You know it is you, and only you, that I truly love.”
She did not take his, and kept her eyes on the dance floor.
“I grow bored,” she said, and rose to leave, and could not.
Her eyes grew large, as she tried again, and barely managed to lift the folds of her gown.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
“I can’t get up…my legs…Natay, I can’t move my legs…”
Natay went to stand up to call out for an attendant, and found he couldn’t stand either.
“What’s happening?” He looked out over the floor, and the people, obsessed in their festivities, were oblivious.
He went to shout, and his throat seized, as if a giant had him by the throat.
He tried to turn his neck, but could not; from the corner of his eyes, he looked at Milal, and she was convulsing, her fingernails scraping, hands shaking as she trembled.
Her eyes began to bleed, and she went still, her hands going slack, fingers loose, and a pool of blood filled her mouth and bearded her chin, spilling in rivulets down the elegant gown.
Natay’s own eyes were growing dim, but unlike her, he didn’t convulse; a massive jolt of pain hit his chest, as if a giant had stepped on his exposed heart; his eyes and mouth spurted red liquid, and he gurgled and moaned, and his death rattle was loud on his trembling lips, which finally grew still.
*************
A scream ripped through the hall, loud and long and high, and as everyone turned to see the screamer, she pointed at the dais.
At first there was a ripple of laughter, mixed with some confusion, wondering if the royal couple was playing a joke.
An older nobleman called for the physician; he arrived quickly, his bag in his hand.
“You won’t be needing that,” the nobleman said, close to his ear.
The hall was quiet, except for the crackling torch flames.
The physician approached dais, his eyes searching, but his voice fearful, low so only they would hear his reprimand.
“If this is a jest, majesties, it is done in poor taste at the expense of your guests.”
He touched them both, and quickly drew back his hands.
Turning, his face pale, his voice thick with sadness and anger, he said, “Call the guard. The majesties are dead, murdered on their thrones.”
Amid screams and cries, the guards entered and cleared the room; it took a long time, but eventually, the hall was empty except for the physician and the Captain of the Guard.
“What should we do, doctor?”
“I know a man who can help; he’s in the next town. He will come tonight, if paid well. Send a messenger to get him.
“His name is Trace. He is a mage, and he will tell us who did this.”
“The king forbade magic.”
The doctor sighed. “He is not a position to refuse, and beyond wellness, Captain. I seek his murderer,” then he gestured, taking in the queen. “Their murderer.
“Send the messenger.”
The captain nodded, and they walked out together into the hall, where two guards with severe faces, pinched from the fear of things beyond their ability to see or control, kept vigil over the dead.
“And Captain, send him to me when he arrives.”
“I will, doctor.”
They parted in opposite directions.
******************
Trace took his hands off the backs of the thrones.
His palms were crisscrossed with keloidal scars that receded back to smooth flesh even as he looked at them; they always plagued him during a tracing.
The weakness he felt in his legs was dissipating, and he pushed himself away, not having realized he leant against the large, high backing for support.
The blonde serving girl was the only one who’d approached the dais in the time before the poisoning, but the queen did not drink her wine, yet was still struck, and struck first, by whatever spell had killed them.
It was a place to start, and Trace went to inquire of her whereabouts.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
The last of the notes rang out over the plain, a minor note, mournful and haunting, fitting, given the surroundings.
The Aaralyn Sisters, linked through holding hands, their auras overlapping, stopped their singing and pulled their minds back from the focused blast they collectively sent into the midst of the warriors bearing down on their surviving remnant.
In the waning state of their collective trance, they heard the bodies of men and horses falling, weapons clattering and clanging as they fell from the dead soldiers’ hands, or fell to the ground, tossed from too far away.
They heard the cries and gasps, curses and screams, as men, used to the power of their strong arms and cruel methods, fell like slaughtered bulls at a pagan feast before the power carried in the singing voices of women half their size.
In the moments that followed, as if from a dream, they opened their eyes.
Gradually, the effects of so great an incant took its toll: some collapsed, most began crying, some cheered, others embraced.
Singer Krista, the Elder among them, merely looked out over the carnage, and gave a deep sigh.
She had given everything, and in victory, felt as empty and afraid as when they began fighting.
The multi-sided attacks decimated their numbers, and there were things that now needed doing that took her beyond the immediate sense of relief and celebration.
The priests, the wizards, the witches, the sorcerers and sorceresses had all come a-killing, to take the voices, and power of the Aaralyn, because they dared not abuse it to rule the world.
The warriors were the last.
In not fighting, Krista knew now, the Aaralyn made the world think they could not.
They’d just proven the world wrong, though the cost was dear.
The sun was low in the sky, and the clouds were breaking.
In the distance, the birds began to circle.
“Is it finally over, Singer Krista? Do you hear anything?”
The speaker was young, new to them by two years, gifted, but untried, until now.
Krista turned weary eyes to her, and saw the young woman trembling, eyes wide, still fearful, full of nervous energy and adrenaline, but skittish now; the carnage had overwhelmed her resolve.
Had the battle continued, this one would have bolted, or died, but Krista could not hold that against her.
“We are all that remain, Singer Willow.”
Singer Willow embraced Krista tightly, needing something solid to hold onto, physically as well as mentally, and Krista returned the embrace, looking out on the carnage as the girl’s body shivered against hers, her quiet sobs muffled in Krista’s dusty robes.
She cries on me, for she believes me to be strong, but there is no one stronger to comfort me.
I hope the Victory Canticle is completed, or the last thirty years have been for nothing.
***************
By the time they returned to Singers Hall, the snow was falling, and they had just made it in before the storm.
Baths ran long, wine flowed freely, sleep ran deep, and as the days passed, the sick were tended, the wounded bound, the dead buried, and those who needed help to deal with what they’d seen and done received it.
In the weeks that followed, as the snow melted, and the roads were muddy and troublesome, but passable, and the sea more or less temperate, if cold, some packed to return home, renouncing the elite sect of Singers.
Singer Krista bade them farewell, and wished them the best, and released them to their destinies outside of the Aaralyn’s ranks.
It was not a calling for everyone, and those who tried to force themselves to be a part of something that went against their better judgment, went against their own souls, were counseled to voluntarily leave.
They forcibly expelled those who did not take that option, but continued to struggle.
******************
Singer Janis knocked on the door, and Krista bade her enter.
“How are you, Krista?”
“I’m tired, Janis, in more ways than I care to count, but we are here. The Canticle…?”
“It’s finished. I saw it personally, looked it over. We tested the incants, and they didn’t penetrate.”
“And the protection?”
“Made from the finest, by the best in the realm; it will be well protected.”
“I’m pleased.”
Janis turned to go.
“Stay a moment, Janis. I need to talk.”
Janis turned, surprised.
“All right.” She sat.
Krista sat up straighter, folded her hands in her lap.
“I’m disbanding the Aaralyn.”
Janis sighed, shifted in her own seat. “I was wondering…”
“You’re not surprised?”
“Not at all. I even understand why.”
“Why?”
“Our numbers are greatly reduced; we lost a lot of power in those battles. We need to replenish, and these young women can’t do that here.”
“Exactly. You do understand.”
“But they will marry common men; there’s no equivalent to our order among men.”
“True, but there is nothing to be done for it; the mothers will recognize the daughters who have the gift. We’ve had Aaralyn who’ve abandoned our ranks throughout history.”
Janis nodded.
“But as for the Canticle of Victory, I have a plan.”
And as the night unfolded, she told Janis about it.
**************
“Seems a bit dramatic, Krista, but all right; you know that even crystal can shatter at the right frequency.”
“That may be true of ordinary crystal; this isn’t.”
“How so?”
“All of the factions have contributed, but we put in the final piece, the key that unlocks the Victory Canticle to draw it out, without shattering the container, and its protector.”
“And what is the key?”
Krista smiled.
“She hasn’t been born yet.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me, Krista…”
“There is, but see it done, Janis. Please.”
Janis took that as her cue, and rose to leave.
“I’ll see it done.”
2)
Toward winter’s end, as the battle weariness began to fade, and the women began to return to a sense of life, if not normalcy, Singer Krista felt the time had come, and called a gathering in the ampitheater.
The Aaralyn came, curious, excited, and nervous, as they’d more or less passed the winter in idleness, left to their own devices.
Some practiced, some studied, some pursued hobbies, and there were the usual amounts of squabbles, clique fighting and infighting, but now they were eager to get on with things.
Krista and Janis had seen to the nobility that called on the Great Hall after the cleanup, seeking their alliance in gaining this throne or that throne.
Krista let it be known that having been attacked from all sides, they would take no sides, since they’d had no allies in their hour of need.
Soon, it wouldn’t matter.
The ampitheater carried sound, so there was no need for her to raise her voice.
When Krista took the stage, the ladies grew quiet.
“Welcome, Singers. There is no easy way to say this, but this will be our final gathering.”
There were some surprised gasps and cries, but the Elder put her hands up for silence.
“We’ve known this day was coming for some time.
“Look around you.”
She gave them a moment as they did.
“These are all that remain.”
She let that sink in.
“The time has come for us to rejoin the world.”
More cries of resistance peppered the air.
“Singers…sisters…we must be realistic; our times and purposes have been fulfilled, and the Aaralyn have emerged victorious.
“But we must ever be present in the world, lest these times come again.
“And for that, we need children, and for that, we must rejoin the world.
“My own time is past, my children long taken from this world at the war’s beginning, to break me. To stop me. And it almost did.
“But those of you who remain are young, fertile, and for the most part…”
She smiled.
“…beautiful.”
There was a ripple of laughter, as intended, and she waited until it passed.
“And then, there are the Canticles.”
They once more gave her their attention.
“The books have survived, and been copied. There are compendiums, hidden, and individual copies, the ones you received. The ones you used to ensure our survival.
“When we depart, you will have these books among you, so they will be scattered throughout the world as we know it. Guard them well, with your lives if need be.
“But as you leave to start your lives over, and start your families, there is one Canticle that will remain here, buried and unmarked.”
Murmurs of surprise filled the theater.
“This Canticle will be used to defeat any more factions that may gather in the future; it is the most potent of all. It will supersede all others, even those written by the factions against us.
“It was worked on in secret by the most gifted Aaralyn, centuries before most of your births.
“We had to search for it, and in the searching, we lost more of us, even as we were devastated in the killing that almost consumed us.
“The remnant of factions against us that survive already works its opposite to counter, but as yet have not succeeded, according to such spies as remain among them.”
She noticed them beginning to shift, and knew she had to close.
“This is the last piece that needs to be done before we go.”
She removed from beneath the podium an ornate teak box with bronze reinforcements and locks.
Opening it, she removed a faceted crystal, light blue, with an opalescent vapor slowly swirling about within it.
The women admired its beauty as Krista held it in sure hands.
“This is the Canticle of Victory.”
She placed it back in the box, and removed another; this one was black with silver reinforcements and locks.
From that, she removed a coiled serpent, wrapped three times, also of crystal.
Some of the women murmured at that, some looked away.
She then took the crystal out again, and placed it in the serpent’s coils.
The opalescent vapor in the crystal came out, and entered into the coils of the snake.
As it filled, the snake’s hood spread, revealing it to be a cobra.
Krista could sense the repulsed fascination, and indeed, as Janis said, it was dramatic.
Her audience gasped.
“The Canticle of Victory is now sealed, until the next time it is needed. It will be left in a mountain cave with nothing to mark it, the passing of time burying it further still, but don’t worry, Singers.
“Whoever needs to use it, they will find it. She will be told of its existence, and if she is the right one, at the right time, she will find it on her own.”
Another silence, but this one was heavy, as the Elder began to weep.
“It has been my life’s honor to fight beside you.
“Your bravery, though unrecorded, will live on in the fact that the world still exists, tattered and bruised though it may be.
“Our power, and our unity, did that.
“The earth you now walk is the one you helped save, and as we depart from here…”
She sniffled, and dabbed at her eyes.
“May your daughters be blessed to fill our Great Halls once more with song, and our world with peace.”
“We are adjourned.”
She put the serpent and crystal in the black and silver box, and sealed it with an incant.
Her attendant came, took it, gave a brief nod, and left to start toward the mountain cave.
Applause thundered, tears flowed, cries, songs, and ululations rocked the ampitheatre as the women hugged, kissed, and embraced each other.
Krista moved among them, smiling, blessing, and as the sky darkened and the theater emptied, the sun set and the moon rose, and the chill winds blew snow from the peaks, the age of the Aaralyn passed into history, faded with time.
And the final notes of their farewells soaked into the stars above, to disappear in the light of a new dawn.
**************************
When Singer Lisa arrived at the cave, the moon was high.
The horse was somewhat winded, but she’d explored the mountains often as she hunted, and she’d remembered to bring oats, carrots, and let it drink from the stream where she’d spent many an afternoon poring over her Canticles.
With deft movements she exposed the cave’s covering.
When a gust of wind blew sparkling virgin snow, she placed her scarf over her mouth and nose as she retrieved a lantern from another pack she’d fastened to the saddle.
This needs to be done quickly.
She left the pack with the box on her back; she’d endured its discomfort there for the sake of its importance for the whole ride; a few more minutes wouldn’t make a difference.
She slipped inside the cave.
In the narrow tunnel she had to bend, but it would open back up to where she could stand again.
She reached the space, allowing the lantern light to fill the space and her eyes to adjust.
A figure in a black robe lined with silver sat on a rock, and turned to look at Lisa.
Its eyes were blood red, and glowing, and its skin white as the virgin snow surrounding them.
It stood up, and in its left hand was a walking stick of old bone.
Its lips were thin, and flushed with red as well, darker than its eyes, but stark in contrast against its face.
Langorously, it extended its right arm, and the hand, with long fingers and hooked red nails, was palm up.
It spoke to Lisa in a woman’s voice, low, almost sultry, belying its bizarre appearance.
“Ah, welcome, Singer…” it tilted its head a bit, “…Lisa, is it? I see you’ve come to return my pet.”
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
In the Mean Time
We count for nothing
We are prone to anyone’s impulse to violence
Whether they wear a badge or watch the community….
In the Mean Time
We are hated for things that have nothing to do with
who
we are (not just a skin color)
In the Mean Time
We are shot like rabid dogs
regardless of guilt or innocence
In the Mean Time
Are our prayers even heard?
Is our suffering even
moving the hearts
of
anyone,
anywhere?
In the Mean Time,
we must go on
and strive to exist,
and fight to survive
and struggle to live
in hostile territory
surrounded by
enemies
shouting
curses and untruths
behind their walls
of
hate and fear.
In the Mean Time
We must continue to
Love
one another
and
our enemy,
even as we
contend with his ignorance.
In the Mean Time
Life for us here is hard,
but it can and will
get worse
if we
give up
in the
Mean Time.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr.
2015
Brilliant colored fantasies
Dreams of ash and rust
Special, tender touches
Calculating lust
Sunny, happy memories
And abandoned plans
Butterflies on gilded wings
Useless broken fans
Such things life is made of;
What else can we do?
In the fabric of my fate
The
centerpiece
is you.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr.
“Dr.Chen?
She was startled out of her reverie.
I have to stay focused. Caroline is the mission now.
She did, however, have some questions for the General.
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“I just heard that…”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“Do you–?”
“No, no. There was nothing to be done for it.”
She looked around, then back at Harris. “For any of it, really.”
He nodded. “Are you all packed?”
“I’m ready to go, yes.”
“Follow me, please. I know you know the way, but there are clearances that you don’t have. They seem pointless, now, I know, but everyone seems determined to embrace the comfortable until the end.”
“I understand.”
She followed him.
************************
General Williams was waiting at the dock.
“Teri, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, General.” She straightened her shoulders. “I do have a question: if I’d requested my family be evacuated and brought here, was there anything that could have been done?”
Williams didn’t hesitate, and his own eyes clouded a bit as he shook his head.
“Nothing is going to be done for any of us. I won’t see my family again. My grandkids…”
“Oh.” She looked down, and her voice sounded small and far away. Of course others have family that are not going to see them before they go; at least you got to see yours, and you know what happened, and when, and why. There are so many others who will never have those questions answered.
He continued. “And to what end, doctor? You said it yourself, destruction is imminent. Make peace with it, Teri. With yourself, too. We’re going to need you now more than ever.
She lifted her eyes to his. “I will complete the mission, sir.”
Williams smiled. “Unfortunately, we’ll never see the outcome, but I have every faith in you.”
A faint tremor vibrated the floor beneath them.
Voices were raised, and the mood instantly grew more somber and intense, and not a little fearful.
“Time to launch, sir.” said Harris.
“Thank you, captain obvious.”
They all laughed.
“Teri?” Williams extended his arm expansively, inviting her to go aboard, as if he were the captain of a cruise ship, and not the doomed general of yet another science facility that wandered too far from its walls.
“Kyro’s already strapped in,” Harris said, extending his hand. “It’s been an honor, Teri.”
She watched him closely, but his face betrayed nothing but fondness, and a trace of sadness they would no longer be working together. Beyond that, there was nothing she could decipher. Either Kyro really wasn’t his son, or he was gifted at deceiving.
She took the proffered hand. “Same here, Ken.”
She released his hand, and turned to board. Glancing over at Kyro, his head had lolled to the side, so he was already asleep. Good, she didn’t feel like engaging an assassin. She looked out at the black, weightless expanse of dotted with white fire.
*****************************
No family. No longer a wife. No longer a mother. Just these children now. And Caroline, who will cause no end of grief on the new colony.
If it weren’t for her, I would’ve been able to join them, see them, hold them…but she has given me a life devoid of meaning. With no one to share with, to spend time off with, to do anything with; I’m going alone.
Her evil intentions mean nothing to me, but because of her, I’m forced to go on, when all I want to do is die.
So I will stop her. I will make her pay for what she’s done to me; every day I stay alive, I will make her pay. Every memory, she will pay.
The stars blurred, and she realized she was crying. This time, she didn’t bother fighting it.
“….three….two….one….we are launched. All automated systems are functioning normally.”
“Safe journey, Dr. Chen.”
“Goodbye.”
Her voice came out more than a whisper, less than a sob; it was not just meant for her colleagues. It was to everything that had made her up to this moment. She wasn’t just on her way to a new colony, but on her way to becoming something else.
Chapter 3:
The tremors were becoming more violent. Williams and Harris could’ve enlisted the help of others, but they’d either left or were trying to find a place to exit, though where they’d go if the ground was crumbling, Harris had no idea.
“The Naissance is ready, General.”
“Thanks, Harris. Caroline?”
“She’s in her pod.”
“Is there any way to extract her covertly?”
Harris gave him a grim smile. “She changed all the protocols, sir. You said it yourself, she’s ten steps ahead of us.”
“What I want to know is when did she have time to do all this, and if someone helped her. Have security run video from the last thirty days on all the bay doors.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If Teri can’t get to her, maybe one of the others will do us all a favor and stab her in the back.”
Harris looked away.
“I’m sorry, Harris. That was out of line.”
“What was, sir?”
Williams smiled.
Another tremor boomed, and the building swayed like an empty swing in a storm wind.
Both men lost their footing, and when the tremor subsided, they pushed themselves up along the walls behind them, the portion that remained intact. As they were in the northernmost station, it could only mean that now the entire planet was all but consumed from within.
No one knew if it would be another hour, or another day, but they all knew they were living on borrowed time now.
“General?”
Williams had gained his feet, and helped Harris up the rest of the way.
“I’m listening.”
“We still control the launch, sir. We don’t have to send them.”
“I’ve thought of that, but to kill all for the sake of one…as I said, they may do it for us, and we’ve already programmed them as well.”
“Just an option, sir. Still on the table as long as we don’t–”
An alarm blared through the station, but there was no tremor.
“What in the hell–?” WIlliams blustered.
“Naissance has pre-launched. Repeat, repeat, Naissance has pre-launched!”
Williams and Harris found the nearest com station; the young attendant was punching keys but coming up empty.
“Onscreen, young lady!”
“Trying, sir! Please give me a minute…”
Harris put up a restraining hand, and Williams backed away.
The screen flickered, went out, flickered again, and flared to life, stabilizing.
The ship came into view, and the shot of its interior showed the floor was empty.
They watched as the ship sailed over the station below, the shadow blocking out the starlight glittering like strewn gems spilled in ink.across the top,
“Retractors?”
“Offline, sir. Damaged.”
“We’re going to lose it.” The ship was past the station, clearing the harbor.
A hologram of Caroline sitting in the captain’s chair filled the screen.
“Hello, General Williams. I managed to gain access to the ship’s computers days ago, when the tremors first started.
“I programmed the ship to override the safety protocols and release the locks if the magnitude went above four-point-five. If you’re seeing this, then the ship is already loose and on its way.”
All three of them shook their heads in wonder; they’d badly underestimated her intelligence; in no way they measured it was she able to pull this off.
“I had no idea, of course, if it would actually work, but I guess I’ll know if I wake up dead,” she smiled at the weak joke, “or if we’re still in that hellhole you call a station. And if the magnitude of the tremors is beyond that, then the creature is about to tear the place apart.
“I hope it doesn’t come after us, General, but so be it if it does. Either way, I won’t be able to send those reports I promised you.
“Farewell, sir. I’ll never forgive you for what you did to my father.”
She leaned forward, and the camera zoomed in on those dark, glittery eyes.
“Never.”
The com went blank again.
“Shoot it down, sir?”
Williams said nothing.
“Sir?”
“Check the weapons.”
The young attendant pushed more buttons.
“Nothing, sir. Offline.”
Williams felt his shoulders slumping yet again.
Outwitted by a thirteen year old girl…
Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d been wrong to sign up all those years ago.
A loud rumbling filled the hall, and things began to sway and rattle and fall and slide.
The floor bucked beneath him, and he flipped over backward, catching the corner of a moving desk, the corner cracking a hole in his skull; he could see the blood running from under his head as his vision began to fade.
I thought it was the right thing to do. ran through his mind as he passed into oblivion.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
“Are you sure, Dr. Chen?”
“Yes, General. All signs point to imminent destruction. We’ve done all we can to stop it, but it keeps finding ways to advance; either it keeps attacking the structures we’ve already managed to put in place, or it finds a weak spot, or it grows something to get around and find a new path.
“Those concern us most, because we can’t keep pace, and it advances most quickly when it’s unobstructed. It’s infiltrated too much of the planet, and when it pulls itself into the core, it will push outward.”
“What happens then?”
“It will be nearly double in size, but then it won’t be able to sustain itself with the depleted energy from the core, and it will push the planet’s hemispheres to either side, ripping it in half. Then it will move on to the next planet it deems edible.”
“And then?”
Dr. Chen shrugged. “It’s been an honor to work with you, sir.”
He sighed. “You as well, Teri.”
They shook hands, and he walked away, as Chen turned back to what remained of her duties, more to fill the time until the end than have any real hope of stopping the creature that was leeching on their planet’s core from the inside.
“General Williams,” Lieutenant Harris said in greeting. “They’re ready, sir.”
“And the maternal units?”
“Ready as well.”
“Hunters?”
“All of them, sir. Every facet, every child has been pre-programmed to fulfill their duties on the new colony.”
Williams nodded. “Well done, Harris. I want Teri to go with them, too. Is there room?”
“Dr. Chen, sir?”
“Yes.”
“With all due respect sir, may I ask why?”
“With all respect taken, lieutenant, you can ask away,” Williams smiled. “The need for formality is somewhat moot at this point, Harris.”
Harris visibly relaxed.
“The children are going to need a physician; she’s a medical biologist, a pioneer in genetics, and she’s got a family of her own that she won’t be able to get back in time to see. She’s resigned herself, but I don’t see the need to waste her talents and abilities. There are things she can train the children to do medically that may be needed later on.”
“I understand. But she’ll be the only adult.”
“Who said that? What about the others we were sending down to build the structures, and provide for the children until their pods were safe?”
“It’s a little hard to explain, General.”
“Then try hard, lieutenant.”
“Caroline said she didn’t want any adults, sir.”
“Caroline? She’s thirteen years old! She’s–”
“She’s going to be the planet’s ruler, sir. She’s light years ahead of the others in intellect, in potential, in physical superiority. Her father–”
“Messed with her genetics, I remember. It’s why Teri replaced him.”
“It’s also why she’s…resentful…of anything you recommend.”
“Let me talk to her.”
*****************************
The com flared to life.
Caroline’s face filled the screen. Everything about her was dark, as if an aura sculpted her form. Raven curls draped over her shoulder, caramel colored skin, exotic, dark eyes that glittered with intelligence, and something of amused condescension in her attitude toward the General.
“General Williams. It’s an honor, sir.”
“What the hell are you doing, kid?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me that again. That will be your only warning.”
Williams sighed. ” You’re going to need those people, Caroline. They’re going to build your homes, your roads, and provide whatever else you need.”
“We need nothing these men will provide, General. They are symbols of the old world, and simply have no place in the new.”
“How are you going to fend for yourselves?”
“Let me worry about that; the others will fall into line.”
“You’ll all be asleep.”
She laughed. “Oh, General Williams. You’re adorable.”
He heated at the tone of her voice.
“What have you done?”
“I reprogrammed my pod, sir. I will be the first to awaken, by a day, at least. I’ll report my findings to you as I go. Keep you in the loop; it’s a courtesy of course, and temporary. As the others awake, I’ll have already established myself.”
“Dr.-”
Off camera, Harris quickly shook his head.
“What?”
“Dr. Chen said you’re all ready.”
“We are, sir. I will miss Dr. Chen. And General, please don’t send them down after us.”
“Why would you think–?”
“You’ve read my file, General?”
“I have.”
“I’ve read yours as well. Never mind how.” Again, the condescending smile and tone. “If you send them, I will have them killed.”
General Williams’ shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry we elected to send you, Caroline. We really should have killed you.”
“You should have, but like I said, sir, I read your file. You’re much too ambitious. You were foolish to think you were going to get the credit for producing a prodigy like me. Now, it’s come to nothing, and you’ve given me the opportunity to thrive.
“For that much, at least, I thank you.” Her eyes scanned the ship’s systems, then she looked back at Williams. “The time is near, General, and I don’t think we’ve anything left to say, other than good-bye.”
“Good bye, Caroline. I hope your pod is the first to burn.”
She laughed again, with no mirth, her eyes never leaving his, a light in them that struck a spark of fear in his spine, and the com went blank.
**************************
“Why did you keep me from telling her about Teri?”
“We’ll have to send her down separately, sir. Caroline can’t know she’s there. Teri has to deprogram her.”
“How’s she going to do that? Caroline is about ten steps ahead of us.”
“I have someone else in mind to send, who can bring her close enough; with his help, they can isolate Caroline, and if they can’t deprogram her…”
“He’ll kill her.”
Harris nodded.
“See it done, Harris.”
“Right away, sir.”
************************
“I’m going?”
“They’re going to need a doctor, and we need you to reprogram Caroline’s genetics. She’s growing unstable, arrogant.”
“I thought that might happen; she was exhibiting, but part of that was also being thirteen.”
“She’s only thirteen physically. Mentally, she’s beyond genius, and even physically, she trounces the kids in activities, even some of the boys.”
“That’s a shame; had she stayed within parameters, we could have had something great there.”
“It’s not over yet, Dr. Chen.” Harris said. “Our last shot to salvage her…is you.”
Dr. Chen nodded. “Understood.”
“But you won’t be going alone.”
“You’re sending an assassin in case the new genetics don’t take…”
“How did you know?”
“I haven’t been working here all this time with my head stuck in a test tube, Lieutenant.”
Harris smiled. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t. Let’s meet him.”
The door slid open, and a young boy of thirteen entered.
“Dr. Chen, this is Kyro.”
“Kyro,” she stuck out her hand. Kyro took it.
“Dr. Chen.”
She looked at Lieutenant Harris. “He’s a little young to be an assassin, isn’t he?”
“I thought you didn’t have your head stuck in a test tube, Teri. Kyro’s been programmed with the methods and weapons knowledge of the world’s elite assassins from the last fifty years. His options are limitless, his methods impeccable. Blades, poisons, bombs, guns, mines….”
“I get it, Lieutenant. He’s a buffet of death.”
“That’s a rather colorful way to put it, but yes.”
“I’ll go pack,” she said.
She looked back over her shoulder, saw Harris and Kyro conferring, heads close, eyes locked, but just before the door closed, she thought she saw Harris say the word ‘son.’
She went to a computer, punched in Kyro’s name, but nothing came up.
“Of course, he doesn’t exist.”
Chapter 2:
The country was in upheaval, her husband said. Buildings were already falling to the south. It was just a matter of time.
He didn’t cry, and neither did she.
“Let me see the kids,” she said.
He put them on the com; their faces were afraid, but resigned.
“There’s nothing you can do, right mommy?”
“If I could, you know I’d kill this thing to protect you.”
“We know, mom, ” her daughter, the oldest, said. “Dad’s kept us safe so far.”
“I wish we could join you, ” her husband said, “but I know they won’t send anything.”
“I could try.”
“I won’t lie to you, Teri: we’re terrified. If they can send anything, then you should try.”
The picture on the com wavered, rocked.
Her husband gave her a wan smile. “Never mind.”
“I love you,” she said. Her vision blurred and her eyes grew hot, “I love you all.”
She put her hand on the screen, and they all placed theirs on it, and they stayed that way for a moment or two, and then the picture rocked again, more violently, and her family fell away from view, her husband’s strong arms still around the kids as they crashed to the floor, and the com went blank.
She didn’t remember the rest of the day.
I didn’t do all I could to save them….kept running through her mind.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
A rush of wind wrapped around the inn as a night storm approached, a night I’d now be spending alone because of my…. stupidity. It mattered, but it didn’t; anything in excess wasn’t a good thing, and we’d renewed our ‘affections’ that afternoon. Truth is, that probably was a mistake as well, but if I didn’t survive, I’d have lovely memories while the life leaked out of me.
Alazne and I had worked things out; we were going to kill Jonas Noll first, she said, because it would quickly dishearten the others, maybe even cause them to run. We’d start tracking him in the morning. The next planning session was with Amia, to find out what she was going to do about Malika. If she was as powerful as Amia said, and found out what we were doing, she wasn’t likely to stand idly by and let us go unfettered as we wrecked her plans. I was and wasn’t looking forward to that. Sprawled out on the bed, quieting my thoughts with deep breathing, letting the candle gutter, I heard the rumble of distant thunder; it sounded like a giant snoring under a blanket, and the sky began to flash with the heated brilliance of lightning gathering power. It had been a long day, and I had a lot to think about, but it was late and I was tired.
I closed my eyes, and stopped thinking of the details that still niggled at my mind; this was not going to go perfectly, no matter how well planned. I’d lived long enough to know that nothing ever really does. I wasn’t even sure of my motivation for doing it. Was it to rekindle what I had once with Amia? She’d changed so much, grown so powerful, no longer the innocent ingénue she actually was when we first met, that a reunion of substance didn’t seem likely. In looking back at how I filled that time between then and now, there’d been no real progress;
I was, at heart, a mercenary, mostly playing at bounty hunting. The work suited my temperament, and I traveled in the process, meeting a wide variety of crazy people, getting into harrowing situations, and somehow still coming out alive, if not always victorious. And who were these women Amia wanted to join?
Having no interest in magic myself, it had sometimes been at the periphery of things I was working on, whispers and rumors I dismissed as superstition and spent no time investigating, since it never impeded my pursuit and capture of the person I hunted. Who would benefit from them retaining their foothold, and how did Amia really know their true intentions if she had not yet been admitted to their ranks?
And then there was Alazne: young, enigmatic, maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, stealthy as a spider and just as quiet. Why was she with Amia? Where did she come from, and how much of wood lore and weaponry did she really know?
She was tough to get a read on, and if it was just bravado (I didn’t think it was, I just wasn’t sure), we were both going to die by Jonas’ hand. So much for letting go. I turned, pulling the covers over me, reliving the events in my mind of a long, pleasantly physical afternoon that I could have actually been reliving…actually. It would have to suffice, for now.
Sleep was a while in coming, but eventually, her soft fingers lowered my lids, and a thought drifted up like a tendril of mist from warm soil on a chilly morning.
Great, a mid-life crisis on a rainy night. Only you, Haskell. Only you…
*************************
Sometime before morning, a floral fragrance filled the room; I knew all of Amia’s perfumes, and this wasn’t among them. Alazne, who I had no doubt could get into any room she desired, always smelled of earthy loam: a combination of soil and pine and creature.
The storm was over, and the sky outside was paling, but there was, as yet, no physical light. The woman who sat on the stool beside my bed looked at me with gentle eyes and a small smile on her lips, as if she were watching a baby she didn’t know who’d aroused her maternal instinct. Her hands reposed in her lap, weaponless, but that meant nothing in a being of magic.
“Hello, Haskell,” said a dulcet and mellifluous female voice.
I pulled myself into a sitting position, and studied her back. The smile grew a bit more, and the eyes didn’t waver, but locked with mine, inviting me into their depths.
I knew without knowing, and named her. “Malika.”
She inclined her head, and strands of a glorious raven mane draped her cheeks. Her eyes were the blue of snow in moonlight, a soft and pale shadowy blue; everything about her was still, and calm. Had she not spoken I might have believed her a piece of painted sculpture.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’re here to tell me not to help Amia.”
She took a little breath, pulled the strands off her cheeks, a pretty, feminine and elegant gesture; I found myself wishing I’d done it for her first.
“On the contrary, Haskell. I’m here to tell you that I’ll help you do it.”
I let that sink in; it took awhile, but she waited, calm as a boulder in a raging river.
“Why?”
“Because we want the same thing, but I’m about to tell you something Amia doesn’t know yet, and you’re not to breathe a word.”
This was getting to be tangled roots, and that was never a good thing, but I waited.
She gauged me a while longer than needed, and I found myself getting uneasy under that soft blue gaze. After a moment, she seemed to steel herself to trust me with her secret:
“Amia is my cousin.”
I cleared my throat, sat up straighter. “She wants to kill you.”
“And that’s why I’m here, because you have to stop her.”
“Let me guess; without letting her know who you are?”
“Yes.”
“How am I to do that?”
“Well, you spent the afternoon…planning…with her and Alazne; let’s spend what remains of the night planning this.”
I sighed.
Sleep had vanished around the corner, and the horizon began to bleed a thin stream of color.
“Very well.”
She smiled that quiet smile again, and my heart skipped a beat.
This was going to be a problem…
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
We walked back in silence; that is to say, Alazne and I were silent. The thick forest was alive with sounds of the creatures of night, hunting and being hunted, croaking, cricketing, rustling, whooshing, hooting, clicking, buzzing and glimmering.
Alazne knew the way back, with no second guessing. As a tracker and hunter, I was impressed, if a little unnerved. She had advanced skills for someone her age, and I had questions I didn’t want answers to, so I stayed quiet and followed in the wake of light from her lantern.
Walking down the paved path to Amia’s door, my heart began to beat faster, part nervousness, part excitement, and if I had to really analyze it, part fear. It had been years since we were together, and though I had no idea how time had been to her, I knew what it had done to me, and it wasn’t pretty, and it hadn’t been kind.
She sat in the light of a healthy hearth fire, her legs curled under her, her auburn hair gleaming in the firelight. Her evening dress was a sky blue trimmed with dark blue curlicues that ran the length of her sleeves and around her waist.
Fixing her bright green eyes on me, I almost stumbled.
“Haskell, my friend! It is good to see you.”
“Hello, Amia.”
She rose from the chair like a queen about to spit on a peasant’s head, and kissed me lightly on the cheek.
Alazne had made herself disappear; I could tell it was something she had a lot of practice doing.
“Sit, please.” Amia indicated the chair opposite her. I sat, and she poured something into a cup and passed it to me. It was steaming, and smelled like bitten warm plums in high summer.
“The best of Inkara wines.”
“I’ve always liked Inkara.”
“You’ve always had reason to.” She smiled at me, and against my better judgement, I smiled too.
“It’s where we met,” she reminded me.
“How could I forget?”
“If you didn’t forget, why didn’t you come for me?”
“If I’d known you wanted to be found, I would have.”
“You left me, Haskell. I can’t begin to tell you what I needed to do to survive.”
“Do I need to know?”
“You selfish, pigheaded–”
I put the cup on the table next to me, and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving again. You have no claim on me, Amia, and I’ve none on you. Whatever game you’re playing, I want no part in it. I don’t know how you found me, I don’t know why you sent a child I don’t know to bring me here, but to invite me here to reprimand me because I’m not a mind reader–”
She stopped, and seemed to collect herself. “I’m sorry, Haskell. Please, sit down.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, sitting. “I need your help.”
“You…”
“Yes, Haskell. I need your help. I have no one else to turn to. I made inquiries, and they told me you were traveling here, to my homeland. I left this place, but I had Alazne stay and tend it, and keep away intruders.”
I sat, curiosity getting the better of me; Alazne was slight of build. She looked like a waif that would reach a weight of ninety pounds in a soaking rain.
“Who is she?”
Amia smiled. “There’ll be time for that later. She’s more formidable than she looks.”
I let that pass, and after an appropriate moment, I brought it back to the subject.
“What’s your problem?”
“I came across some information I wasn’t supposed to; there’s a council gathering against the Priestess Guild. They’ve been accused of sorcery. I need to warn them.”
“Are you part of them?”
“I made my attempt, and they were to get back to me. I don’t know my status.”
“So what role does the council play?”
“They want to kill them. They’re afraid of the arts the priestesses use, and they think they’re going to take over the land.”
“They have more than enough power to do that if they want; the council should know that.”
“The old council did. This new one is headed by a firebrand named Malika. She’s made it her mission to disband the Priestesses and see them executed for witchcraft.”
“But they’re mostly Healers, right?”
“There are some who dabble in the darker arts. We, or I should say, ‘they’, have their secret sects as well, but they are not involved in a take-over bid. That isn’t true, and the council knows it isn’t.”
I sipped some more of the plum wine, and savored it this time.
The fire crackled cheerfully in the silence we’d left as Amia took a sip for herself.
I sighed, knowing I shouldn’t have asked, but those green eyes were pulling me back out of the center of myself, and my resistance crumbled like a fortress of sand.
“What do you want me to do?”
She threw a purse of gold and a rolled up scroll at my feet. “Hire some mercenaries, or whoever you trust, and kill the men on the council. Their names are on the scroll. Take as long as you need to, and don’t say a word to them; I know how much you like to talk, even during a fight.”
I swallowed. She had the truth of it; if I knew I was better than the person I was against, and going to win, the taunting was inevitable, though completely unnecessary. I couldn’t help it.
“And Malika?”
Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds with a phosphorous center. It gave me chills, and I quickly suppressed the memory of the last time I saw that fire.
“I’ll take care of her. Since I’m not one of them yet, it can’t count as betrayal.”
“All right.” I picked up the pen and signed the agreement, then the other form for the supplies. “Where do I sleep?”
Amia laughed, and it was like chimes ringing in a major key, in a gentle wind, on a cloudless day.
“Alazne will show you out,” she said.
Alazne was at the door, holding it open, lantern in hand, the wind frippering her cloak about her.
I chuckled at my stupidity, but there it was.
I made a grand sweeping motion with my arm.
“Lead on, Alazne,” I said, slipping out after her as the door closed by itself behind us, driven by Amia’s power, and I heard the lock click.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr.
Beyond Panic 