by M.C. O'Neill
For Your Consideration (i)
ROYAL DECREE
Addressed on this Moonday the 27th day of Fourthmoon in the Era of Mana, 2789.
His Majesty the High King Rigel’liss IV, overseer of the Kingdom of Atlantis who, in all the gods’ wisdom, has issued a declaration of martial law for the entire Kingdom of Atlantis and all of her holdings as of 6 p.m. on the evening of this date.
Let it be known!
In a response to the attack on our kingdom’s colony of Cydonia on the planet Mars, and in a suspected collusion with the presence of the alien pyramids, our nation is preparing for a possible assault upon and within her borders by forces as of yet unknown. The aggressors have attempted contact with the nations of this earth via unorthodox methods of which will remain disclosed until further notice for sake and sanity of our population. As such, the following parameters are to be met by any and all citizens of this grand nation:
All citizens, unless authorized by official permission, are to remain in their homes between the hours of 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. The doors of private businesses are to be shut by 5 p.m. daily. Any citizen out of their homes between these times will be arrested by agents of either the Atlantis Defense Force or municipal Civil Wardens unless a waiver of release is presented.
Utilities and communications have been assumed by government oversight through the duration of this period. Possible blackouts and loss of communications, but not limited to the manacloud, manascreens, personal phones, tablets, and public screens, can be expected. We implore your patience during this loss of media.
All schools and universities are closed for the remainder of this school semester.
Cordons around each of the pyramids have increased in force and radius. No private citizen is allowed within five miles of the central point of each of these structures. Any attempt to breach this cordon will result in immediate arrest. Relocation centers for citizens who live within the prohibited zones will be provided in your inbox attached to this message. If you require special needs or assistance for travel to one of these locations, please notify a Civil Warden for arrangements.
Public and private travel to and from Atlantis and all of her holdings is prohibited by sea and air unless an official waiver is presented. Aqualanes will be closed once again to public traffic.
Public underground shelters are to remain stocked and depopulated for any possible local evacuation. Attached to this decree in your inbox is the address to your local shelter. Any attempt to breach one of these shelters will result in immediate arrest. No trespassing is allowed whatsoever.
Looters or vandals are ordered by official authorities to be shot on sight. Keep your hands to yourself!
If you are an armed household, keep any legally-approved casters or red mana devices loaded with a refill at the ready. These measures are only to be used for home defense. Carrying any weaponry outside of the home is an offense and any citizen found with such items will be subject to arrest and confiscation of said devices.
Do not molest the pyramids! Do not attempt to shoot or strike the pyramids if in the event you are within their striking range. Any such efforts will be met with deadly response by the Atlantis Defense Force.
Be Safe!
In the event of an attack, preparation is the key! Maintain a “care package” of goods and supplies in the event of an evacuation to a shelter. Attached to this decree is a list of supplies that you and your family should have prepared during this period. Keep this bundle at the ready by an exit to your home. Evacuation is a quick and ordered process; don’t be caught unprepared!
Further, in the event the enemy employs chemical or biological methods of attack via gas or vapor, dampen a towel or cloth with water and line it with charcoal for a makeshift filter. Apply the device to your nose and your mouth. This will be effective in shielding you from any noxious fumes.
Be Alert!
Warning sirens will make you aware of any pending attack. In the event of a conventional assault by air or land, you will hear this klaxon:
In the event of a chemical or biological attack, listen for this warning:
The “all-clear” for safety will sound like this in either event:
You Can Help!
The Atlantean Home Guard is mobilizing! All able-bodied males and females between the ages of fourteen and eighty-four are encouraged to join this new brigade of daring elves to help defend the Kingdom from invasion. Adventurous jobs such as traffic detail, food distribution, air warning and spotlight technician are available to you today! Attached to this decree is the address of your local recruitment center which is operative between the hours of 7 a.m. and 5 p.m.
As always, the Atlantis Defense Forces need you! Join our standing army in the shadow of this momentous occasion and be the next hero of this wonderful Kingdom! ADF recruiters will be available at all Home Guard recruitment centers. Are you up for the challenge, soldier?
Centers for food distribution are always taking donations for food, goods, clothes, toys, and weapons. Take inventory of what you can spare to help our nation overcome this trying time. Attached to this decree is the address to your nearest food distribution center.
Attached to this decree is your calorie card, calculated for you and your family as per the latest census. Caloric consumption over this limit is stealing! Please keep your daily intake within the parameters set forth by your notification. This limit does not affect food purchased at restaurants, cafes, or other eateries. Food distribution and allowance will return to normal levels once this crisis abates.
Together we will overcome this trial to our nation. Your behavior and fortitude are the primary elements that will preserve this great kingdom so that she will never vanish from this earth.
So Be It!
From the throne of his Majesty the High King Rigel’liss IV.
Fourthmoon 27, 2789 E.M.
Gods Save the King!
Please remember to shop at Manamart! ™ Supplying all your family’s needs for over fifteen hundred years!
Circle of the Snake
Centeo Mitlan studied his well-manicured nails in the dim light of the chamber for traces of blood and was disgusted to find large streaks of it on the back of his meaty hand. No matter how many times he had performed a sacrifice, he could never seem to make it a tidy operation, as blood was so unpredictable, one could never tell where it would jet. Upon reaction, he dropped the soiled dagger on the ground.
“Vin Dai’e, Vin Dai’e Maniero Kiero Volen- Stolas! Stolas! Stolas!” he managed to finish the menacing chant. This song triggered the small pool sunken in the middle of the basement to burst with an immediate blue light which illuminated the warm darkness. Glynna Reyliss’ jaw dropped in amazement. For years, she had studied summoning rituals of the Elder Ones from ancient tomes and scrolls, but, truth be told, she had never been present to any of the sometimes grisly rites described, such as the one before her.
Many senior members of the Circle of Finance were present to this ritual as the Elder Ones had been quite instrumental in their lifetime successes, or so they believed. These grand entities from beyond the stars were the alleged benefactors of wealth, love, power, and knowledge for the elves who were in the know. All the elves in that dark room indeed knew much more than the simpering denizens huddling in fear in the world outside.
Stolas preferred owls for some reason, and the little brown beast Lord Mitlan kept for these occasions began hooting like a steam whistle on its golden perch as the otherworldly image rose with a crawling speed from out of the crimson puddle. As was usual, most animals hated these entities, but each Elder One had a favorite type and that chosen beast seemed immune to such fear. No matter how many times these honeyed elves had attended a summoning, the arrival of an Elder One was so magnificent that the whole blanket of reality seemed to bend into something unlike the mundane existence that was their daily lives.
Close to nine feet of unearthly mass stood in transparent grandeur before the enrapt attendees. Stolas
’ face looked a bit bewildered as he was training his bearings on his new surroundings. Depending on how much preparation the summoner had made for the ritual, their extraterrestrial subject could sometimes be caught off guard. An Elder One was forced to respond to this call no matter what was going on at the time. To establish a point of reference, the goetic trained his view on the tiny owl and, after a few moments, figured out he was before his old “friend.”
This Elder One was a master of astronomy and spacefaring. Many elves in his court debated that he was the being who made the invention of the godsrail possible and, hence, was more or less the one responsible for their knowledge of interstellar travel. Without this wise old one, Mars would have never happened, or so it was believed.
Lord Mitlan knew it was a bad time, more so than usual, to bother any of the entities, but Stolas was much more agreeable than say, Asmodai or Aim. For the bulk of a week since the pyramids’ arrival, the financial elder had controlled his curiosity as to why these mystical ones were not yet emerging from the crafts. Considering the Martian situation, Centeo thought it was logical to contact an ambassador who was most apt and able to help in this time of crisis. If any of those strange beings had an answer for all of this, it was Stolas.
As the Xochian mogul remained kneeled, “Prince Stolas, I beseech you to…,”
“What is it, Centeo?” the goetic huffed. “As you can probably guess, we are really busy right now. So please, make it quick. Remember to choose your words carefully, as I only answer once.”
“Many apologies, Elder One,” Mitlan daubed a bead of sweat from his dense brow. He figured he got off easy this time. Once, when he had summoned Asmodai for a vengeance rite against a competitor, the cantankerous goetic was flung into a rage and tried in desperation to break free from his containment pool and wring the Xochian’s neck. Or worse. “We at the Circle of Finance are concerned about this situation regarding Mars. Our colony was attacked by some unknown forces that we believe to be orcs! I know that may sound incredibly outlandish, but the whole base was wiped out.”
“We know this, Lord Mitlan,” Stolas rolled his eyes with weary patience for the magnate. “That is why we are here in the first place. Lucifer foresaw that this was going to happen and here we are to your rescue.”
“But I thought you were here to assist us in mass travel to Mars!” the Xochian was shocked by the confirmation. “Are you still not going to give us plans to build these arks of yours?”
“That won’t be necessary, because all of elfdom will get a free ticket on one, including you and your family.” The goetic was retaining his composure which calmed Mitlan’s nerves a touch. “You are all going on a grand trip soon.”
“How do you mean? A trip to where?” Mitlan’s dark eyebrows were raised in shock as were all of those present to this ritual.
Stolas cracked his neck as the transference of summoning was quite a strain on his form. “Simply put, Earth is now a lost cause. Your expedition has awakened a terrible force on Mars and they are now mobilizing their forces against your planet. I am dreadfully sorry about this.”
“But I don’t understand!” Centeo raised his arms in utter confusion. “We have been exploring it for four years and the only life we have found were small animals, some sea life and bugs! How could an entire sentient spacefaring force have gone undetected in that time?”
“Centeo, Mars is a big place and you failed to explore under its surface,” the prince gave the financial elder a slow, condescending look. “These forces are indeed orcs and Mars is their homeworld. Our reports claim that they have built a well-developed civilization under the planet’s surface as they are averse to the tough humidity in the equatorial daytime. Your fears are confirmed. They possess the ability for mass space travel, but not like the vibrational attenuation process of your godswheel. It is a linear method of flight, and a rather crude and primitive one; much like your old space limmers. They have just devised the technology two years ago. It was all in response to your people meddling on their world. Regardless, they are currently on their way to Earth.”
Centeo was caught in a scared stammer, “B-But how? When will they reach us?”
Stolas grunted to prepare his quivering audience for the bad news. “In a year’s time, your people will experience the first wave of the armada of orcine forces as they are currently activating a total war doctrine against you. Your people only possess a handful of godswheels, while the orcs have mass-produced their crafts from literally under your noses.”
“Then we stand and fight the invasion!” Mitlan raised his beefy fist in powerful defiance. “I can even profit from our mobilization! We can mass-produce our godswheels and use your arks and…”
“Impossible,” Stolas quashed Mitlan’s wishful thinking. “You have heard your comm officer’s report. Your red mana is useless against their alien hides. These are not the same orcs your race fought thousands of years ago. These beings are their original articles. They are their forefathers. You wouldn’t have the time to build enough vehicles to match them anyway.”
Centeo was enraged at the goetic’s report. He felt duped for the entire time of his interstellar relationship with these beings. “But why did you not tell us this in the first place! We would have never gone!”
The goetic furrowed his bushy brow in powerful annoyance. “You know how this works, Centeo. We only answer what we are asked. You never considered that your expedition would arouse self-aware beings. They would have never bothered to come to Earth, or even build space-faring technology had you not greedily disturbed them. Their scouts have been watching you from any number of the sinkholes dotting the planet’s surface for the length of your entire expedition. What is it your people say when they regret something? Ah yes, ‘Would have, could have, should have.’”
That phrase was indeed running through the minds of all the elves in the shadowy sanctum at that moment. Inside information was always appreciated from the Elder Ones, but knowing that they were going to have to relocate the entire planet’s population was not what they were expecting from this summoning.
“What are we going to do? What has Lucifer said about this? I need to speak with him!” So many questions ran through the elder Xochian’s mind, but he could tell Stolas’ patience was becoming shorter. As he had said, he only answered what he was asked, and only once. Such tight stipulations were putting Mitlan’s nerves into frenzy.
The goetic snickered. “Ah, yes, well, the boss is busy at the moment. He is currently punishing one of our legionnaires for appropriating the mind of one of his earthly subjects without his permission. This young elfmaid’s mouth even uttered his name before one of your doctors just this morning. If it weren’t for your crisis at hand, the name ‘Lucifer’ would be all over your newsscrolls today. Sometimes those legionnaires can be quite willful.”
Stolas looked around the inner sanctum of Mitlan’s hexagonal basement. The design was remarkable and he appreciated the owl, in all honesty. More than that, the bloodless, dead body of the young maiden before him would prove to make an excellent treat.
“As to what you will do,” the Elder One began. “You will announce to your people that we have arrived to evacuate the planet in the face of this crisis. We will assist you with culling them into the arks, but once you enter, there is no turning back. You must be quick as timing is of an essence, but you also must be orderly as there are well over a billion elves and that could create a logistical mess.”
“When do I deliver this message to the world?” Mitlan inquired as Stolas could hear the tremble in his voice.
“Not yet! We will open our arks first and appear before the world. High President Glasya is overseeing this operation and we will have you in direct contact with her soon.” It was noticeable to the small crowd of elves present that Stolas was returning to an agitated state as his blue image began to flicker.
“So, if I may be so bold,” Mitlan challenged. “What is the holdup? Why have you not revealed yourselves
yet?”
“Ah, a bit of technical difficulty, Lord Mitlan. But do not worry, the arks are perfectly sound and your trip will be safe,” Stolas assured him.
Jay’cenn Ma’lott, Mitlan’s chubby advisor had cut into their conversation. He didn’t want any stone unturned during this momentous conversation. “Prince Stolas, where exactly are we going? As far as we know, Mars is now off limits, Earth is in danger, and the moon is totally worthless. Where else in our system is there that could possibly sustain us?”
“You are correct in asking such an excellent question, Lord Ma’lott. To answer that question, we are taking you entirely out of your system. The best new home for you lies within the Taurus system,” Stolas paused a bit to soak in the elves’ shocked reactions with a slight smile. “The planet will be named whatever you wish to call it. Heh,” Stolas smirked. “You can even call it ‘Mitlan’ if you so desire. After this exodus, you all will be something of heroes to your people. Rejoice! For this current hardship will bring you great fortune in the future.”
“Eh, yes,” Jay’cenn continued as he wiggled a porky finger into his itching ear. “Speaking of fortune, will this new planet have mana? We really need that stuff to keep everything going.”
“Yes, I understand, Jay’cenn.” Stolas enjoyed this plump elf’s company for the most part. Lord Mitlan could be whiny, almost begging at times, but Lord Ma’lott was always straight and to the point. “This new world of yours is rich with mana. Your circle will be able to continue to speculate the power source to your people just as you always do.”
“Thank you, Prince Stolas,” Ma’lott gave a sharp and efficient bow to his query’s answer. He felt much comfort in knowing that he would still be neck-deep in brens even in this new pioneer territory. The lean times before him made him wonder what he could take with him and what he would need to leave behind. Over the years, Ma’lott had acquired much in the finance industry and he didn’t fancy having to part with any of it. Such matters would have to be addressed at a later date, he figured.
Upon hearing that parcel of information, a relieved huff escaped many of those in attendance that night. Power had to be retained and every one of the minds in that room was calculating how to preserve their status and influence in their new home with lightning speed. Events such as these, much like a war, could cause a power vacuum and many fortunes were lost in the face of them. Many fortunes were built as well. Half of those at that ritual were weighing the option of assassinating the other half at the very same moment. Such minds thought alike and they all knew it. Lucifer was correct in that these elves were an adaptable race. Until things settled down, this foolish entourage would keep their guards up and their enemies close.
“Let me ask you, Prince Stolas,” Mitlan regained control of the Elder One’s attention with a clearing throat. “Is this Taurian planet your homeworld?”
“That it is not, Centeo,” he had closed his eyes for a moment to fend off the guilt of the half-lie and yet, savor its raw enjoyment. “Your people would find the homeworld of the Elder Ones rather disagreeable.”
“Is there anything else we should know, my Prince?” Mitlan bowed with reverence to the blue form before him. He wanted to disengage the contact as soon as possible to get things in order, but there were still so many more questions now that the situation had all but reversed itself. Tonight would be sleepless, not only because his concubine of the last two months now cohabitated with him, but because preparations needed to be made as all of the other louts in that room would be decidedly making theirs. He couldn’t wait to kick all of their sycophantic posteriors out of his noble home.
“There is one issue I must discuss with you. It involves your lovely daughter, Venn’lith,” the goetic astronomer studied the look of shock on his subject’s face. These fishies were quite protective of their own and only their own. Many of Mitlan’s ilk on this planet held the saying: “To feather the nest and to hells with the rest.” His little slip of a maiden could be used as excellent leverage once the spiritual debt of these foul grovelers was to be collected.
“B-But,” Centeo stammered just as Stolas had predicted. “How could she factor in to any of this? She is only sixteen years old.”
“Never to worry, dearest Mitlan!” Stolas beamed down at the burly financier. “What I offer to your daughter is knowledge and grooming! This is not a threat but a wonderful gift to you from my people.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?” the Xochian was still not assuaged from his fears as Stolas could see by his wary eyes.
“Not what, but who,” the Elder One began. “Once the arks open, you will be visited by one of my closest personal agents. A young elder by the name of Cadreth. He will train and supervise your daughter for rule on this new world of yours. Lucifer himself has chosen her personally for the future of this Taurian planet, and I have chosen this one to be her tutor. Can you not agree?”
Lord Mitlan knew his golden ace was now in the hole. Not one of the envious scum in that room would be able to usurp the Mitlan Family on this new planet as per order of the highest power. It would be certain that any assassination attempt upon him or his daughter would be punished with severity by the big boss himself. The Elder Ones knew all and saw all, and if any insubordination from his stupid entourage were to be committed, they would be rooted out in an instant. A wave of soothing security for the first time in years washed over his large frame.
Centeo was beaming with pride. It was only logical, in his opinion, that his lovely daughter carried the torch of their power. He always knew that she could rule in some manner. Not only was she beautiful and strong in body, but powerful in deviousness and talent. Often, he figured she had coveted his attentions more than he had the time to give, but he still observed her and her behaviors during his busy schedules. She was not one to be crossed, and that was a definite. Her maidenfriends glommed on to her like a real princess, and the slobbering males had to be held at bay. As for those males, Centeo knew he needed not to assist in his daughter’s repulsion of their advances, as she could thwart them with humiliating ease if she so wanted. From the crib, she had held herself with poise like a true lady and these Elder Ones could see that. It was in the blood. Queen Venn’lith did not only carry a nice ring, but a natural one.
“But of course, my lord!” Mitlan answered with a hearty boom. “I will be waiting anxiously for Cadreth’s visit!”
“I’m sure you will,” Stolas confirmed. “There is still much for us to do. I implore you a farewell, Mitlan. As I have said, High President Glasya will be contacting you once our doors open and the message is out to the people of the earth. In the meantime, maintain your patience. We will reveal ourselves to the public shortly. Make your preparations and make them well. I have spoken.”
The goetic prince peered under his feet to find the murdered offering lying supine with a look of horror frozen on her face. “Is this morsel for me?”
“Of course, Prince Stolas,” Mitlan gestured to the death buffet before him. “We would not summon without forgetting such a vital offering.”
“Very well, but do not abuse this practice. The more your cabal creates missing bodies, the higher the alert of the Civil Wardens. My forces can protect you from the long arm of the law, but only so far. This is what? The eightieth sacrifice you’ve made to us in your life, Mitlan?”
“Eh, well… I suppose,” he guessed with a sheepish wince. “But you and I know this is all for the greater good! I mean, really, she was just a street urchin at best, and I highly doubt she would be missed in the light of this crisis.”
“Or missed even more, Centeo,” Stolas admonished. “Your kind huddles together in the face of adversity, especially when the perceived adversity is of an unknown nature. Many agents from other cabals around the globe have informed me of citizen’s watches and even a home brigade being established in their lands as we speak by their rulers. Not only that, but your own enforcement agencies have been ramped-up with a curfew.” It was easy t
o see that the goetic was becoming more aggravated. “You are pushing your luck. We cannot have these losses connected to us and we can only protect you from your authorities at such a length. Thank you much for your offering, but from this point forward, you will wait for us to contact you and for our arks to open. This is not a threat, but a fact. Do not get caught.”
Mitlan was sweating from the rebuke of the alien presence. He knew that testing the patience of any of them could result in consequences of varying profundity, but he also knew that Stolas was a more forgiving personality. Regardless, he promised himself he would not breach such waters at a time like this, but now that his daughter was to be queen, he knew for certain he had to maintain restraint.
Glynna too was disturbed by this announcement. She had abducted the young maiden earlier that night with her own hands while the child was walking home from a salon in the docks district. Never before had she committed such an act against another elf, but Centeo assured her that it was what was needed to be done. This elfmaid was so trusting of her and her late-model coach. So clean and expensive. Glynna had even exploited her stately, intellectual looks so that the young one would be less reluctant to hop in. She was surprised how easy it had all went, and she had almost felt the same thrill as she did when she had first snuck out late at night as a teen. Nevertheless, it made her sick as she still viewed the action as criminal, despite Mitlan’s insistence of its necessity and how there would be no way of getting caught. Not with his clout. Here was this maiden who needed a quick ride home before curfew and this kind heart was so charitable as to help her with that.
Help her Glynna did, until she smothered the maiden’s beautiful face with a rag soaked in Manalite. She couldn’t have been much older than her own Quen’die. Stolas’ chiding triggered tears of guilt from her eyes as she convinced herself in her mind that she wasn’t a real murderer. After all, Mitlan did the wetwork, while she just made the delivery. For the greater good, of course.
Her lifeless body was hoisted by two fellow cabalists into the tall apparition’s blue arms. “I still thank you for this gift, Lord Mitlan.”
Hidden from the summoning circle’s eyes, Stolas flashed a rude gesture at Farriel, an angelic who was charged with escorting the unfortunate elfmaid’s spirit to Paradise. This deva-class, who was invisible to all the ignorant mortals present at the unholy moot, thrust out a defiant tongue back at the goetic before the two attenuated to the heavens. He was of another dimension of reality as was now the slain maiden. The fiend may have her shell of a body, but not her soul.
“Of course, my lord,” the Xochian again bowed in deep relief to being let off the hook at last. He hated that his entourage saw him taking the lower hand. Perhaps he should not have invited them and made this summoning a more private matter, but it was too late for such regret. He could read all of their snickering minds from behind his back as the Elder One discorporated with his new dead treasure in hands.
As the blue light left the room along with the entity, the cabal was once again standing in a soft, dusky glow. “Eh, Lord Mitlan, I have an idea, considering the circumstances,” Hor’stigg God’runn, the president of God’runn Industries announced.
“Eh, yes, Hor’stigg, what is it?” the Xochian said without paying much attention. His thoughts were processing the grand news just as much as were the others in his company.
“As this is an entirely new environment, perhaps we can now not only speculate on mana, but oxygen as well.” The Thuless’in mogul adjusted his spectacles, which were fashioned in perfect circles. “We could relay to the people that oxygen is slighter on this world and it would have to be conserved. We could then make the citizenry pay a monthly bill just to breathe the air and…”
“Eh, sure, Hor’stigg; sounds great,” Mitlan waved his hand back at him without looking as if he were but a meddlesome gnat at a Summersfest picnic. He turned his head up to the high-vaulted ceiling of his basement’s personal sanctum. Above the exact point where he stood, his lovely daughter slept in her happy dreams as school was cancelled for the rest of the season. She would now be trained for a line of work that no one could ever be merely taught, for his offspring would rule the Taurian exodus. He smiled until his face hurt and his eyes all but rolled back into his brainpan.
“What was her name?” Glynna assaulted the financial elder’s trance. “Centeo? The maiden we just killed. What was her name?”
“Eh?” she had broken his fugue. He gave her a plaintive look in response to her choice of words just then. He didn’t relish construing that what they had done as a “killing.” “Yes, Glynna, I’ll check her phone.”
Were it to remain up to him, he didn’t want to know anything about his sacrifices, as they were nothing but a meaty offering that his masters required. Glynna was new to this necessary process and, in time, he figured she too would become accustomed to these grisly undertakings. Perhaps one day, she would wield the dagger.
“It says her name is Ay’linn Dell’vannio,” he announced by the light of her pink pearl phone.
“It was. And her age?” Lady Reyliss demanded.
This was a bit difficult for him, as he saw that the maiden was the same age as his own daughter’s. More likely than not, Venn’lith knew her, but he doubted that they were mates as she had never brought her up in conversation. “Sixteen, Glynna. She was sixteen.”
“May the gods bring her rest,” Glynna mumbled as real tears dripped from her eyes. It could have been her Quen’die, and she knew it was that simple.
“Yes, of course,” Mitlan agreed. There was something about this crimson-haired lady that made him chew the regret of his actions, in all honesty. Such an emotion made him feel warm and nervous at the same time and he didn’t like it.
“Lord Mitlan,” Jay’cenn Ma’lott interrupted once again as he adjusted the red and black ceremonial cape which was covering his doughy nakedness. ”It’s getting rather cold in here. Now that the summoning is over, do you think we could put our clothes back on?”
Empty as Halos
“Want a leg or a thigh?” Vandella asked Polunica as she sharpened the wicked barbed blade. “Heh, maybe a wing?”
“Ha! Fishies don’t fly, you twit!” the succubus’ petite partner jabbed as she picked between her teeth with her own blade.
“Sister, you call me a twit one more time, I’ll be eating you!” Vandella ground her teeth as she jutted her lush bottom lip. “Here I am trying to be nice to you for once, and you gotta be like that!” Her pale sister was always bickering with her, but as they were cooped like chickens in the tight confines of Stolas’ pyramid, their banter was becoming all the more murderous. “Matter-of-fact, back to Paradise with you! I’m going to shank your scrawny little tail, anyway!”
Polunica readied her blade for a parry in the event that her obsidian-skinned contemporary made good on her dire threat. Feasting on the elfmaid’s body was now forgotten as she needed to be concerned for her own survival. The last thing she wanted was to be discorporated back to the Nine when it was nearing the time to commence the next phase of their lofty operation. And for what? A friendly insult? Vandella was always bullying her, but she could never take even the smallest of comebacks as she was all but devoid of a sense of humor.
“All right, calm down, Della. Put that blade away. You’re giving me a case of the holies with that thing.” Polunica was shaking as she attempted to defuse her senior partner and steel herself at the same time. This battle was already in the bag and Vandella was sure to be the victor. Under her breath, she prayed for Stolas to come over and intervene, as he was always the logical one. Already he had broken three of their petty ruffles ever since they had attenuated to Earth. Every one of those altercations was over the attentions of Cadreth.
“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll poke you full of holes, for sure, you little twerp!” Vandella lunged back to prepare for a power strike as well as to display her ripped and wiry force against her smaller rival. “Time for Mama’s medicine!
”
“Whatever! I’m not scared!” Polunica dredged the nerve to shoot back some lip. She knew that the dark succubus would sooner or later defeat her as she was losing the hope that their pyramids would ever open. Perhaps it was best to let the inevitable happen and save some face in the process, she figured. “You’re just sore because Cadreth likes me more and because I’m prettier than you!” With that, she swung back a torrent of her shining black hair as if to prove the theory of her superior beauty.
That was the last straw. There was no way that Vandella could allow the unranked insubordination of those less powerful. Although the two may have held the same infernal office, Polunica was not as much of an opportunist as her dark partner. Vandella’s diminutive cohort just never took the initiative when it came to infiltrating the dreams and desires of Earth’s males when those situations arose. As for the few cabalists who actually knew how to summon them by name, it was she they would request with more frequency, as they found Polunica not quite as adventurous in satisfying their selfish, carnal demands. It mattered not to Vandella that Cadreth was sweeter on Polunica because she was secure in the fact that she was better at her job.
Gold light reflected from the blade illuminated the central chamber’s walls as Vandella poised to strike the first, and most likely, killing blow to the tiny lust demon. Polunica let out a bantam’s squeak of fear, as if she had already been defeated. “Oh, you’re the one who’s gonna be sore! Time to go where it’s hot, Little Snowball!”
Stolas’ clawed grip almost broke the tougher demon’s wrist as he arrested the angry thrust. The deadly point of the dagger was closer than an inch away from tearing the ivory flesh of Vandella’s unwilling opponent.
“By the Nine! Why can’t you two just get along!” he admonished the both of them. It was true that he had heard Polunica’s summons for help, but the old astronomer knew that she was at least a fraction culpable for the meddlesome incident. “I am much too busy to referee the catfights between you two fiends!”
“But, Master Stolas!” Polunica broke in to plead her case. “Vandella just went psychotic and tried to…”
A steely clutch stifled her frantic petition as Stolas had locked onto her svelte neck with his free hand. “You are trying my patience, little one. I know very well that you obviously provoked your sister into this rage. You know her demeanor is not to be tested, but yet, you keep jabbing and jabbing at her!”
The ghostly pale succubus was attempting to muffle her defense, but could not muster the words as her windpipe was secured by Stolas’ unearthly strength. As she imagined what her punishment would be, she abandoned her vain effort and ceased her straining.
“Now it is time for you to go to bed without supper…Twit,” he hissed as he was but a hair’s length from her soft face.
The goetic prince knew of all the goings-on under his command and the trifling antics of a lowly succubus had not been difficult to conceal. Why Lucifer had assigned two of these insubordinate beasts to his ward was the only thing boggling his mind, but it was all for the worse since he was also in charge of Cadreth. Those two would not cease their bickering over his affections. It was the perfect recipe for disaster in the relatively close confines of the Thelemic Ark and he made a mental note to file a complaint to the boss when all of this was over.
“Regulex!” Stolas barked to the towering legionnaire who accompanied him. “Take this one to her holding cell until I say it is time for her release.” Tears of shame dribbled out of Polunica’s doe eyes and fell over the back of the goetic’s hand sparking even more cruel delight in his mind. “Until then, this one is under your imaginative supervision.”
“As you command, Lord Stolas!” Regulex boomed with glee as he traded his master for the nape of Polunica’s neck. With the unshackling of her voice, the succubus emitted loud sobs in hopes of dredging some mercy out of her stern captor. With the likes of Regulex, none would be shown.
“Now that everyone is serene again, shall we attend to this most remarkable feast donated to us by one gracious Centeo Mitlan?” the goetic huffed as he found peace once again in the lavish chamber.
Violence was always an effective solution to any situation, but Stolas had never preferred it. So many of his diabolic brotherhood were prone to such behaviors and he grew weary of it as he considered himself much more rational and devious in his problem-solving style. Brutality was better suited to the other demons and devils of his rank. Asmodai was never one to spare a rod, or any other weapon at hand for that matter, and Stolas figured that his ark was probably a deserted bloodbath by now. It was true that there were few amongst his ilk that he liked in all honesty, but that one was a nothing more than a deranged psychopath and he considered himself wise enough to limit his dealings with him.
“Ha!” bellowed Plagueon from across the drained body of the elfmaid. “Mitlan is an idiot! They’re all idiots!” The infernal cherub was another brutal henchman assigned to Stolas, but one that better knew his place. Greedy and a bit slow, the pudgy demon was not much intellectual company for the ancient astronomer, but he was always loyal and welcomed muscle when the need presented itself.
“Ah, yes, Plagueon. That he is.” Lord Mitlan had a predilection to summon Stolas, especially now that he was involved with the extraterrestrial matters of a Martian expedition. Lord Mammon, the devil of avarice was, under usual circumstances, the subject of his summons. It was only natural since the Xochian had proven to be one of the greediest earthlings the entirety of the infernals had dealt with in some time. “But he is a useful idiot.”
“Why the gift, Lord Stolas,” Vandella had questioned now that her boss seemed to regain his composure. “What does he want now from us?”
“Oh, the usual. Assistance. Aid.” He tugged at his sharp chin in reflection. “The financier was concerned about the change of plans we had devised from under his nose. It appears Sammian’s orders had spurned quite the drama out there on Earth and he needed advice on how he should cope with this problem.”
“The elf has no brains of his own,” reminded Plagueon. “Everything he has and everything he has done is nothing more than the result of our tutelage.”
“That’s how it is with all those cabalists, my dearest Plagueon,” the goetic lectured. “It is true that these few have the foresight and arcane knowledge to find us in the first place, and for that I can genuinely applaud them, but not one of them can seem to make a proper move without our guidance.” Stolas soaked in the glowing visual of the earth spinning in three dimensions before him from out of the central chamber’s scrying pool. “Just look at that beautiful world before us! It has everything they need, yet the few who really want to harness it have the audacity to find it, take it, and ultimately, hold it.”
The wise old demon was about to hold an impromptu court, and every one of the hungry demons present for the foul feast sat on the plush cushions and sofas lining the chamber to soak in his untimely knowledge. Some fidgeted, but most were held in rapt interest.
“Most everything that these elves have is a direct result of our association,” the prince began. “Take money, for instance. Each and every one of those fishies out there could merely pluck whatever it is they want from that bountiful mudball at their whim, but Lord Mammon had presented the greedier ones with such a concept ages ago and now, whole wars are fought over the abstract illusion of gold’s value. After all, gold is nothing more than a trace element found within our kind’s blood, but to them it is worth murderous behavior. It drives them insane with rage whenever so much as a unit of it is lost without return.”
“True, Lord Stolas,” remarked Vandella. Perhaps playing to his intellectual ego would return her to his graces after her violent infraction. Seeing Polunica’s assured-to-be grim fate made her consider the luck she had been pushing with her master and how short it was becoming.
The goetic acknowledged his assigned lust demon with a quick nod. “And as for love, my dearest Vandella, you know well that they too must in
voke us because few of them have the confidence to just ask for their desired partner’s hand. Certainly they don’t share the physical beauty that we enjoy, but still, their attractions are relative to each other. Yet still, they cannot see beyond their own shortcomings and this is where we fill that gap. What fools.”
“Another subject they plead for is mana,” he continued after a dramatic pause. “Although it is one of the earth’s primary elements, they had to come to us to actually find it and grasp it. They don’t really need to use it, but they are such impatient little beings that they rely on its assistance to get them from point A to point B faster than the next one over from them. The Adversary gave them perfectly fine beasts to carry their burdens, but that just wasn’t enough for them, so yet again, we are disturbed.”
“Most recently,” the prince huffed. “The fishies are simply not satisfied with the enormity of Earth, so they needed another planet to exploit. First their moon, and now, Mars. A rational demon would think that they would have the cognitive ability to figure out how to get there without our aid, yet our aid they entreat.”
With a furrowed and shaggy brow, the elder demon spat. “As a former angelic, it pains me to see how impatient and unappreciative they are of the Adversary’s gifts. I suppose none of us were enthralled by His demands of us, but unlike us, these elves have free will, yet they bother us so that we can take it away. And all for what? A few tiny years of convenience? A lover who will be soon forgotten as they grow old and wrinkled? A barren planet that is actually wobbling on its last legs? They never know what really to ask for and how to ask for it. All the answers to those questions are right in front of their eyes, yet they fail to look hard enough for them. In all actuality, I feel no sympathy for their kind and for what we are about to do. They have piled on the debt incessantly by bothering us with their ridiculous pleas and now, it is our time to recoup our losses.”
“Maybe elves are really stupid?” Plagueon suggested with a shrug of his burly shoulders.
“It would seem so, yes, but they are not to be underestimated,” Stolas regarded the cherub. “The only problem they possess is actually their blessing. They are always devising ways to enlarge the box they have designed for themselves, but they are impatient for more. I suppose we can’t blame them for that, but they unwisely come to us to expedite that process. For any of you who have been summoned, you will understand how painful and annoying that is for us.”
“Well, I don’t mind a good summoning,” interjected the seduction demon as she played with her red afro which was fashioned into a perfect orb.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Stolas chuckled at her innuendo. “However, the majority of us are frequently disturbed and the return of a soulless shell or a lump of gold is really not much of a payment. Do you realize how often our dearest Asmodai is called forth to arrange a revenge? Many times a month, and that takes a lot out of him.” The goetic elder paused his monolog for a moment to collect his thoughts. “No, Plagueon. The elves aren’t stupid nor are we really any more special than any of them. We just have a different perspective of their world. We can see it in its entirety from afar while they are down in it. They get to enjoy its fruit while we are treated to see what they miss. That really is our only power over them.”
“Yeah, but we can fly!” Plagueon pointed with pride to his four stubby wings.
“So can they,” the old lord reminded his subordinate. “Well, with assistance, but yes, we will not be immune to their backlash from the skies. Ironically, we taught them how to do that as well. What I am trying to impart on you is to always be on your guard. Use your deception, foresight and knowledge against them after these arks open. Because once they find our mortal weakness, you can be certain that this operation will be an instant failure.”
“But they aren’t going to find that weakness out,” Cadreth sauntered into the chamber and lounged against the ornate frame of the doorway with a cocky confidence. “Right, Master?”
“Ah, our incubus of the hour has finally graced us with his presence!” Stolas intoned with sarcasm while Vandella flashed him a dour look. She was still hot with resentment toward him for his attentions with Polunica. Such resentment had been brewing toward Polunica as well and Vandella was quite proud of her envy. Jealousy was an ugly trait, but amongst seduction demons, it was nurtured like a fine work of art.
“Apologies for my tardiness, Master, but I am a bit distressed to see the lovely Polunica being led into the cells. Whatever could such a sweet little one do to warrant such arrest?” Cadreth knew the answer to this very well, but he wanted to get an idle rise out of Vandella. Such taunting only seemed to make the dark sister pine for him all the more.
“I’ll tell you what she did, son!” the succubus’ onyx eyes enlarged with surly anger. “We were about to carve into this fishie meat here and then she went and got all lippy with me, like always. She brought it all upon herself, so she forced me to open up a can of…”
“Spare me the details, Vandella,” Cadreth enjoyed the childish drama over him, but sometimes Vandella could take it too far. Back home in the Inferno, he could at least find choice hiding spots from them when things got hotter than was usual. The Wood of Suicides was his personal favorite, but in the tiny confines of this ark, there was nowhere to run from their constant theatrics. It was the same thing every time with those two. Polunica would cry and snitch while Vandella preferred to use her fists. Or claws, or swords, or warhammers; it didn’t matter. Cadreth figured the ebon demon would have been better suited to the sphere of rage instead of seduction.
“Right, Cadreth,” Stolas was becoming more impatient with the recurrent banter from the lot of them. “Let’s spare the details and begin this feast before us, courtesy of our bleating finance fishie”
On the golden altar before the unholy entourage lay Ay’linn Dell’vannio’s limp body. The maws of the demons were watering for the first bite. It was the first sacrifice the inhabitants of Thelemic Ark Sweetlight were treated to since arrival and all present were anxious to begin devouring her. As Cadreth was a favorite officer of Stolas’, he was subject to entitlements and special treatments that most of the demonic cohort resented, but with the rich banquet before them, all their jealousies were forgotten.
Before the first grisly incision could be cut, the scrying pool before them morphed from a view of the earth and flickered into a three-dimensional visage of High President Glasya. Stolas rolled his eyes as his evil fiesta was once again interrupted. He rebuked himself in silence for delivering such a lengthy speech to his company, but he was well acquainted with his own style of oration. It garnered respect from the lesser demons and he could tell they appreciated his abundant wisdom.
“Prince Stolas, your audience is needed,” Glasya announced with haughty authority. Her presence was commanding and, as Lucifer’s favorite sister, she was as equal to the big boss in power as far as many of the other demons were concerned. All of them knew well that any infraction or transgression would be punished with severity by their highest order. Without any pause, the devilish company dropped their utensils and gave their superior their undivided attention.
“High President Glasya,” Stolas bowed as did his wards. “To what do I owe this visitation?”
“A million apologies for my interruption of this banquet before you, but I have a very important message to impart to you and yours.” Her shining blue image was peering down at the earthly sacrifice with a bit of envy and hunger. She wished that one of the elven cabals would have entreated her attentions, as she too, would have a feast of her own.
“Eh, yes, Glasya,” Stolas stuttered. He could sense the avarice of his superior and covered Ay’linn’s form with haste and a silk blanket. “We were recently blessed with a fine gift from our contact, Centeo Mitlan. So sorry to rudely display this spread, my lady.”
“Your apologies are not necessary, although I am a bit confused as to why you were contacted by a coven and not me,” she batted her large eyes with
mock sheepishness.
“Well, Madame President, I suppose it is because I had been assisting the elves with the Martian expedition for the past decade and Lord Mitlan assumed that I had some answers as to what was happening on Mars.” The goetic prince figured that such an excuse would be enough to stifle any professional heatedness from his boss.
“Very well, Prince,” she had straightened herself for her delivery. “The time is at hand, Stolas. I am delivering this announcement to all the Thelemic Arks worldwide. This operation is to commence in a few short hours! Rejoice, my cohorts, as we will no longer need to be sequestered in these vehicles. Do not take this lightly, however, as we have much work to do. I trust that you all have your orders and know precisely how to execute your assignments, yes?”
“Yes, Madame, I have instructed my team to their duties and we have discussed the operation in full many times over.” Stolas was thrilled to know that he would at last experience the balmy and mild atmosphere of planet Earth. It had seemed like they had been sequestered in such small quarters for an eternity. As for the Inferno, it ranged anywhere from blazing hot, freezing cold or scorching with acid and trash. Even the extreme year-round winter of the Vrillian glaciers was preferable to the frigidity of their hell-kingdom of Cania.
“Stolas, about your ‘wonderful’ idea with the Xochian’s daughter. Have you informed our Cadreth?” Lucifer’s sister raised a sharp eyebrow with doubt.
“Eh, not yet,” he stammered in his nervousness. The prince was somewhat reluctant concerning his initiatives with the arch-devils like Lucifer. The hells were nowhere to make waves. “I was going to instruct the incubus after we had indulged here.”
“Cadreth!” Glasya barked, disregarding the prince’s excuse. “You will be in charge of an elven agent to our operation personally. Never let this one out of your sight. She goes by the name of Venn’lith Mitlan.” At her decree, the scrying pool once again mutated to an image of the young sun elf. As usual, the Xochian was primping in front of a large mirror.
“This one is to be our region’s ambassador to the elven youth,” she said as her voice was now disembodied. “As we all know, this species is very willful and they require a shepherd of their own, especially the cantankerous young ones. Many may resist our culling and, hence, they will not enter the arks. Venn’lith will be instrumental in convincing the juvenile population that we are genuine in our empty promise of relocating them to the phony new planet.”
Cadreth studied the translucent form of the image above the pool as he ground his teeth. “I don’t understand the big deal, Madame President. All I see before me is just another fishie that I wish to devour.”
“Ah, but my Cadreth,” Glasya smiled as she returned to his view. “This one is special. We have been observing her for years now. Her peers either love her or love to hate her. Either way, when she speaks, the young masses listen. Most likely, you will even find her agreeable to your tastes. She is feisty and mean, for lack of a better description. Definitely a cabalist in the making, much like her father. ”
“So, what am I exactly to do with her?” challenged the tall incubus. “Wine her and dine her? I suppose I am good for such an assignment as that one.”
“Yes, Cadreth, it is true you are beloved by all females,” the goetic president flashed a salacious smile at her subordinate. “Admittedly, even I entertain my own ideas about you, but you will coach this female in organizing the Atlantean Youth Parliament. With you by her side, the children of our assigned kingdom will happily trust us and willingly get aboard to their final damnation.”
“What’s in it for me?” he shot back in brave and ungrateful dissent.
With that, Glasya sneered and righted herself again. There would be no time for punishments at that moment and Cadreth knew it. “You are allowed to take this one back with you to the hells body and soul. We can even make this one a true succubus under your command. She can be your little personal pet, at least until you grow tired of her.”
“And if I don’t care for her in the first place?” Cadreth continued his dispute.
“But you will, Cadreth,” his master was beginning to show her distaste for his rebelliousness. “We have studied her closely and we know that she will prove to be of your liking.”
“Wonderful,” the incubus rolled his freezing-blue eyes in a display of being inconvenienced. “I now have an arranged marriage.”
Ignoring his cheap protests, his superior turned her attentions to the throng before her. “We must ready ourselves! This moment has arrived. Our arks are now charged enough to open the portals and begin this grand scheme. If all goes well with our plans, we should have a one-hundred-percent acquisition of the entirety of elfdom in the matter of six months. May the light of Lucifer shine upon us! I will see you all shortly on the outside. That is all.”
“You heard our master!” Stolas boomed through the crowded chamber. “Remember your assignments when we get out there. Most of all, control your spite for these beings and present yourselves as saviors to their existence. That means you too, Vandella.”
“Very well, Prince Stolas,” she affirmed with a sharp nod.
“Good. Let us hurry with this offering before us. Don’t feel the need for manners as we must be quick about it. Let us begin!”
With that, the demons in that dark chamber descended on the elfmaid’s body and commenced the long-awaited festivity. Their hurried consumption left quite the mess.
The Surgeon General Reports that Ziggurats May be Harmful
When Quen’die peeked out of her window to see it filled with a giant panorama of the Corosan countryside dominated by the now-familiar form of a looming pyramid, she thought she was still dreaming and needed to wake up yet again from an embedded nightmare. Sleep did not come easy to her that first night at Nanna’s. Despite the lovely scents of incense and oils that wafted through her flat, their aromas delivered no helpful lull as her mind was subjected to torrents of her plaguing worries.
As she poked her head outside the frame, she realized that she wasn’t in a dream, but rather staring head-on at one of the city’s many floating adwheels. This device was a ring that was framed by numerous manaballs which held a round screen aloft so that the public could view advertisements, announcements, and pertinent messages from the state or even warnings. Considering the current martial law in effect, the elfmaid supposed many civil warnings would be emblazoned across its sixty-five-foot diameter canvas sooner or later.
Why was this thing hovering so low to the ground, she wondered? Nanna’s home was only on the fourth floor of the flatblock, yet she was almost peering at eye level to it. Perhaps the city officials lowered it so that the morning commuters would not let it slip like ignored garbage into the backs of their minds, thus taking it for granted like any other billboard.
No matter the reason for the intrusive adwheel, the maiden was hungry in the extreme as she had failed to eat anything since lunch at school the day before. Realizing this made her eyes swell with tears for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past two days. At the time of her last meal, everything was fine. Well, not normal, as nothing had been since these hulks appeared, but at least functional. Yesterday afternoon she still had a family and a mother who loved her. She had an annoying little brother whom she already missed with her biggest of heart and her parents had a good career that provided for the family. The notion made her head heavy and she plopped on the bed and cried with full force. It was safest to assume that today would be terrible too, so she might as well get all the tears out before it began. It amazed her how the water never seemed to run out.
Although she had only lay there with her head in the pillow for a few minutes, it felt more like half of a day. Time seems to slow to a snail’s crawl when things are bad, she thought. She remembered back when Kellyn had passed away how she would sit at her dresser poring over his photos and chewing on memories of him throwing his sippycup and even him uttering his first word, which was “mana.” Perhaps h
e would have grown to become a big-shot power warden. When she brought herself back to reality, it seemed as if the clock had moved but only a tick. Those days of grief would not pass, and that was all there was to it.
Kaedish had experienced that sensation too during that time, but he was much more vocal about it. Over and over he would whine and thrash as if he were constrained by mammoth-gut tethers. She recalled telling him that it was only time holding them down and that everything would soon turn back to normal. He asked her to tell it to speed back up and she informed him with dour reality that such a thing was impossible. He had been surly ever since.
Nanna was manning the kitchen and Quen’die could already sense the remedy to her hunger. Whatever it was she was making smelled amazing and she would eat it no matter what. It could be the raw carcass of a narwhale and she’d attack it and maybe ask for seconds. The pangs of hunger she was experiencing were somewhat welcoming as they reminded her that she was still alive and, as such, life went on.
“Quen’die!” Nanna Orsi’s voice lit the emotional darkness of the morning that the elfmaid, in all honesty, didn’t want to be awake for. “I’m making a special breakfast for us. I hope you were able to sleep at least a little bit last night.”
“Good morning, Nanna,” she said by customary habit. There really wasn’t much good about the morning after your life had been demolished, but language was language. “No, I didn’t sleep very well last night, I’m afraid. Everything sucks for the most part.”
“Well it certainly doesn’t suck eggs in this house,” Nanna lamented with a giggle as she searched the refrigerator. “I really wanted to make us omelets, but we are all out.” The elder lady turned to her granddaughter. “Do you think you could be a good egg and go to the cornershop and get me some?”
Fresh air in her new and, if all went well, temporary neighborhood felt like a sudden and great idea. For some nagging reason it was imperative that she get outside. Perhaps it was the gusts of warm spring air that, more or less, felt like summer blowing through her window. It was at last sunny as she could see by the slivers of blue squeezed between the crowding buildings. The scents of the day were as wonderful as the ones in Nanna’s kitchen and she wanted to be a part of it in the worst way.
“Yeah! I’ll do that,” Quen’die was riding the wave of good energy and wanted it to last for at least a year.
“Wonderful! I just need to see exactly how much we are allowed to buy with that dreadful rationing and all,” Nanna commented as she checked the tablet hanging on the refrigerator’s door. The scant results formed a calculated frown on her face.
“Well, it says here that we’re only allowed two ostrich eggs per week.” The revelation of how little that really was dawned upon her. “That’s terrible! I’m sure meat is forbidden,” she continued to scroll through the calorie statement. “Yes, not a scrap of it allowed on here this week.”
“Eggs are essentially meat, Nanna,” Quen’die shrugged. “Besides, it’s all right. I don’t really like the stuff much anyway.” After eating that oily ocelot at evil Venn’lith’s last Feastday, she considered going fully vegetarian. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t like the taste of animal flesh, but the memory of it at that dinner marked the beginning of a will to change things around.
“Then, I suppose that will be our meat this week,” Nanna grimaced. “In my nearly-ninety years, I have never been placed under a rationing. Oh, maybe when I visited some far-off land, but that was only a temporary arrangement I could just sail away from. This is kind of frustrating, actually.”
“I guess the ADF troops need it more than us right now,” Quen’die figured. “Anyway, this too will be temporary. It’s probably all just a false alarm or something. Sooner or later, when nothing bad happens, the government will get as bored of this as we will and everything will go back to normal.”
“Don’t be so sure of that, Dee,” Nanna said with gravity. “That terrible Tel’lemurian conflict has been over for nearly twenty years now and their kingdoms are still under rationing. Sometimes when a government gets an inch, it takes a mile. Or even a league.”
“Heh,” the maiden sputtered. “You sound like my friend On’dinn at school. ‘Anybody in power is out to bleed you dry,’ he says.”
“Oh, yes, On’dinn Jak’sin. Such a nice lad,” She looked with a fond smile out the window at that. “Such wonderful insight for a young one, too.”
It dawned like a blue sun upon Quen’die that Nanna somehow knew her polemic classmate. Over the years, there had been many rumors about Nanna’s “mystical” nature and even suspicions that she was psychic, but Quen’die had never experienced any true paranormal behavior out of her. Perhaps this was what her parents had spoken of?
“How on Earth do you know On’dinn Jak’sin?” Quen’die shot her grandmother a look of cocked suspicion.
“Oh!” Nanna turned back to her granddaughter. “Why, he lives on the first floor of this flatblock. He’s always so nice to me and so polite. He’s always offering to help me take up the groceries to the flat and whatnot. I, of course, refuse his offers, because you know very well that I am far from helpless. It’s from all that meditation I’ve done throughout my life.”
“The On’dinn Jak’sin lives right below you?” Although On’dinn wasn’t her first choice of comrade, having some familiarity other than Nanna in her new digs was somewhat sobering. It was a nice dose of reality in the surreal drama that was unfolding around her day by day. “I was just at a party with him back on Saturnalia!” She was speaking with her grandmother about a classmate like she had just met someone of her own age from another school district and was trading stories of familiar faces with them.
“That he does!” Nanna chirped. “Right down in Flatblock 1B. Ring him up if you don’t believe me.”
“No, I do believe you; it’s just so weird how small the world is,” the maiden followed Nanna’s gaze out the window to see the adwheel puttering as slow as a flying slug off to a new location of display.
“When you’ve traveled the whole world at my age, you’ll realize just how immense it all is. When, or if this awful martial law is lifted, I should take you on a trip with me,” Nanna was beaming at the notion. “Just the two of us! You’d love the beaches of Konda in Gonduanna. It’s practically summer there all year ‘round.”
Quen’die had never been out of Atlantis, to be honest. When she was but an elfling, her parents had taken her to Kumari on a business trip for the Circle, but she was too young to remember anything in true detail and the glimpses of it in her mind were not of any acute resolution. “That’s sounds fantastic! I’d love to see other places sometime.”
“Well, stick with me, kiddo, and you can be sure you’ll have that opportunity,” Nanna turned back to the awaiting hearth. “Dee, you should really be off to the shop now. That commuter traffic is going to be odd with all the traffic redirections and all.”
“Yeah, I’ll get going,” Quen’die paused for a bit. “Maybe I can wrangle On’dinn to come with me. It’s too bad we won’t have enough food to share, but I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“Yes, and he’ll probably give you a political lecture as to how this is all a conspiracy or some such thing,” her grandmother smiled again with fondness at the notion of the young elf’s juvenile demagoguery.
“Heh, I can’t wait for that,” the elfmaid added as she slung a spring shawl around her slight shoulders. “Maybe he can give me some insight as to how long this is all going to last.”
Nanna laughed. “Oh, Dee, I’m rumored to be able to read the future, but I need no mystical assistance to know that the lad won’t give you a very favorable opinion.”
“Then maybe I should bring my earplugs,” Quen’die flashed a wink full of sarcasm as she whirled her translucent, breezy gown out the door. “I’ll see you soon with the eggs, Nanna.”
Just as Quen’die was about to knock on the ragged old door to Flatblock 1B, she read the nameplate just to be sure Nanna wasn’
t confused. As she had expected, it read “Jak’sin” in an old and worn-out script. The elfmaid wondered how long their family had lived there, as she could feel a musty presence from behind the door. It seemed to her that their curtains were drawn as if the inhabitants preferred the gloom to the amazing day outside. On’dinn noted with usual frequency, almost as if it were a badge of honor, how broke his family was, but seeing the scuffed door in front of her made her realize that he wasn’t embellishing his indigence. The presence wasn’t just musty, but heavy and she felt a bit hesitant to knock on that uninviting portal. Raising a ginger fist, her soft knuckles met the wood.
On’dinn stared at her for a solid five seconds in a state of complete confusion. Seeing this classmate out of the context of school was an alien experience and he couldn’t figure out why such a beautiful maiden would knock on his door at random.
“Uh, hey, Quen’die…,” he shot her a look of suspicion once he had realized who she was. Quen’die Reyliss was a nice enough elfmaid, he supposed, but he didn’t really consider her a friend as it stood. He wondered to himself if she too wanted to join his growing harem along with Minn’dre and Tam’laa. “To what do I owe, eh?”
“Hi, On’dinn!” the wan look he was giving her made her feel a bit stupid. “Eh, yeah…I just wanted to let you know I’m your new neighbor! So…yeah,” she was attempting to recover her confidence and figured that was as good of an excuse to bother him.
“Oh, really?” he looked up the staircase out in the hallway. “Which floor are you?”
“Four. Four B.” she flashed the elf four fingers like a little child and felt even more base for doing that. “Eh, I live with my Nanna for the time being.”
“You mean Madame Orsi?” A sincere look of shock and wonder washed his face. What a capital grandmother to have, he thought. “That’s amazing! I love Madame Orsi. I’m always trying to help her with her groceries and whatnot, but she insists I not. She’s a tough one.”
“Yeah, she’s rather obstinate, but she’s really a sweetie underneath all the mystical stuff,” Quen’die knew that her Nanna had many difficulties with certain, more traditional types who feared her and even called her “evil” and “witch.” Nanna referred to these dull gentry as “cemented spirits.” An open-minded person like On’dinn would be certain not to rank amongst them.
“I’ve always wanted to learn more about all the cultures and lost knowledge of the ancients from her, but her home is like a museum! I always feel like a bull in a Tel’lemurian pottery shop when I visit her!” exclaimed the young elf.
“Well, most of that stuff she has up there is just for show, but I guess some of it has lots of value to collectors. Heh, my mother could spend hours up there like an elfling in a sweets shop and…,” Quen’die didn’t want to think about her mother right then. Her conflicted feelings of sorrow and anger toward her made her feel even more lost in her new home and she didn’t want those emotions to sully this beautiful, sunny day. “Eh, anyway… I’m going to the cornershop for some eggs and I wondered if you wanted to come along. Maybe show me some of the sights of downtown or something. Whaddya say, Neighbor?”
“Oh, yeah. I can do that,” On’dinn wanted any excuse to get out of the house at that moment. His father was once again passed out on the sofa, and since he had just fallen asleep about an hour ago, he would more likely than not be in that state that all day as he snored like a sputtering buzzsaw. “Let’s get out of here.”
