Sprite
Even in the daylight she could see them.
Yet another advantage to living deep in the Forest. The night sky and all the wonders it revealed remained visible in the day time hours. Muted, but visible, still.
And so she saw it rise again after all these years.
Blue Star.
An age had passed since she last beheld it.
An age since the inverse portal pulsed in the ground beneath her feet.
An age since the last Veil Siren. That had been the Fourth.
This one, now, was the Fifth.
All thought the first four had failed. But they had not. They had succeeded. They had done exactly what they were supposed to do in paving the way for this one.
This one, this Fifth Veil Siren, she had it all to do before her. No matter what had been prepared for her, her task were great. And difficult. And there were no guarantees. Ever. For any of them.
But if she failed had she not succeeded on a different level? Did it not simply mean that a different master plan was now in play? When all beings exist in a realm of endless possibilities, can there ever be failure? Can it even exist?
The inverse portal buzzed angrily underneath her and Moethiica loped sideways and spun a little faster, on its axis, in response.
Outside of the Forest, the more aware would have had felt an odd sensation, and perhaps a moment of giddiness.
Here, within the Forest however, the world spun and loped like a wild hurdy-gurdy ride.
She laughed delightedly and stamped her feet on the ground.
The inverse portal had a successful outcome in mind for itself, that was for certain.
It was getting louder by the day. It hummed on the gentle Forest breeze, so loud the last few nights it had kept her awake.
It was almost so loud now she had to strain to hear the whisperings of the tree she rested back against.
The tree was telling her of Forgetting Worlds. Not the innocent Forgetting Worlds which were a treasure and a prize. But the captured Forgetting Worlds. Like Blue Earth and Red Marza. Where the Forgetting was manipulated to serve other causes.
Where her sister would soon be landing.
Deep in the heart of the enemy.
In a world where most see and hear and touch and feel only what is expected of them. What is programmed into them. And what is programmed into them is usually the most absurd of illusions.
They fight for them.
They fight for the illusions. They fight to keep themselves enslaved.
Be-spelled, enslaved and miserable enough to fuel industries which sell them what can never be bought.
That is quite a thing to forget. That what you seek cannot be purchased.
Some accuse it has been taken from them.
She stamped her feet some more and howled with laughter.
The inverse portal did not whirl again, merely grunted.
Because it knew, as well as she, that it was never taken. It was given up willingly. They may deny it, but there is that small part of them, which is also the largest part of them, which knows.
And so, in the end, when it is taken from them permanently, there is no-one to blame but themselves.
For that is the game now on Blue Earth. That is what the big guns are playing for. To take that part permanently and never give it back. To harness it and use it to open the path to the Other Cosmos. And then Blue Earth will simply be the gateway to war. Not a war of worlds. But a war of Cosmos.
The Forest Sprite had lived a long time and seen many things, many wars. But she had never seen a war between two Cosmos.
And still the tree whispered to her of her sister.
And the part she would play on Little Blue.
It was a more complicated part with harder choices, than she perceived her sister currently imagined.
Than any of them imagined.
And then there was the other. And what a part he would play. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her?
She was unsure.
And the tree seemed undecided also.
Is this what they hoped to achieve, though?
Did they even know what they hoped to achieve?
Had they ever put stock in such things, as the knowing of them?
On that the tree was decidedly undecided.
And she was also.
The Sprite who pondered such things had long, pale blonde hair down to her waist, secured off her face behind high, pointed pixie ears which held many piercings. Her skin was a deep golden, and her eyes, violet. She had dainty, cat like fangs, and tiny black horns.
Aside from her face, you would be hard pressed to find an inch of her not covered with the markings of her tribe.
She wore these very proudly, as all the inked Sprites do.
She was seated on the floor of the Forest, her back resting against one of the goddess trees. All the trees talked, but the goddess trees were her favorites. She liked their constant chatter when they were talkative, and their complete and utter silence when they were still.
Most of all she liked the riddles they gave for answers.
It would be highly disappointing to ask questions such as she asked, and ponder things such as she pondered, and have someone matter-of-factly answer, "Oh, that? It's just this." Or some other such boring thing.
The trees amplified the comings and goings of the Cosmos.
She might have missed the Cybriid's naughtiness completely if she had not been sitting amongst them in the grove.
She had come here to see where her sister was at, in the heart of the enemy. Catching the Cybriid in action had been an added bonus.
For the Cybriid had her part to play also. And that was already well in motion. She wondered if they would ever meet? Her sister and the droid.
The riddle the tree whispered in response was incomprehensible.
She got to her feet, brushed herself off and patted the goddess tree affectionately.
It had been a highly productive morning. She had much to report. There were many elements to a Pann Lord pattern strand. Several of those elements were now in play.
The powers that would be would be most interested.
The Sprite paused. To which of the powers that would be, would this be the most interesting she wondered. To which of these powers that would be, should she honor with such intel?
The goddess tree mumbled something about honoring none of them.
The Sprite looked to the East and concurred.
It would seem that at least one of these powers that would be, had taken it upon itself to try to kill her, after all.
Sighing heavily, she dropped to the ground and began to fashion a sling. Not an everyday, average sling, but a sling worthy of a Sprite who talks to goddess trees in an inverse portal glen.
She could hear the hum of the approaching drones. Humans thought them silent. But she had pixie ears, which as it turned out, were very handy things for hearing drones.
Ah, ready.
The first shot from the drones slammed into the goddess tree mere inches from her.
The goddess tree grunted indignantly, and the inverse portal whirled so fast and at such an angle, that even the Sprite toppled a little.
Which was fortunate.
Because if she hadn't, the second shot from the drones may well have got her.
Outraged, she stamped her foot and shook her fist at them.
That made her smile. She had always wanted to do the fist shaking thing, but had been warned that most took it badly.
But drones, on the other hand.
Poor drones, the thought took her unbidden, as the third shot took just the tiniest bit off the tip of her left ear.
Ow.
Sighing heavily she refocused her attention on the task at hand, made a slight reconfiguration to her intention, and released the sling.
Perfectly.
Dazed and confused, the drones wondered what they had been doing here. If drones could shrug,
they would have shrugged, said, "Whatevs," and gone to get a beer.
Being drones they simply meandered their way to the nearest charging station. Well, actually it was probably the furthest charging station. By the time they got there it was nightfall. They plugged themselves in and spent a merry twelve hours getting juiced up on expired drone charge, created for the much bigger model which had preceded them.
By the time they were tracked - and this was several weeks later - they were ruined as functioning drones.
But happy as fark.
They went on to spend a happy couple of years on a local recycling heap, reminiscing between themselves, and telling all and sundry about the magical jungle juice that had changed their drone lives forever.
When the time came when they both knew death was imminent, they prayed that it would come simultaneously for them, and they would not be left, one without the other.
And when it did come, it did its level best to do so. Still, the drone who had fired the first shot, felt that momentary pang of loss and extreme loneliness, when his companion was taken before him.
But in those horrid, grief stricken seconds, he was also filled with the vision of a space Sprite. She was an exquisite creature, even with a bit missing from the top of her left ear. And when she became aware of his presence, she stopped her conversation with a goddess tree to wink at him.
And then there was nothingness.
And then there was peace.
And then there was home.
Off-Worlders Page 20
