Aliens In My Garden

by Jude Gwynaire

  ‘Right,’ said another.

  ‘Yeah, I’m in an’ all.’

  ‘Down with Skoros, that’s what I say.’

  Voices came from all over the room, till there was a chorus of them, all pledging to bring down the so-called king.

  The chorus stopped abruptly when there was an intense rapping at the door. Everyone went quiet, as though they had decades of experience at plotting to bring down kings and queens. Mistress Alloban nodded to Verno, who went to the door. He clenched a fist, ready for action, then grabbed the handle and yanked open the door.

  Razor was hovering there in mid-air, flapping furiously. No-one said anything, but every eye stared at him.

  ‘Raaark. This the right room for a revolution, is it?’ he asked.

  __________

  ‘She’ll be in the castle,’ said Alditha.

  ‘You’re sure we need this...this alien, are you?’ asked Sagar.

  ‘I am, yes,’ Alditha said, putting her hand on the dragon’s neck. ‘She knows how to build those orb things, and who only knows what else. Got a great big grey alien friend an’ all, and he’s pretty handy in a fight. Don’t know how many more of those orbs Skoros has, but she’s the one we need.’

  ‘What about the Green Man?’ asked Sagar. ‘Should we get him involved, do you think?’

  Alditha sucked her teeth. She knew they probably should. ‘I’m not his favourite person at the moment,’ she admitted.

  ‘I’ll go and fetch him,’ said Big Red. ‘He likes me.’

  Alditha winced. ‘I’m just worried it’ll take all of us to rescue Celeste.’

  ‘You, me and the dragon should be enough, surely?’ said Odiz. ‘Big Red and the Green Man can form a second front, trap the blighter in the middle.’

  Alditha boggled.

  ‘Book learnin’,’ said the mage with a smug smile.

  ‘All right,’ muttered Alditha. ‘We’ll get Celeste, you get the Green Man if you can, meet back at Stone Hedge—Celeste’ll want to go there anyway.’

  ‘For the Garden,’ said Odiz, shoving his hand out, palm down.

  Alditha looked at it dubiously. Then she sniffed and put her hand on top of his. ‘For the Garden,’ she agreed.

  ‘For the Garden,’ said Big Red and Sagar together, putting a clawed red hand and a giant blue foot lightly on the pile.

  And here’s to not dying in the process, thought Alditha as they nodded at each other, and broke the moment.

  __________

  In another, secluded part of the Garden, there was another knock on a different door. It was a young knock, an enthusiastic one. It was the kind of knock you had when you were a small spellbook, throwing yourself against a door. Maybe some of Jasper’s intense training had caused the little spellbook to become more sensitive to his environment, or maybe he just sensed something different in the air. Either way, Dramm was excited.

  Jasper opened the door, and his face appeared on his cover, smiling down at the impetuous little book. It’s difficult to nod when your face is two-dimensional, but Jasper did it. And then, where his eyes, nose and mouth had been, they faded to blankness.

  Blankness that was replaced with streams of numbers and symbols that ran over his whole cover, chasing each other up from the bottom. Then, suddenly, the numbers and symbols vanished, too.

  A red stain grew in the middle of his cover, blooming like a blood spot. A blood spot that formed a perfect red star. Then the star unfurled fiery red wings on either side. Jasper looked up at the sky and saw changing colours, other dimensions, moving, drawing nearer—things he had not seen before, but instinctively understood throughout his whole body. Here was something that only spell books—and maybe a select few—could see and understand. He knew that, like the coming and going of the seasons, there would soon be an important change in the Garden. He also instinctively knew that he—Jasper—would soon be no more.

  __________

  ‘Delta, hold.’

  ‘Holding,’ confirmed the bio-mech, still gripping Skoros by the front of his robe.

  Skoros couldn’t see around the alien, but the voice behind it seemed amused.

  ‘Let go of the creature, Delta, before you sprain something.’

  There was a long moment of stand-off, while the bio-mechs large black eyes seemed to burn into Skoros. Then it let him go. Skoros rearranged his robe, ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘I apologise,’ said the voice, and Skoros moved aside to see who it belonged to. It was another teenaged-looking girl, this time with green hair and green eyes. ‘Hail, humanoid,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Skoros. ‘My name is Skoros, and I am king here.’

  ‘My name is Peridot,’ said the girl, ‘and this...complicates matters.’

  Skoros raised both eyebrows. ‘How?’

  Peridot frowned. ‘Because-’

  ‘Intruders,’ called a voice from another of the pyramids. ‘Bio-mechs, sterilize the area.’

  ‘Because of him,’ said Peridot, nodding at a boy who was stepping out of his pyramid. A boy with hair the colour of conkers and a scowl that said the universe was beneath him. ‘Zirca,’ she added. ‘I advise you to run.’

  ‘I am a king,’ said Skoros, puffing out his chest, ‘and the greatest wizard of the age.’

  ‘Marvellous,’ said Peridot. ‘If you still want to be all that in about thirty slipaways’ time, you need to run.’

  Each of the pyramids had contained a bio-mech and an Astarian, and each of the bio-mechs raised both arms, palms out.

  ‘Run,’ yelled Peridot. And Skoros, King of the Garden, looked quickly around the square, did some rapid calculations, and ran. Before he’d gone two hundred yards, he heard the sound of buildings collapsing, and felt a prickling heat on the back of his neck. He ran, and ran, expecting every second to be his last, for the heat to catch him up, and burn him, turn him to nothing but bits of surprised ex-wizard. His lungs ached, his muscles cramped, but Skoros kept running, never daring to look back.

  __________

  When most people have friendly disagreements, they tend to blow over in about a week or two.

  When magic-users have friendly disagreements, it can tend to leave continents smouldering and charred.

  Alditha and Odiz had engaged in a friendly disagreement about the best tactics for rescuing Celeste from Skoros Castle. Alditha had favoured magical disguises, saying it was traditional for witches to pretend to be ugly old peasants to get into houses.

  Looking back, Odiz supposed it was when he’d said ‘Pretend?’ that the argument had really begun. Alditha had held out her hands and muttered an incantation in which the words ‘get your useless bristles to my hand as quick as ya like’ had featured strongly. Her broom had shot through the undergrowth from wherever it had been held, upended itself and slid into her grip.

  ‘Yes,’ she’d said, smugly. ‘Pretend.’

  The argument had gone on from there. It might be traditional for witches, Odiz argued, but it wasn’t for wizards, who were more inclined to blast the door open. ‘All the mystic hoo-ha and being at one with nature is no match for a good fireball,’ he maintained.

  They hadn’t spoken for fifteen minutes, as they rode towards the castle on Sagar’s back. They could have each flown independently, Alditha on her broom and Odiz on the air’s understanding that he was a bally wizard, and the normal laws of physics didn’t apply to him, but when Sagar flapped his big blue wings, the laws of physics had a really good go at applying to them both, buffeting them about the skies.

  ‘Besides,’ said Odiz out of nowhere, ‘what do you suggest we disguise our blue friend here as? ’m not sure a blimmin’ great blue dragon can be disguised as anything other than a blimmin’ great blue dragon. Or if he can, it’s probably as something even scarier.’

  It’s difficult to get an air of icy disdain into your voice when you have to yell to be heard against the wind as you fly on the back of a dragon. Alditha though, had not become a witch without knowing a tri
ck or two. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she said, in a tone that made it perfectly clear she was sure Odiz was a dribbling idiot. ‘Approaching the castle now,’ she added with clipped precision.

  ‘Are we...alright, then?’ asked Odiz.

  ‘We’re fine,’ said Alditha, which even Odiz knew meant they were anything but fine. ‘Let’s just do this, shall we?’

  And with that, she swung her leg over Sagar’s shoulders, shuffled sideways, and dropped like a dignified stone on her broomstick.

  ‘Confound the woman,’ muttered Odiz, as Sagar took him round in a wide arc, to face the front of the castle. ‘Hate going on rescue missions when there’s bad feeling. Not good for morale, y’know?’ Sagar didn’t answer him, so Odiz patted the dragon’s neck. ‘You sure you know what to do, old chap?’

  ‘Let me see now,’ said the dragon, ‘has something to do with breathing fire, doesn’t it? Y’know, being a dragon? Not like I have any experience in that, or anything. Not like it’s what I do at all.’

  ‘Good grief, can’t a fella ask an honest question any more?’ Odiz bluffed. ‘Right, well then, let’s be getting on, I suppose.’ He huffed and puffed his thick, meaty leg over the dragon’s body, slipped, and tumbled into the air, his spare hands losing their grip on his shoulders and falling to the ground on their own.

  16

  Alditha dropped through the air. Normally, she would have had all sorts of fun, letting the slipstream blow her skirts up to her chin as she fell, or throwing her hair back carelessly in the wind, screaming ‘yo losers, out of the way’ as she went.

  But not today. Today the witch was on a mission.

  As she came close to the ground, she swept her broom underneath her feet and her fall slowed, till she put first one booted foot, then another, on the floor. She sniffed, satisfied that the first part of the plan had gone well. She was outside the back door of the castle—witches always went to the back door, because that was where you usually found penniless serving girls whose lives needed a boost and also because that was where all the best gossip was. Alditha was in no sense stupid—she knew there was unlikely to be anyone to fool with a disguise in the castle. But some things you did because they were traditional. She bent down and took a pinch of dust off the back step, sprinkled it over herself, and felt her features change, her skin grow loose, her nose grow longer, her teeth retreat, leaving just one visible on the bottom row, and a couple of warts sprout on her chin and her cheek. She felt an ache grow in her back as it stooped. Normally, she’d have changed her clothes to something more ragged and dirty, but she didn’t have time.

  Now I’m ready, she thought, gripping the handle of the back door and pushing.

  __________

  Odiz landed in a less dignified heap, his legs flailing in the air and his robe flapping.

  ‘Oof.’

  Within seconds, both his spare hands landed by the side of him, and Odiz rolled his old body up onto all fours, nodding his head to the spare hands, which scuttled forward, using their fingers as legs. Odiz stood up, rubbing his new hands together.

  ‘Right then, ya beardless loon,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s be havin’ ya.’

  __________

  Inside the castle, the two orbs Skoros had sent to keep Celeste sedated had manoeuvred her to a slab in the dungeon. They kept their beams fixed on her, meaning she couldn’t move.

  ‘’Ello,’ a croaky old voice called. ‘I’m an old washer-woman, come to see if there’s anything as needs...erm...washin.’’

  The orbs ignored the voice. Their master had instructed them to keep the female captive and immobile, and until he gave them further orders or their mission was threatened, that’s what they would do.

  The voice coughed. ‘P’raps you didn’t hear what I said?’ it called louder. ‘I said I’m an old washer-woman, lookin’ for anything as needs washin’—Oh I dunno, no respect for the traditions, some people...’

  Then there was the sound of a distant crump, which the orbs analysed immediately. By the relative distance of the sound and the components of its waveform, they judged that someone had exploded the front door, and turned the first three metres of the entrance hall to molten rock. The orbs did a rapid assessment of the need to investigate, but decided the likely threat level was too low to disturb their core mission—the keeping of the Astarian in a state of inactivity. The orbs noted the noise and activated their advanced surveillance sub-routines. But they didn’t move.

  In a corridor off the dungeons though, the body of a bio-mechanoid lay sprawled out. The bulbous head, face down, didn’t move. But it heard the voice of the ‘washer-woman’ and somewhere in the complex mass of organic matter and circuitry that was its highly advanced brain, it ran a pattern-matching programme. It found a match, which it hadn’t expected to do. Power surged and lit up neurons in its brain.

  ‘Al-al-al-al-’ it said. Its spindly arms moved, pushing it to its knees, then to its broad, splayed feet. ‘Alditha,’ said Alpha, moving off silently in the direction of the voice.

  __________

  Odiz’ extra hands skittered down the melted corridor, scouting each turn as they came to it, and giving him a thumbs-up before he followed them. His beard formed itself into a fist, punching at the air, and yanking him along with it.

  ‘Confound ya, lay still,’ he told it. The beard ignored him and kept punching.

  At the end of the corridor, one of his hands pointed down.

  A dungeon? Makes sense. He nodded at it, and it disappeared, leaping down the steps on its fingers like a spider on its legs.

  Moments later, the hand came jumping back up, and formed a ball with its fist.

  Orbs, thought Odiz. Gotcha.

  He formed his hands—the hands that were attached to the end of his arms—into a point on the top of his head. The signal was clear—‘Find Alditha.’ Both his old hands finger-ran off down the corridor. Odiz moved forward as quietly as he could, rolled up the sleeves of his robe and stood ready, both his hands in spell-casting positions in case the orbs should venture up the stairs.

  I dare ya, thought Odiz. I double dare ya.

  __________

  Alditha hobbled along the corridor, playing the old washer-woman for everything she was worth.

  Alpha rounded the corner, fixed her with his big dark eyes then raised his hands.

  ‘Mr. Alpha,’ said Alditha. ‘I’m glad to see you alive.’

  He lowered his hands again. ‘Al-al-al-Alditha,’ he said.

  She nodded, felt a twinge in her back. Ah, to heck with it—you can take tradition too far, she thought, and shook her arms. It was as though the old woman fell off her, like dust or sand, and Alditha stood in front of him. She couldn’t help herself though, sweeping the dust of her disguise off to the side in a neat pile.

  ‘Why are you here?’ asked Alpha. ‘This is the fortress of our enemies.’

  ‘I know it is. I’m looking for Celeste. D’you know where she is?’

  ‘She was running,’ said Alpha. ‘I stayed to stop our enemies. They prevailed. My systems went offline.’

  ‘I know you’re a clever person, Mr. Alpha. Can you perhaps use the ’fluence to find her? Can you tell me where she is now?’

  ‘Scanning for Astarian life signs,’ he said. ‘There is one Astarian within this building.’

  ‘That’ll be her.’ Alditha nodded her approval. ‘Lead on, Mr Alpha.’

  ‘Delta wave signature confirmed,’ he reported. ‘It is Celeste.’

  ‘Well of course it is—on ya go.’ she said, shooing him forward. ‘Wait.’ She grabbed one of his thin, pale arms. ‘Listen.’

  There was a sound coming towards them. A sound like the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

  Two hands with no bodies came running round a corner, and before she could stop him, Alpha raised an arm and blasted one of the skittering things with bright blue energy. It stopped in its tracks and flipped over, twitching. The other hand dodged and ran to Alditha for protection.

  ‘Mr. A
lpha, it’s on our side,’ she hissed.

  ‘Ac-ac-ac-accepted. Designation ally accepted.’

  The hand formed a tight ball.

  ‘Orbs?’ asked Alditha. ‘Here?’

  The hand gave a thumbs-up.

  ‘How many?’

  It showed two fingers.

  ‘I’m going to assume you’re not just being rude,’ she told it. ‘Lead on.’

  It began trotting back down the hallway, then stopped, walked over to the other hand, prodded it encouragingly, once, twice. The hand lay dead.

  The living hand sagged, then intertwined some fingers and began to pull its dead companion after it.

  ‘Here,’ said Alditha quietly, lifting them both up and carrying them. ‘You point, I follow, right?’ The still living hand gave a slow, sad thumbs-up, and pointed down the hallway.

  __________

  ‘What the?’ Whispered Odiz when he saw Alpha striding along next to Alditha. She told him with a look that Alpha was one of them, was on their side. Odiz’ eyes widened, but he shrugged. His spare hand took its fellow and climbed up the old mage’s robe, as if presenting the dead flesh to its owner for repair. Odiz took the dead hand, examined it, and slipped it quietly into one of the big pockets in his robe, then patted his shoulder, inviting the remaining hand up to its perch. It slunk up and held on tight.

  Alpha detached his hand silently and offered it to the mage.

  Alditha rolled her eyes, and Odiz shook his head. Alpha slipped the hand back on at the wrist and flexed it.

  Alditha pointed at Alpha, then waggled a finger between herself and Odiz. The bio-mech inclined his head only slightly, then went down the steps to the dungeon, his legs looking oddly bandy on the stairs, as though he were new to the concept.

  Alditha and Odiz followed one after the other. When the bio-mech walked into the dungeon room, there was no pause, no consideration of tactics—the three just went from walking downstairs to full-on battle mode. Alpha walked up to the nearest orb and grabbed it, held it tight between his hands. Code seemed to stream across his black eyes, in shades of bright, luminous yellow, and pour like heat into the orb’s casing. It began to shake the same moment that the second orb hit Alpha with its red ray. Still able to keep Celeste in its imprisoning beam, it floated up towards the ceiling of the dungeon, trapping them both. The orb in Alpha’s hand popped open at the top, a thin tube jutting out of its casing. He gripped the orb tight in a bear hug, then pulled out the tube. The orb went limp and dropped to the floor, and Alditha and Odiz piled into the room, firing blasts of magic from their hands. The orb weaved, avoided them. Alditha changed her focus, pointed the tip of her bindweed hat at Celeste. The hat unraveled, becoming a sticky black lasso and, with a thought, she flung the loop around Celeste’s feet and yanked. The girl was momentarily caught in a tug of war, but the orb fired bolts of hot energy at the magic users, and severed the bindweed. Odiz’ beard was singed by another blast and scurried up to hide beneath his chins.