In Search of the Alter Dom

by Jack Challis

  However, despite Grunwalde’s childish behavior she was a powerful Queen; well respected and feared among the space traveling Advanced Races of the Antares Cluster. ‘Now Blodwyn, cariad,’ says Grunwalde, putting on her sweetest smile, ‘you are my best friend….I ask this favour. Our protector the Alter Dom has gone missing. Two Ora-Pellas saw it enter the Event Horizon of a feeding black hole – in the Andromeda Galaxy.’

  ‘Who is the Alter Dom?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘The Alter Dom is the highest being in the Antares Cluster. Its presence ensures peace and stops aggressive races attacking weak planets like Earth!’

  ‘Is the Alter Dom God?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Pass – I am now a Pagan and worship only Venus. But the Alter Dom can travel through space under his own power – it can be as small as a wisp of smoke or as large as a mountain; it is a master Changeling – not restricted by molecule capacity like Lings. He or it – thinks I am beautiful!’ (Grunwalde was a terrible flirt!)

  ‘But nothing can survive beyond the Event Horizon of a feeding black hole!’ Blodwyn replies.

  ‘Now… that’s the strange thing!’ Answers Grunwalde. ‘Everything that enters beyond the Event Horizon leaves a life-less image behind. The Alter Dom left no image! I believe the Alter Dom is not dead, but is dallying somewhere – maybe in False Arcadia – on Quilla Prime.’

  ‘What are False Arcadia and Quilla Prime?’ Blodwyn asks becoming confused.

  ‘Paradise!’ Grunwalde answers. ‘All kinds of beings dwell there – even Terasils whose bodies and souls become as light as feathers.’

  ‘Where are Quilla Prime and False Arcadia?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Not far – close to the moon!’ lies Grunwalde: her fingers crossed behind her back!

  ‘Is False Arcadia heaven?’ asks Blodwyn hopefully: her young mind always seeking confirmation.

  ‘Maybe…. maybe not?’ answers Grunwalde teasingly.

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’ asks Blodwyn suspiciously.

  ‘I want you to go on a quest – find the Alter Dom – just to the moon, mind you see!’ lies Grunwalde. ‘Tell the Alter Dom, that the Malis Afar and the Na Idriss plan to attack his friends – the Galla Qualls and Ida Jaade – then Earth!’

  ‘What!’ gasps Blodwyn open-mouthed, ‘leave Earth, I have never left Wales. My name is Blodwyn Jones – not Indiana Jones!’

  Grunwalde knew, but neglected to tell Blodwyn, that the Malis Afar planned to capture the Queen of Lings! Blodwyn was the perfect decoy; they could be twins apart from the spectacles. After all, who knows, the resourceful Blodwyn might even find the Alter Dom! Grunwalde also conveniently forgot to mention that Quilla Prime was nowhere near the moon. In actual fact Quilla Prime the planet in which False Arcadia was situated was sixty-six million light years away: far beyond the Lupus wormhole!

  ‘Who are the Malis Afar and Na Idriss?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘They evolved on Earth long before humans. An asteroid did not wipe out the dinosaurs – it was the intelligent and bloodthirsty Malisaraptors. They quickly evolved into humanoids and began calling themselves the Malis Afar. The feline Na Idriss are the vassals of the “Cold-bloods”. After ten million years, the Malis Afar were building spacecraft! The “Cold-bloods” are afraid of temperatures near freezing and were forced to leave Earth before the great ice age – now they wish to return, due to global warming – I wished I did more recycling!’

  ‘There must be hundreds of hot planets in our solar system – why Earth?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘The Malis Afar and the Na Idriss need new females. No one has ever seen a Malis Afar female. And the feline Na Idriss females are vicious – so wild, they can’t get near them!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Let’s just say I don’t fancy being around when they conquer Earth – have you seen cats doing it?’ giggles Grunwalde.

  ‘I live on a small farm stupid – I see every animal “doing it” – so what! Besides you says the Malis Afar are reptilian and the Na Idriss are feline!’

  ‘They have similar DNA to humans – the same tree – different branch. The Malis Afar wish to marry Terasil females. After all, humans are descended from reptiles with backbones!’

  ‘I believe the bible,’ says Blodwyn. ‘God created man and all other life forms. I accept aliens can exist – but a race of human hybrids is unthinkable! What else do you know about the “Cold-bloods?”

  ‘The Malis Afar remain a mystery,’ replies Grunwalde, ‘no one knows who rules them – no one has ever seen a Malis Afar female!’

  ‘Perhaps the females are shy – or in purdah,’ suggests Blodwyn.

  ‘Or have two heads and two bums,’ giggles Grunwalde.

  (Blodwyn would soon discover the sophisticated Malis Afar’s shameful primitive secret for herself!)

  ‘What would you do if the Malis Afar returned to Earth?’ asks Blodwyn.

  ‘I am raising three squadrons of fierce Daggled Nilks to lead us into battle, but we cannot fight against battleships with proton cannon and neutron torpedoes!’

  ‘How do you raise Daggled Nilks – give birth?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ answers Grunwalde, ‘what do you think I am a rabbit, giving birth at that rate – overnight. The first spark of life I create by magic and sorcery – cocoons do the rest! Now enough already – you are beginning to bore me with questions! Do I ever ask you what you had for breakfast – or the last time you went to the toilet?’

  ‘What will happen to all the other Terasils on Earth?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Terasils were bottom of the food chain when the Malis Afar and Na Idriss were here on Earth!’ Grunwalde answers – hoping to scare Blodwyn further.

  ‘Look, I have a better idea,’ says Blodwyn, ‘why don’t you go – you would be much quicker – I still have college.’

  ‘It’s a day before midsummer’s eve,’ answers Grunwalde, ‘I must lead the midsummer ride!’

  ‘I still can’t go….. It’s my birthday two days time,’ Blodwyn argues.

  ‘Rubbish – it won’t matter – you will see,’ Grunwalde replies.

  ‘Well,’ responds Blodwyn, ‘I sent my space suit to the cleaners – and they have lost it!’

  ‘Don’t be facetious Blodwyn Jones’ replies Grunwalde, ‘my Lings will take you to the moon – a suitable planet – travelling via energy bands!’

  ‘I am still not going!’ says Blodwyn, hands on hips.

  Grunwalde stuck an old briar pipe in her mouth. ‘Look here Blodwyn Jones, since I have been Queen my Tartarus Hobs have never killed any of your flock! When your Dad fell down Bryn-y-cwm he was not hurt! I ask you because you are practical, brave and honest. Below our feet is another world called Golgin Hade, with dark forests, rivers and mountains – evil Tormented Taarbs dwell there – I must remain to fight them!’

  ‘How can trees grow without the sun?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘The Earth’s fiery core is Golgin Hades’ sun,’ answers Grunwalde. ‘Taarbs are rising – looking for red meat – I will protect all your animals!’

  ‘Have you ever seen a Taarb?’ Blodwyn enquires.

  ‘No – just their handsome Prince,’ giggles Grunwalde, ‘he is a Higher being called Taarbanabus. He tried to snog me once – and asked for my hand!’

  ‘Just your hand – that won’t be much use!’ answers Blodwyn.

  Grunwalde giggles. ‘The whole world is in danger – your family!’

  ‘All right,’ says Blodwyn, ‘but what about my parents? They will miss me.’

  ‘I am a true Changeling – more powerful than a Warlock or Wizard. I can glide through the woods as a Goshawk or prowl as a tiger. I am a time warper – your parents will not notice your absence.’

  Blodwyn’s stomach churned – she felt faint. ‘What’s on the moon?’

  ‘Just a few craters – the rest is as flat as a witch’s tit!’ replies Grunwalde.

  ‘Are there any dangerous life forms?’ Blodwyn a
sks.

  ‘Only small, shy creatures called Rills,’ lies Grunwalde, ‘my two Lings Boodi, and Boochi, will protect you. Lings are not helpless little fairies!’

  ‘Are you still Human?’ Blodwyn asks curiously.

  ‘You were always the strong robust one,’ answers Grunwalde, ‘while I was the delicate, sensitive, more creative …..’

  ‘Alright – you have made your point,’ replies Blodwyn.

  ‘But now cariad – I am sound in wind and limb,’ continues Grunwalde: letting out another great burp and giggling. ‘I could pull a plough!’

  ‘The amount you eat is disgusting!’ Blodwyn remarks.

  ‘I know isn’t it wonderful – my metabolism has changed.’

  ‘Do you still have to…. you know what?’

  ‘Of course,’ giggles Grunwalde, ‘wherever I like now!’

  Blodwyn looks around her feet carefully!

  ‘Not on my own doorstep silly,’ giggles Grunwalde. ‘However, it is very awkward and embarrassing. Lings are inquisitive little buggers – they follow me around everywhere – watching and asking silly questions. It’s all right for them – the little sods do it on the wing without even stopping – like bees. Now give me your answer and stop playing for time!’

  ‘There will be conditions!’ answers Blodwyn. ‘Stop acting like a pig, stop swearing. Your Hobs are not to ride my pony; and, help the Widow Owen – she is about to lose her home to the moneylender Mr. Coggins.’

  ‘I promise!’ answers Grunwalde: fingers crossed behind her back. ‘Anything else?’ asks Grunwalde impatiently, putting on a contrived bored look. ‘I am not the social services – do I look like Mother Teresa?’ Then Grunwalde remembers…. ‘Mr. Coggins – he took our pocket money when we were small – he caught us scrumping. That purse-shuffler is tighter than a duck’s arse – and that’s water tight!’ Grunwalde giggles uncrossing her fingers. ‘Do you know what happened when Dr Tudor Ellis told Mr. Coggins he had diabetes – sugar in his water?’ Grunwalde asks.

  ‘Pass,’ answers Blodwyn.

  ‘Mr. Coggins went straight home and peeded in his porridge!’ All the Lings howled with laughter.

  ‘I have not finished yet!’ Blodwyn says, ignoring the joke. ‘And lastly, Caddoc Morgan needs to be taught a lesson!’

  ‘Ah, yes, Caddoc,’ muses Grunwalde; keeping her fingers uncrossed! ‘I think Caddoc will get his come-uppence tonight and another lesson a week later! Mr. Coggins I will deal with later. Now steal some of your dad’s tobacco – we can puff away together and practice swearing and spitting – like we used to do!’

  ‘We were only six then!’ Replies Blodwyn. ‘Besides, smoking is horrible. I am not going until you promise to everything Myfanwy Jenkins.’ Blodwyn insists.

  ‘I promise, cariad,’ answers Grunwalde with a sweet innocent smile, re-crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘Now go home Blodwyn dear, my Hobs will escort you – Taarbs appear at dusk! The Worshiping Star calls, we Lings gain power from it. Take two of my best dresses – pretend to be me – it would make your quest much easier!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ answers Blodwyn, ‘I will take practical clothes.’ Queen Angharad stamps her foot in frustration as she watches Blodwyn walk away. ‘Four-eyed – little Cow!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  A Bully’s Come-uppance

  A lovely green, wild eyed, Silky she.

  Who roamed the cold, deep Northern Sea; did yearn for land.

  And on the cold damp pebbles lay till summers night turned into day.

  Blodwyn quickly set off down the lonely mountain path. Panic gripped her body! She took several deep breaths slowing her fluttering heart. After all, the two Lings would protect her from any danger. Besides, her trusted friend Myfanwy Jenkins promised it would be easy.

  Bulrus Khan, the largest Hob, bounded ahead; Bellbinder and Bunderhund followed behind. Bulrus Khan stopped occasionally cocking his leg. “No wonder my Jack Russell ‘Charcoal’ avoided this path,” thought Blodwyn. ‘Cut that out you!’ she orders. Bulrus Khan muttered some obscenities under his breath – but obeyed.

  Blodwyn thought of Nemesis: the giant hornet-like creature – the first Queen of the Lings. Nemesis broke cocoon early knowing it would slowly kill her. She had to bring the Lings to Earth from the dying Venus. Nemesis was a carnivore and hunted both man and beast; accompanied by two female Barbarus Harpies!

  Out hunting, Nemesis found a little Saxon girl lost in the forest. Any human was prey: but this little girl regarded Nemesis without fear!

  The terrifying Nemesis towered over the shivering youngster. Twitching antenna and cold, expressionless, green compound hornet eyes, framed by course golden braided hair, studied the child. The giant hornet-like Nemesis noticed the girl also had green eyes and braided golden hair. Nemesis needed a successor: she knew she was slowly dying!

  The little girl’s name was Grunwalde. Nemesis trained the young Saxon girl; entrusting her with all the secrets and powers, to become the first Earthly Queen of the Lings.

  A young childish human Queen: who loved to dance, sing and could be teased, was a breath of fresh air to the fun loving female Lings; after the mute, humorless – flesh-eating Nemesis!

  Like their distant insect ancestors, Lings loved to tend and spoil their Queen, until her death – seven hundred years later! Before this happened; Grunwalde had picked a poor Welsh girl, called Angharad. From then on all Ling Queens were known as “Grunwalde Angharad.”

  Blodwyn wondered how a carnivorous species like Nemesis, became the first Queen of the Lings. “But that is another story.”

  Sniggering from behind, interrupted Blodwyn’s thoughts. Was some lurid remark by one of the Tartarus Hobs the cause? Blodwyn stopped, hand on hips, glaring at the Hobs. ‘Really, worse than the boys at college – pack it in!’ After they crossed the ford, the three Tartarus Hobs seemed restless: looking back over their shaggy shoulders at the riverbank. Blodwyn could just make out the lonely figure of Bryn Jones the local wino who was settling down for the night with his jugs of God only knows what!

  “Did the three Tartarus Hobs know him?” she mused. They certainly had something in common – they would drink anything! Blodwyn dismissed the three Tartarus Hobs. They did not need telling twice; bounding into the gloom cackling like hyenas – short tufted-tails rampant.

  ‘Bryn Jones has the breath of a flame thrower,’ Blodwyn once heard her mother complain. ‘How he manages to keep himself tidy living on the mountain is a mystery to me.’

  Bryn Jones: ex Marine, had long wild dark hair, that he trimmed himself using Peter the Goat’s sheep shears. His light blue eyes burned with alcoholic, Celtic passion. The type of feverish laser eyes only the Welsh, Irish and the Scotts seem to possess – when in their cups. In the winter he slept in an old abandoned shepherd’s hut, during the summer: under the starry blanket. He sustained himself on wild animals he caught alive in traps. He always carefully examined each animal, knowing he shared the mountain with Star-worshiping Changelings: they demanded respect.

  When Bryn Jones caught a sewyn (sea trout) he first carefully checked the beautiful fish. If the fish’s skin was not slimy and the fish had green vertical split-pupils he knew he had accidentally caught a Silky Changeling; that had entering the river from the cold sea in the guise of a sewyn. After mumbling a few words of apology in Welsh he would gently place the fish back in the water. For Silkies are kin to the Lings!

  A stone rolling down the riverbank made Bryn Jones turn. The sight he beheld – would have made most men run into the river screaming!

  Two paces away looking down on him were three bristling, brutish, bullet-eyed Tartarus Hobs, their short stubby tails standing rampant.

  ‘Ahoy – shipmates,’ greets Bryn Jones. ‘I have two jugs of sixty percent proof – homemade rocket fuel!’ The three muscular chimp-sized Tartarus Hobs were soon squatting around the blaze – grunting with anticipation.

  Bulrus Khan took the first long pull from an earthenware jug whil
e Bellbinder and Bunderhund looked on enviously.

  ‘Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the Falklands,’ begins Bryn Jones, ‘it was as cold as hell!’

  The Hobs’ small black bullet eyes glazed over – they had heard the story many times – but never understood it.

  Tartarus Hobs were not in the habit of socializing with Terasils; their job was to terrorize, torment and collect tithe for their young beautiful Queen. However the flowing jug was too much of a temptation – besides, they worshiped the same God as Bryn Jones – Dionysus!

  ‘Now then, I was in my prime – strong as a bull – see,’ continues Bryn Jones. The Hobs nodded as if paying attention; but were only interested in quaffing!

  ‘I was having a kip in a trench see – there was a bloody great bang! I popped my head up. The Officer – English he was…. shouted: “Jones, you useless bloody Welsh shower – get your head down man – that shell could have killed you.”

  ‘Look Sir,’ says I, ‘if I am going to get killed – I want to know what killed me see – just as a matter of interest like.’

  Bulrus Khan suddenly stands up cocking his large heavy head; he listens…. and announces…. ‘Our Queen calls!’

  With surprising swiftness, the three Tartarus Hobs leapt up the riverbank, leaving a wake of cascading pebbles; they bounded into the descending gloom cackling like hyenas.

  Disappointment spread over Bryn Jones’s ruddy face. ‘I was just getting to the interesting bit…..’

  However the three rot-gut – guzzling gulpers, had heard the silent summons of their Queen Angharad – the bully Caddoc Morgan’s time had come!

  In the enchanted glade, the three Tartarus Hobs listened to their Queen’s instructions, for they relished this kind of task. The Hobs looked up at their Queen intently; their short pointed ears pricked, like dogs waiting for their master to throw a stick.

  ‘Remember,’ orders Grunwalde, ‘no biting.’ Then changing her mind with a giggle ‘well, just a little nip…. no…. give the bugger one good bite, but no bone crunching!’