by Gabi Moore
The Fae consulate is a seductive place if you've never been. Just after the war, the image projected by the consulate was something holy and set apart for regeneration. The marble statues and magnificent gardens were signals of what could be, if we only worked to restore beauty. They are beautiful, but they are tirelessly maintained so that hardly a leaf is out of place.
As it turns out, the consulate gardens are just another indication of the subtle classism that has taken root within Fae society.
The gardens were tended to by gnolls, and the cleaning was managed by pixies. Supposedly, we had all once lived in an idyllic forest wonderland, but I couldn't even imagine that type of existence any longer. Supposedly, somewhere out on the fringes, there were Wild Fae; those faeries had all run away in an effort to retain both their culture and autonomy.
The Wild Fae had been tangential, yet crucial in our fight against Xan. More support was offered by them for our benefit than any other population in the realms. However, they only operated at a distance. The Wilder Ones appeared to be ultimately concerned with their own preservation, and only came into action when Xan's forces threatened to run them out of their deep forest retreat.
Following the revolution, we had a choice to join the Wilder Ones, and some did. The rest of us clung to the process of creating a civilized utopia. The promise of security and an improved quality of life were too enticing. It was a devil's bargain, but most of us were so caught up in the machinery of social engineering, that we didn't have attention to notice, or time to complain.
I wasn't completely jaded, but I did fail to see the beauty of the consulate most days of the week. When my mind is pre-occupied with the latest dramatic political episode, it is hard to see the beauty of the trees. It's hard to even appreciate the power and simplicity of a single moment.
Breathing more deeply now, I set my sights not on the nearest areas of the garden, but along the edges. Out there, along the periphery, there was still a bit of freedom to be had. The workers were ordered to maintain appearances as close to the common grounds as possible, but due to the construction of the gardens, the fringes were less accessible, and less critical for purposes of presentation.
My feet passed through the threshold of the garden's main entrance, and I looked around me. I had walked into a vast courtyard. Along the edges of the courtyard were openings which branched outward into increasingly private directions. Wind came at my face, and gently lifted my hair from my cheek.
The garden's labyrinth was a walking meditation place which accommodated officials with a higher level of security clearance, as well as the general public. As one moved further into the garden, the hedgerows themselves adapted their position to accommodate each person who walked between them. As you continue to press further into the garden, it becomes still more complex and secluded. Of course, when you want to leave, all you have to do is turn around with the intention of finding the exit. Malice was completely absent from the garden's design.
Today, my goal would be to go as deep as possible. I needed to find a gateway.
Thane entertained me; at least I had to laugh in order to deal with his bullshit. Our former resistance group was built out of the rejected idealism of the previous reich. Passing through the papered rose beds and small groups of office workers, I couldn't help but think about how far we had come, and what all of this used to be.
Before the revolution, this entire place was a practical necropolis. These very roses were undoubtedly fertilized by the blood of fallen heroes -- likely not all of them on our 'side'. Whenever I walked through here, I felt more like a living statue then an actual person. I figured out a long time ago that the stares are what really push that envelope for me.
Thane and I were close, and our bond was primarily militaristic, but I wasn't around a lot of the time, which meant that our relationship was more polyamorous than not. As a woman, and an intelligence operative, I got close with a number of people during the course of my work. Targets, clients, associates; whatever was called for to accomplish our mission.
They called me a Fixer.
Our job was to obtain information and connect people with either information, people or objects. Fixers are liminal creatures who host a unique range of skills. We are resourceful, and always manage to find our way in and out of situations. Sometimes things got intense, but luck was on my side more often than not.
Now that we had overthrown the previous regime, we were supposedly moving on into a new world where we didn't use the same military efforts. We won a victory of some kind, but the same mechanics as before seem to be in operation, if under a different paradigm.
I thought about my current task, and let my hand stray back to feel the note pressed up against my body. I had been on missions like this before in the past. You don't read the note until the exact moment before the portal, and even then, you only get one shot.
Everything cloak and dagger - makes me think we are just as bad as they were.
Laughter in the distance caused me to snap out of my reverie long enough to take note of my surroundings.
The corridors had gotten narrower, though there was still enough room between walls of vegetation to accommodate the group approaching from around the corner. They are on their way out, and I have yet to reach the area of the labyrinth where incidental contact ceases to be a possibility.
They are young, and smiling.
When I look at the younger generation, I realize that there is no way that they will ever be aware of the troubles that we faced in order to get here. Regardless of that reality, I try not to judge them too poorly for it. More likely than not, they will have their own troubles. In fact, I think the people who should be judged most severely are those who brought people like myself up onto a pedestal.
The laughter stopped as soon as they notice me.
I walked forward, with my face resolute; knowing that they were staring and doing everything possible to regain what 'composure' they felt was necessary in my presence. They retracted their wings to their sides, and bowed stiffly as I passed. I fought the urge to say something resentful to them. I wanted to tell them to knock it off, and start taking themselves more seriously.
I settled for a simple aphorism.
"I am nothing more than a role which you will one day need to fulfill."
My words will not be heard.
They will be memorialized in the minds of the younger generation. They may even be engraved on a placard and posted on the hallways of the Consulate, but that doesn't mean that they will be adhered.
The most incredible thing about raising a person up to the position of a deity, is that it gives you the ability to discount and ignore them.
"She's a hero. I couldn't possibly do that."
"Back in the day, life was more difficult, and people had to take themselves more seriously. These days, we live in a more progressive world."
All lies.
Nothing more than excuses to not examine the world around you with any degree of critical thought. All of these bitter reflections juxtaposed with the fragrance of jasmine.
"Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe this is the vacation I've been asking for all this time. Besides, if this actually is a way to help -- however unorthodox, this might be the right path."
The hedges began to narrow on either side of my body. The aisle got so close that the sides of my shoulders brushed up against either wall of vegetation.
Any minute now...
Then a voice called out from behind me.
"Mistress Aria! Mistress!"
That nasally high-pitched whine and formal title was all I needed to be completely sure that I had no interest in engaging with this person. I quickened my pace, but they were rushing toward me, and I couldn't blatantly run away from a Head of State.
"You're pretty deep in the labyrinth..."
"I needed to clear my mind."
"Hmm... well, a little bird told me that they saw you go into Thane's office this morning first thing."
"Tell that cocksucker to mind his own business."
"My dear!"
"Look, I'm sorry, Bartholomew, but I've been having some lousy dreams lately, and Thane's really the only one who can relate."
"Well, most certainly, but I have been recommending you stay at our Archetypal Therapy Psychological Wing for months, ever since Mary-Anne--"
"Cocksucker."
"Ahem."
I could feel his eyes narrowing in my direction, though I tried to maintain a straight face, and a steady pace.
"… Ever since Mary-Anne issued you your first resignation request."
"Well, she does have a big mouth."
If possible, his eyes narrowed even more at me. I knew I had to ditch him, but I wasn't exactly sure how.
"You're aware the confidential information is not to be shared amongst non-active operatives such as yourself."
I turned on him.
He was easily a full foot and a half shorter than me, which placed his head at right about the same level as my tits. He almost ran into me, and his nose came within a hair's length from my body. I watched with pleasure while his cheeks flushed red. He backed up and looked at me, attempting to regain whatever pomp and authority he had approached me with only moments ago.
"That's right. Ex-Operative. Which means I don't need to be hassled any longer by book wielding, political suck-offs like yourself. Mind your own fucking business, and let me mind mine."
I walked closer to him, making sure my breasts got right up in his face, causing him to backpedal.
"I came here so I could be alone, and collect my thoughts, and you're fucking with my process. So the next time you want to do a little investigatory work, get a warrant."
At the last word, the garden finally brought up an aerial root, and tripped Bart down onto the ground. Without wasting a moment, I turned around and walked quickly back into the maze, allowing the passageway to close in on itself in my wake.
I could hear him yell, but he couldn't see me, and thanks to the magic of the labyrinth, he would never find me unless I walked out.
You can wait there all day, my friend...
Another twenty feet, and I had arrived.
The gate was little more than a fountain, covered in moss and lime deposits. The fountain clearly hadn't been in operation for some time. To my satisfaction, the area around the edges of my little clearing was covered by a dense thicket.
Reaching behind me, I snagged the envelope out of my pants, and opened it up. Inside was a sheet of paper, and a holograph from the Intel Department. I took the image out first, and allowed it to unfold in front of me.
A figure of a man sprang out from the slip of paper and rotated around me in the air.
I narrowed my gaze, and strained to pick up the details of the image. Stretching the holograph out in front of me, I was able to get a good glimpse at the man's physique. I could also read the DNA Readout and Sociological Inquiry that was inscribed on the lower right hand corner of the holograph.
“You've got a great body for a human, but this psyche profile is ridiculous. Believes in both Faeries, and Aliens...”
Well, he'll get proof enough on the first, but ... humans are so gullible.
No sooner had I finished committing the details of his face to memory, when the holograph incinerated before my eyes.
"Fuck!"
I backed off, cursing Thane for nearly taking my eyebrows off. The rest of the briefing was straight forward enough. The human's name was Erol, and he was apparently swimming in a quagmire of esoterica. The basic parameters of the mission were easy enough to manage.
First and foremost, make contact with the subject. Second, undermine and redirect research to achieve personal aims. And lastly, save the Fae Realms.
Not too difficult.
I let out a long exhale, and rolled my eyes while the contents of the note began to glow and catch fire as well. Shaking my head, I dropped the paper to the ground and watched while it too ignited. This time, the fire didn’t stop at the end of the paper. With amusement and absent-minded fascination, I watched as the fire transformed into a blue light. The flare expanded and became a perfect oval, placed just over the base of the fountain.
I took another breath to sturdy myself, and then stepped into the portal.
Chapter 4
I tripped over something in transit, and landed face first in the mud. It was an unceremonious drop which brought a curse to my lips, but that curse was never uttered.
I extended my arms to examine the ground, and I discovered that my skin had changed both color and texture. My hands and arms were scaled and red. My skin looked like the basin of a desert. Thin black lines working their way through deep amber scales.
I reached out one hand to touch the other, and I found that I also had nails that extended out from my fingertips like claws. The nails were black, and shone like perfect obsidian. In the reflection of my own nails, I could see horns had emerged from either side of my head. In shock, I looked down at a placid and undisturbed section of ground beneath my feet. The area of the muck that had not been disturbed by my fall offered me a perfect reflection along the surface of the ground.
My Gods... I have both wings.
The urge to fly overwhelmed me, but there was something else preventing me from fully indulging in this realization. I recognized myself, but the image was some twisted form which I had only dreamed of previously. I was a creature of the lower planes, both sexual and deadly. The eyes were slit and my nose had been flattened. My tongue had been elongated, and my wings were no longer light and translucent, but dark and leathery. I saw that the tar had stuck to the side of my cheek, and I reached over to wipe it from my newly pronounced cheekbones.
What is this place?
The mud stuck to my fingers like tar. The substance was long and viscous. I moved my shoulder over to the side of my face to wipe the gunk off of my cheek, and it ended up sticking to my shirt as well. I looked down and saw that my breasts, while still there, had decreased in size. I was lithe and reptilian in form.
When I looked around me, I had to squint my eyes from the harsh light overhead. There were no trees, and the air was rank like pitch and sulfur.
This is wrong, I shouldn't be here...
I looked about, trying to get my bearings. I could see no major landmarks around me. There were no hills in the distance. No vegetation. No signs of life anywhere. I knew that the portal had been directed to take me as close to my target as possible.
What I did not understand is how those directions had been somehow subverted so that I would end up here. All I could feel was the mire beneath my feet, and the glaring orb of fire in the sky, casting its hateful gaze down at the world below.
I felt the slightest shift under my feet, and lifted my boots up one at a time. The tar clung to one of them, and my foot pulled right out of the boot. Even the physiological structure of my feet had been modified. I let out a sharp exhale of frustration, and then proceeded to bend over and bother about putting my foot back in its correct place.
Just as I had finished, I felt a vibration making its way through the ground. I could feel the movement initially on the soles of my feet, but soon the sensation transferred throughout my whole body. The wave brought the hair of my neck on end, and I shook my shoulders out.
The magic that opened the portal must have had some foreign element in it…
I was trying to parse out how this could have happened. In all of the times that I had used the portals, I had never experienced anything similar to this. My sensory awareness spiked, and an instinct to flee overtook my body.
Approaching my position from the left, the tar began raising up from the ground like the crest of a wave. My feet were planted firmly in the muck. A sense of dread overwhelmed me, and I instinctively squatted down to prepare for a powerful launch into the air.
The strength of my wings took me by surprise. With wings like a bat, I was able to launch off of the ground with incredible v
itality and speed. I leaped straight out of my shoes, and flew up into the air toward safety.
In mid flight, as I soared into the unforgiving heat above, a black serpentine form shot out from the tar beneath me. Like a whip, it coiled around my ankle, and clung tight.
I strained to break free, beating my wings furiously against the air, but there was no freedom to be found. I only began to feel the pull in my ankle, as well as the pressure from the creatures grasp. Thinking to strike it, or tear it off from me, but it grabbed a hold of my wrist as well.
One after another, black, inky tentacles from the pitch below shot out at me from the ground. The tendrils slid inward along my body toward the center of my body. With each tug, they drew my arms and legs farther apart from one another. Their hold was tight on me, and it seemed that any amount of struggling on my part only increased the tension of the creature.
I tried to relax, wondering if it was responding with tension to my fight, but it only reached a tentacle out and wrapped itself around my throat.
A searing pain began to radiate all over my body. The areas of contact immediately reacted in a bright blue rash, spreading out in all directions from the creature. I let out a scream, crying out for help, even though there was no one around. The tentacle poised over my mouth, ready to suffocate me, and then something changed in the environment.
I was pulled underneath the surface of the ground.
At first, I thought that death had finally arrived at the hands of a vicious tentacle demon, but I was wrong.
On the other side of the black pitch, there was water. But the strangest thing was that I was still able to breathe. I looked down and saw that the demon had penetrated my mouth, though instead of an inky black creature, I saw a translucent passage providing me with oxygen. Its nature had fundamentally changed.
Once more, the atmosphere around me began to change. A brilliant light flashed through the water and I found myself once more in-between realms.
Much to my dismay, the tentacles that had coiled themselves around my body had been replaced by a thick briar of blackberries. The portal had deposited me square in the middle of a maze of thorns, and my clothes and skin were suffering for the contact.
