The Ancients and the Angels: Celestials

by M.C. O'Neill

  ***

  The brilliant blue up above broke through the cavernous buildings that formed the downtown neighborhood. Rows of businesses and flatblocks attempted to block the sun, but nature, as always, won out and treated the pair to its warm, healing rays.

  “What happened to the adwheel?” Quen’die pointed down the street to the massive anti-gravity device. “Why is it floating so low?”

  “Uh, if you look at its outer hoop, you’ll see that some of its manaballs have been knocked out so it can’t support its full weight,” the elf indicated the outages to her with a blithe gesture. “Probably, birds flew into it or something like that.”

  “Why don’t they just fix it?” Quen’die spat. “It’s so annoying! It woke me up today when it floated right past my window and that big dumb pyramid blotted out the sky! I thought I was having a nightmare!”

  “Oh, it’s probably the martial law and the budget and all that bureaucratic muckety,” On’dinn shrugged in estimation. “I suppose you better get used to it, because I doubt the city is going to bother patching it up anytime soon. You’ll learn pretty quickly that in this neighborhood, things break down and stay that way. I guess it’s all a part of that ‘Old World Charm’ the elites go on about.”

  The elf made a slow turn towards the maiden. “So, why the move from the beautiful bluffside to these palatial acres? Did you get kicked out of the house or something?”

  Quen’die, in all honesty didn’t want to get into the morbid topic at that moment. She just wanted to enjoy the wonderful weather and forget about anything from that horrible Moonday, but she figured that the more people knew about what Venn’lith was capable of, the better they could defend themselves from any of her terrible schemes. “On’dinn, we all got kicked out.”

  “Huh?” he shot her a confused wince. “Did the city evict you? Foreclosure?”

  “No, nothing like that,” she cleared her throat and collected her thoughts about the subject. “Remember when the Gonduanna Princes sang that Tell the Truth about Lith at the party and everyone starting pelting her with trash?”

  On’dinn let out a short laugh. “Yeah, that was awesome. I can’t stand her. Venn’lith Mitlan is an elitist idiot.”

  “This is true, but she’s an elitist idiot that blamed the whole thing on me!” the elfmaid banged her tiny sternum to pack in the point.

  “So how does that get you kicked out of your home?” On’dinn gave a shrug. “I don’t get it.”

  “My folks work for her father,” she began. “That guy basically funds their whole operation.”

  “Oh, yeah, they’re the ones going to Mars,” the elf interrupted. Just days ago, he remembered that he himself had tried to sabotage her parents’ livelihood but out of courtesy to his present company, he managed to blot out that guilty memory. Quen’die seemed pretty nice and he was feeling a stir of regret for his old belief.

  “That’s right. Well, we were going to Mars,” Quen’die wrinkled into a deep frown. “Then Lith snitched on me to her father and said that I beat her up at this dinner we had at their house last Feastday. After that, her father fired my father and told my mother that I was a professional and had parties of ill-repute at my house while they were away at the lab! It’s all lies told by Lith!”

  “Even the parties of ill-repute?” On’dinn couldn’t resist the suggestive joke.

  “Yes, you jerk!” Quen’die laughed back at the male’s jab as she bestowed a slight punch to his shoulder. “I had nothing to do with any of it. You were even there with me at Sig’ryn’s!”

  “Look, Venn’lith Mitlan will get what’s coming to her,” the elf reasoned. “Nobody can be that ridiculously villainous and continue to get away with it.”

  “That’s the way it should be, but what about all those people that love to hate her? It’s like they keep coming back for more abuse!” Quen’die widened her eyes at the notion of such irrational behavior, and her two hangers-on Agrat and Isheth were at the forefront of that notion.

  “They don’t love to hate her, nor do they really love her. They hate themselves for some reason,” he lectured as he avoided a garbage can. On’dinn had his fill of trash courtesy of Hyrax last week. “You should feel lucky that you aren’t amongst those types that ask for it. The world is full of them.”

  “Yeah!” the maiden yelped in agreement. “Like that Har’din Star’dag who hosts that nasty talk show. All these people with problems in their lives call in and he just makes fun of them, even if the problem isn’t their fault. Lots of times, those same people call back for more. It’s like they love it!”

  As they continued to stroll en route to the cornershop, the adwheel turned toward the pair and treated them to a full-frontal view of a pyramid. There was something different about it now, but as far as Quen’die was concerned, the shape had become a ubiquity and one looked like all the others.

  “Hey! Did you notice that the light atop the monolith-thing barely flickers anymore?” On’dinn noted as he pointed toward the wounded announcement vehicle. “It’s really steady now. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t like it.”

  “Yes, you’re right!” the maiden exclaimed. “I never thought about it, but it’s been like that for a couple of days now. The news didn’t really even mention it. Heh, maybe we just discovered a breaking report!”

  On cue, the wheel’s screen flashed and the words “Breaking Report” replaced the ever-present view of the pyramid. The two stopped in their tracks as did all of the coaches traveling on the street alongside them. Quen’die could hear On’dinn groan out of world-weariness. “Oh no, what is it now?”

  To answer his question, the stark and militaristic seal of Thuless’in confronted everyone stuck on the street. A proud and spartan black disc encased a graphic of a sharp, white lightning flash. For ages, the Thuless’in provinces were quick to threaten and intimidate all the other nations of the earth. Their glacial kingdoms possessed some of the most advanced weaponry in all of elfdom, and the world shook in universal terror when this image presented itself on their screens.

  As expected, the title Thuless’in United Standard Party banged over the oppressive seal one by one with an accompanying sound of a booming explosion for each word. On’dinn shook his head in embarrassment for that nation. “Can you believe all this macho junk? These guys have no shame.”

  Embarrassment turned to immediate worry when the broadcast delivered a mighty exposition of militaristic threat. Kyrin Tynko, the current High King of Thuless’in stood at a fur-lined podium with his Defense Elder and his General Prime Minister at either of his sides. Behind him, an orderly ocean of military materiel rested in a menacing formation of troops, battle coaches, dire wolves, war mammoths and the dreaded laandbaarg, which was a gigantic artillery platform developed by that warlike nation. Above him hovered flights of circular battlelimmers, their underbellies brimming with heavy casters. Swirling amongst the troops and vehicles, nude Blood Maidens danced and sang like hellish cheerleaders as wreaths of daisies and wildflowers adorned their heads. Each of these beautiful elfmaids was drenched in their ceremonial dire wolf gore. When these females were present, that meant Thuless’in wasn’t joking around.

  Kyrin Tynko was born in the Eastern Thuless’in province of Kev’ryss. He began his rather humble life as a poor farmhand on a dire wolf ranch. Having fled the farm on his eighteenth birthday, the opportunistic future-tyrant had relocated to their snowy capital of Ultimo. His prime years were shrouded in mystery, but his ascendency to the throne was achieved when he had assassinated King Ron’dagg V fair and square, thus claiming the gallant job for himself. The people loved to fear their new despot and even gave him the moniker of “The Blessed.” Big and burly in his middle years, the dramatic leader had a gift for oratory theatrics and his ornate eyepatch had become something of a trademark. Tynko had yet to wage a proper war under his watch, and he figured now was no better time to get things started.

  “Lords and Ladies of the kingdoms of Atlantis
and Kumari!” the General Prime Minister bellowed with brutal might into the mirrors before him through a translator. “High King Kyrin Tynko will now deliver a most gracious declaration to your peoples!”

  The striking blond ice king paused with a dramatic pose as his one blue eye bulged in stern anger. “I have been praying for your people lately. I have been praying that your meddlesome antics on an unknown world would not endanger the very lives of elfdom itself! I have been praying that the buffoonery of your scientific curiosity would not unleash the wrath of alien forces. Sadly, I am not worthy of the gods’ favor as you can well see by these foul alien pyramids and your most unfortunate massacre on the ill-fated Cydonia Base.”

  Elves on the street were stepping out of their coaches to witness the threatening display of Thuless’in power broadcast on the adwheel above them. Mothers were clutching their little elflings to their trunks and angry males were pumping defiant fists at the Machiavellian dictator.

  “Because of this, I must with a heavy heart, advise you to guard your borders and steel your troops. Soon, you will feel in total force the power of Thuless’in intervention for your failures and irresponsibility. These foreign entities will no longer be allowed to saddle themselves upon our lands! Do you want total war? Death to the aliens! Judgment to their foolish hosts! For Unity! For Purity! For Blood! For Soil!”

  “I knew it!” cried On’dinn as he slammed the sides of his skinny legs in frustration. “I always knew this was going to happen!”

  “What do you mean?” Quen’die winced with confusion.

  “I mean, I have always known I would live to see Thuless’in attack our nation,” the young elf threw up his hands with a sense of hopelessness. “Why at a time like now?”

  “No time is a good time for war.” Quen’die could feel herself beginning to share On’dinn’s anger toward the Thuless’in king.

  “Try telling that to this despotic freak!” the lad was all but foaming at the mouth as his lack of hope gave way to unfocused rage.

  As the king fired up his troops with his bold grandstanding, they all began chanting the Thuless’in battle cry which had been a standard of that vicious army for ages. “Victory Forever! Victory Forever!” The Blood Maidens punched up the pitch of their wailing song of destruction in angelic accompaniment. This murderous display sent chills up the spines of On’dinn and Quen’die.

  Although the roar from the Thuless’in parade was quite thunderous with its beating of metered battledrums, it was no match for the deafening “GONK” that was emitted just then from the pyramids. The things blasted a triumphant C major only to descend into a sickening F sharp. The sound could be heard inside the brain as Quen’die and On’dinn covered their pointed ears to no avail. It was an unmistakable phenomenon. With a quick and almost instantaneous bend in space, the pyramids unfolded into ziggurats; each and every one worldwide in perfect unison. The formerly-smooth slopes of the hulks were now kinked into thirteen giant steps running up to its fully-lit headlight. The blessed King Tynko would need to postpone his glorious battle plans.

  And thus, the screaming began.

  Waiting for Hell From Above

  Corosa City had constructed a network of tunnels decades ago during a tumultuous time of political posturing between Atlantis and Thuless’in. In what had been considered a cold war, the two kingdoms were expecting one or the other to invade. Ever since the end of the Third Orc War, Atlantis had adopted a defense-only policy on paper. Of course, there were constitutional ways around striking first as had been seen by the recent Tel’lemurian Conflict, but the high throne had made a distinctive doctrine to differentiate between a “war” and a “military-police action.”

  These tunnels served as security shelters for the entire public regardless of finances or income. All citizens were welcome into their refuge in the event of an invasion or massive disaster. The entrances to the shelters were, in their most common design, underground and nestled in inconspicuous places, so as to deter “urban explorers” and vandals. Quen’die and On’dinn were rather taken aback to learn that the door to the shelter in which they were now huddling was located in the middle of a child’s playground which was erected in the center of their flatblock’s quadrangle; right next to the wooden jungle gym.

  “This is really some setup!” On’dinn announced as he soaked in the cavernous structure. “I can’t believe this place has been right under my nose for my whole life!” He swiveled his head both ways to see that the tunnel seemed to stretch on for hundreds of feet in either direction. Elves from all over the downtown area, many of whom were working stiffs who lived in other neighborhoods, were trying to situate themselves in a state of awed confusion as they were also amazed by the shelter’s immensity.

  Nanna Orsi placed an affectionate hand on the young elf’s shoulder. “I can barely remember, but I was just a little elfling with bucked teeth and pigtails when the city had finally finished these things. Back then, the playground was a series of fruit stands and the door was right in the middle of them.”

  “Wow, things change, huh?” On’dinn intoned. “I wonder if my father made it down here?” he shook his head in shame for the old lord. “He’s probably sleeping through all this.”

  “Don’t worry about your father, On’dinn,” Nanna consoled. “I’m sure he has nothing to fret about regardless of whether he is above or below. The wardens will find him eventually. Nothing bad will happen to him.”

  On’dinn was more concerned about what his father would do to himself in a drunken accident than from the long arm of the law or aliens from another world. As of late, the old elf had been nurturing his alcoholism to the point where he was developing an early senility. One night after On’dinn had skirted home from a Black Hood meeting, his father failed to recognize him and threatened to shoot him with his caster. It took his own son almost five minutes to convince him that he was his one and only child and that he had every right to live there. The next day, the lad had cached the caster to See You Around, their local pawnshop for resale. As On’dinn saw it, the he would rather be assassinated one day as a politician who had done something of actual consequence with his life rather than being flat-out killed as a mere teenager due to his father’s liquored confusion.

  “Eww…,” Quen’die winced as she covered her sensitive ears. “I really wish they would knock off those sirens. They’re super loud even down here.” The klaxons had been going off ever since the pyramids unfolded with their invasive BANG BANG BANG. That noise was agitating many of the little ones in the shelter with its immense booms, and with each volley of the warning, most of them would begin crying from sonic pain.

  “Well, the city needs to make sure that everybody gets to safety, and that can take a while,” Nanna reasoned as she gleaned the milling elves. “After all, Corosa is one of the most populated places on the entire earth!”

  Dotting the walls of the tunnel every ten meters or so were manascreens that were displaying the message, “Atlantis Emergency Network System.” So far, no alerts other than this bland greeting screen were being displayed, but many of the elves who had already situated themselves were glued to the graphic in anticipation that some news or instructions would arrive over the flow.

  As more waves of elves were filing into the entrance, a young lady in a pale blue labcloak boarded a raised block in the center of their tunnel’s section. Quen’die poked her head down either length of the shelter and saw that other labcloaks were manning their respective stages. Their section was almost as huge as a commercial sealiner from end to end.

  “Attention, everybody!” the labcloak chirped through the microphone strapped to her head. The reverberation of the sound was mingled with the synchronous announcement of the doctors down the line in either direction. “Welcome to Section 12 of the Atlantis Emergency Shelter Network. This is your designated section during your stay in this shelter, so please do not cross the red line marked on the floor as that will lead you into another section and you might get sep
arated from your families.” She was gesturing with a wild energy as she spoke and it took a few seconds for Quen’die to realize that she was using Atlantean Sign Language for the deaf. “In a few moments, a gate will drop down on that line just so it’s easier to keep track of you and your loved ones. I’m Dr. Cor’maas of the Circle of Health and Safety and I’ll be helping you out for the duration of your stay down here, okay?”

  After she had finished her introduction, the gates she had warned the crowd about descended with slow care from the ceiling to the ground. A large yellow “12” was strapped to its canvas links. This presentation was a bit unsettling to Quen’die, and became more so when two armored bulls flanked either side of the good doctor. She now felt all but trapped upon their arrival.

  “Right,” the doctor continued after the gates were fully lowered. “Don’t be alarmed by the guards, as they are just here for your safety and so we can have a little order down here, okay? I know this is a really big inconvenience for most of you, but we just want to make sure that everybody down here doesn’t get hurt. So it’s super important that you try to keep calm so you don’t miss any vital instructions, okay?”

  “Uh…Okaaay…,” On’dinn mimicked her with sarcasm to which Quen’die stifled a giggle. The young lad was never much for authority and this condescending doctor was doing a good job at working his nerves. He figured it all wouldn’t be so bad if it were not for the armors and their wicked casters flanking her sides.

  “Great!” the ‘cloak oozed with a phony smile. “Now, if you direct your attention to the screens above you, you’ll see that we have installed them to let you know important information. When you hear this signal, it means that this session is over and it is safe for you to go back up top!” The screen emitted the piercing WOWOWOW sine wave that was identical to the sound bite delivered on everybody’s tablets the other day.

  “Okay, I hope this little visit is as pleasant as we can possibly make it for you. In the event that your stay here is prolonged we will be serving boxed lunches around 12 p.m.” She looked at her tablet for a moment. “Oh! We’re serving portabella sandwiches! Sounds good, huh?”

  In all honesty, that sounded great to On’dinn and he hoped in some ways that they would be stuck down there long enough so that he could have one. The refrigerator and cupboards in his flat were bare for the most part. Maybe this labcloak wasn’t so bad after all if she could remedy his rumbling stomach.

  Quen’die had been down there for what seemed like ever-increasing and tedious hours, but she still couldn’t take in all the action ruffling around her. Camps upon camps of elven families were squatting and wandering about their section as she was craning her neck like a meerkat to see if she recognized anyone other than On’dinn and Nanna. Everyone seemed so alien in that odd place that she figured she wouldn’t recognize even her own father in her current context.

  “Dee!” she heard a male’s excited voice honing in from behind her. “Dee, I’m over here!”

  The elfmaid strained her eyes in the gloomy light to see a bespectacled adult male jumping up and down like wild in order to flag her attention. As her eyes adjusted, she could discern that it was the spindly form of her father.

  “Father!” she shrieked as she made her way toward the lord with open arms like a little lost elfling. “You’re in my section!” she stated, with dumb joy, the obvious.

  He looked somewhat haggard. He must have had something of a rough time on his first night away from their normal family life. This caused a deep pang of worry in the maiden’s heart and she wondered if he was holding up well.

  “Did you get ahold of Mother or Kaedish?” she wanted to hear her brother’s voice in the worst way, but not so much Mother’s. As far as she knew, Mother was in compact with Venn’lith and they could have each other if she wanted to be that way.

  “Quen’die, no,” Father tried to collect his thoughts over the incessant rumblings of elves in the tunnels. “I’ve been trying all morning, but the government has the flow blocked. I just keep getting a recording on my phone and I can’t even send out a mail. I’m sure they’re okay. It’s just a really bad time to make contact with anyone other than good ol’ face to face.”

  “So, where are you staying?” she cocked her eyebrow in a manner that reminded him so much of Glynna. “Did you get a hotel room or something?”

  “No,” he stuttered as a young elf rudely squeezed between them. “I had to check into a youth hostel. All the real hotel rooms were booked and I didn’t want to break curfew, so I had to hole up with a bunch of foreign kids. Lots of university students there too.” Her father smiled to himself as he let out a small laugh. “It’s almost like my masters days all over again. That place is pretty wild.”

  “Sounds like you were having a little too much fun, eh?” his daughter joked now that she was relieved to find out he was fine. “Any university maidens chasing after you already?”

  “Heh, not quite,” he smirked as he adjusted his glasses. The notion of another female other than his wife made him a bit nervous. “I did, however, play hands of sunburst for most of the night with this rather interesting Avalonian lad,” her father raised his brows with sardonic knowledge at his daughter. “He even claims to know you. Small world, huh?”

  “Mavriel?” Quen’die exclaimed as her eyes widened to viridian saucers. “You were hanging out all night playing cards with Mavriel?”

  “Take it easy there,” he assured her. “The lad seems nice enough. I was a bit concerned that you didn’t mention him after you came home from the party on Saturnalia, but despite that creep Mitlan’s accusations, I do trust your behavior with the lad,” he looked off down the crowded tunnel for a moment. “I do think he may be a bit too old for you, but he’s a rather consoling sort. The gods know he was just what the doctor ordered for me in this dreadful time. That guy really knows how to make sense of things!”

  “I know,” his daughter stated with a bit of pride. “He’s totally going to be a priest or something one day.”

  “Well, the cleric just so happens to be in session,” Ferd’inn said with a knowing smirk. “He’s in our section somewhere right down the length of this tunnel.”

  Quen’die’s eyes were now the size of armored limmers. “Oh my gods! He’s here? I need a mirror! I must look like I stepped out of a sty! I had to run to the cornershop to get Nanna some eggs for breakfast and then with all the stress of stuffing into this stupid tunnel! He can’t see me like this!”

  “I’m somehow certain that he isn’t the frivolous type,” Father reasoned. “As a matter-of-fact, I believe he would be happy with you just as is. He spoke quite fondly of you last night.” Ferd’inn smiled with pride at the fact that he raised his daughter to be taken by such a fine lad. “I’m gonna go find my mother while you rush off to your knight in shining armor, okay?”

  At that, Quen’die launched herself at almost top speed down the shelter’s curve. The place was so crowded that she felt like she was running interference at a runta match. Despite her enthusiasm to see the plains elf again, she still made sure not to trample over any little elflings waddling around her.

  “Omygods!” she giggled to no one in particular. Mavriel was just the elf she wanted to see at that moment for so many reasons. Her spirit was flying apart in all four directions and would settle again back into home place. Realizing that she was traipsing like a baby in a sweets shop, she arrested her joy as she didn’t want the lad to see her look desperate. Another part of her didn’t really care if he saw her in such a state. In the back of her mind, she knew he would not care if her gaiety was out of hand, but just to be on the safe side, she kept herself in check.

  Not far away from the giant number “12” strapped to the somewhat menacing drop-down barrier, the seven-foot-tall Avalonian appeared to be the center of attraction. Two university-aged Kumarian females were trying with rabid effort to wrest for his attention. The pair both wore their jet-black hair in identical elbow-length pigtails. Beyond th
em, a few more hopeful maidens were ogling him, but did not seem to be quite as vocal about their fascination. Quen’die was not a bit surprised to see him hosting such a feminine crowd, but she was rather annoyed about the fawning display before her.

  “Hey, Mavriel!” Quen’die shouted with not a care if she interrupted the two giggling high elves. Since she believed he was somehow responsible for saving her good name on Saturnalia, she felt a sense of entitlement to his company. In almost an instant, she regretted such a forceful intrusion, because she remembered that guys hated clingy maidens, or so Lauryl’la claimed.

  Within the frame of a mere nanosecond, he ceased his conversation with the high elves upon hearing her call. “Quen’die Reyliss! It’s so great to see you here!”

  The two twinkie Kumarian maidens shot daggers with their deep, dark eyes at Quen’die who flashed them back a smug, victorious smirk. Jealousy was not one of Quen’die’s favorite emotions, and it was the primary cause of most catfights when females were involved, but she figured Mavriel was worth it. Considering the throng of doe eyes batting around him, she postulated that she would have to keep her guard up with some frequency if they were ever to be an item. Grabbing him could be easy, but holding on to him could prove difficult.

  “I know! It’s crazy! My father told me you guys were even hanging out at the hostel last night,” the elfmaid slammed the words out through a cheesy smile. She was no longer feeling self-conscious about her behavior and didn’t care about such customary nonsense, to be frank. “They need to make a bigger world, huh?”

  “Oh, the world is pretty big if you live in Avalon,” he said as he turned his attentions toward the Kumarians. “By the way, this is Li’linn and Gu’dip. They are here from Kumari.” He then went on to introduce the females to Quen’die in perfect Kumarian.

  “Namaste, Squealin’ and Q-tip,” Quen’die greeted with catty syrup whilst flashing a peace sign.

  “Namaste,” the two greeted likewise in sneering unison.

  “Wow! You never cease to amaze me,” Quen’die grabbed the male’s wrist to lead him away from the hungry competition. “You can even speak fluent Kumarian!”

  “You appeared to do fine with it by yourself,” he mentioned as he waved a blithe goodbye to the high elves whose disappointment to his departure was quite obvious.

  “I just said ‘hello,’” she looked back at the females, shooting them a smarmy smirk. “Everyone in Atlantis knows how to say that in Kumarian.”

  “Well anyway, we should get near one of the screens here,” Mavriel announced with a sense of foreboding as they walked under one of the viewing devices. It still displayed the Emergency Network’s home graphic. “It’s gonna get crowded.”

  “What’s the big deal?” asked Quen’die as she pointed to the banal signature. “It’s just the same old same.”

  “Cover your ears,” he warned. As if on his cue, the screen began flashing in a sputter. The terrible noise that was emitted by the pyramid earlier that morning blared through the tunnels like a tornado. It was just as loud down there as it was out on the street. “GONK!” it bellowed with hellish might. As before, Quen’die slapped her hands to her ears, yet the sound would not muffle. She thrust herself by instinct in Mavriel’s chest, and even though it did make her emotions feel warmer, she could still hear the foul blare at full force. He felt like he was made out of granite. It was such an odd sensation to be against something which felt like that, but was shaped like an elf. For a moment, she imagined that she was snuggled against a heated statue.

  After the blast had abated, she lifted her head up to the screen above them. So it seemed, the now-ziggurat-shaped hulk had opened as there were figures emerging from the very fabric of the thing’s swirling walls. There were quite a few of them and Quen’die was a bit relieved to see that they were elf-sized, instead of the giant beasts some had speculated. Moment after moment, their numbers grew. The throng of ADF forces garrisoned around the monolith was in a battle-ready position as they trained their casters at the strange new arrivals. Perhaps the Thulessian tyrant was correct? These must be genuine invaders from Mars, Quen’die thought as her heart sank to a level of hopelessness. She knew that this was going to be a bloodbath and she too could be dead by tonight.

  “This isn’t good,” Mavriel moaned with slow warning. “I just knew this would happen.”

  Knew what, wondered Quen’die? How could some random lad from Avalon over at the university know anything about what was in those pyramids? He was not just a mystery; he was becoming kind of weird.

  The maiden strained her eyes with the rest of her fellow audience to see what the exact nature of these beings was. They looked so small on the screen and the picture provided wasn’t of the best resolution. Upon very close inspection, Quen’die thought she saw dark brownish wings folded onto the backs of the figures. Perhaps they were just backpacks, or maybe some kind of cloak.

  Wings, supposed the maiden once again. Just like that creepy thing she had seen with Lauryl’la the week before on the bluffs. Perhaps the two were somehow linked to each other? Regardless of their origin, they weren’t slowing down their sauntering advance despite the barking warnings of the ADF.

  “What’s going on here?” Quen’die asked the plains elf. “What do you know about all of this?”

  “Just watch,” he whispered into her ear.

  The proud figure that appeared to lead the entourage out of the ziggurat’s bare walls was female, and that was a definite. She looked to be as tall as Mavriel and wore her bronze hair in a cascade of thick curls. Her bangs were blunt straight across her forehead and under those bangs was a beautiful, if not a bit haughty, face. The mirrors recording the broadcast focused in on her for the best close-up they could get at their timid range. Quay’liss Dalian would be having a field day with this one. The “leader” raised her left hand with elegance and opened her lush mouth.

  “People of Corosa!” she announced in a perfect Atlantean dialect into a swirling golden horn which she gripped in her right hand. “We are unarmed and we mean you no ill! Train your weapons on us all you wish, but we promise you that no attack will come from us!”

  Quay’liss Dalian was bold. This boldness was usual for her, but her next actions could have been construed as suicidal by any normal elf. Upon hearing of the apparent benevolent nature of these arrivals, she jumped to seize the moment and marched herself with haste through the field of vigilant armors. On the caption at the bottom of the screen rolled the words, “’Aliens’ alleged to mean no harm.”

  The reporter was decked out in her “dug-in” attire which consisted of a blue denim workcloak and light armor padding. On the back of her armor, the word “PRESS” was advertised. The reporter looked a bit ridiculous with the small, white pot helm on her head as streaks of her platinum hair fell out in dashing locks from under its brim. “Uh, Hi and greetings!” the newsie began with bravado as she believed herself to be the first elf to make vocal contact with these alien life forms. “My name is Quay’liss Dalian and welcome to planet Earth! Love your hair, by the way.”

  “Greetings Quay’liss Dalian and greetings to the people of the planet Earth!” bellowed the lithe form into her horn. “I am High President Glasya Labolas of the Aldebaran Hegemony. We have arrived to offer you a magnificent service and opportunity.”

  “Here, Madame President, you can use one of these microphones instead of that big ol’ horn. These have four-dimensional surround sound and stereophonic resolution,” she rambled as she handed Glasya the mic. “Sounds so much better on the manascreen.” Dalian turned around with a plastic smile to the other reporters scrabbled below her to pose for an impromptu mirror session with the striking alien.

  “Eh, right,” Glasya murmured as she studied the device with a cocked and somewhat confused brow. “Many thanks.”

  “M-Hmm! No Problem!” the reporter was overdoing it with her familiarity of these beings. What if they were riddled with some kind of disease that would instantly k
ill all of elfdom, Quen’die wondered? How droll would it be if the entire elven race were wiped out just because Quay’liss Dalian wanted the big scoop first?

  “We of the Aldebaran Hegemony are a system of worlds many light years from yours,” the High President began her lofty speech. “We wish to speak with your council of leaders to discuss a partnership plan between our civilizations. We must apologize for our timidity in opening our vehicles as we were quarantining ourselves to make sure that we were safe to enter your atmosphere and environment. We also wanted the time to learn your language so that we can communicate with each other efficiently. I do hope that you people can understand me properly.”

  “Yeah, right Glasya,” Mavriel spat under his hissing breath. “You practically invented half of the Atlantean language ages ago.” To that, Quen’die shot the plains elf a bewildered look and shook her head. What was this lad on about?

  “In the coming days and weeks, we do wish that we can open a friendly and mutual dialogue,” the brazen female continued. “This will involve each and every one of you as your leaders will be assured to inform. We also offer our sincerest condolences for your people who had suffered the disaster on the planet Mars. We have foreseen this event and are here to assist you with this terrible debacle first and foremost.”

  “Your people can actually see the future?” Dalian cut into Glasya’s speech.

  “Not exactly, Quay’liss Dalian,” she answered. “We can, however, track the movements of lifeforms across a fair portion of the galaxy. When we had observed a discrepancy between the native populations of the Martian world versus the activity of your outpost, we knew that the native life was going to attack yours. We regret to inform you that we could not reach your expedition in time to save it, but saving them was not our goal. Such an effort would have been pointless, I am sad to say. We have arrived, to be blunt, to save you people here on Earth.”

  A concerned rumble of voices churned through the dark of the tunnel and not a soul present could help but wonder upon hearing that statement. What was going to happen and why did the people of Earth need saving? From what or from whom? Little by little, a relay of crying toddlers and elflings lit up through the shelter as they could tell by instinct that their parents were distressed.

  “You filthy liar!” Mavriel clenched his teeth at the tall figure dominating the screen. Quen’die did not let this outburst from her new friend slip by this time. By the dull-blue light of the manascreen, she could see that the lad’s eyes were tearing up a bit from under his intense frown. What could he have possibly known about all of this, she fretted?

  “What’s going on Mavriel?” Quen’die shook his stony arm. “Why is this lady bothering you? Don’t tell me you know her too?”

  “Quen’die, I have been trying to get a hold of you ever since that party and I need to speak with you about all of this,” he told her with solid gravity; almost as if lecturing.

  “What do you mean?” the maiden slinked back with a quick reaction. This guy was getting weirder and weirder. “I don’t get it.”

  “Look at my arm,” he said as he displayed the once-bandaged appendage. On his wrist was an infinity symbol identical to the one on Quen’die’s belly; a perfect match. Upon closer inspection, it was not a henna application or even a real ink tattoo, but it was the same variety of blemished flesh. All the imperfections and curves of the shape were formed in an exact replica of her mark.

  “Oh my gods!” Quen’die recoiled as her eyes all but popped out of their shallow sockets. “You are totally psycho!” An icy shiver ran though her body and she wanted to find her father as soon as possible. Remembering in that instant that he was staying at the same hostel as this weirdo made her heart sink. What if this Mavriel guy tried to hurt him, she feared?

  “Quen’die, don’t!” Mavriel tried. “It’s not what you think!”

  “I’m going to find my Papa!” she cried in elfling-like terror as she dissolved into the safety of the thick crowd. “Get away from me, freak!”

  On the screen, the superimposition scrolled, “Aldebarans are reportedly friendly. High President Glasya to meet with Princess Regent and Prime Minister on Midweek. Aldebarans have wings and can fly! More announcements as news develops. Quay’liss Dalian - the first earthling to speak with an alien life form and lives to tell the tale!”

  As Mavriel poked his head over the swarm of bustling elves, the all-clear warning sounded throughout the shelter by the time he realized that his young ward had slipped away from him. This was not the time to blow it, he thought as he skulked back in silent defeat.