The Ancients and the Angels: Celestials

by M.C. O'Neill

  ***

  In the little guest room backstage, Glynna Reyliss was waging a valiant battle with Kaedish’s wild curls by spit-polishing them down. She was losing that battle as his unruly locks sprung back up in defiance with every one of her salivating efforts.

  “Oh, Kaedish, we really should take you to a professional to get rid of these cowlicks. Maybe we can get you a mana-infusion treatment. This is ridiculous,” she lamented as more of the coppery strands misbehaved.

  “Well, Mother, it’s not my fault! I have Father’s hair!” he protested in his defense.

  “That you do,” she winced.

  Having to think about Ferd’inn was not on the top of her priorities on this nerve-wracking day. It seemed like every hour on the hour she was thinking about the other half of her family that morning. Why this was creeping into her mind was annoying to her as she had been stuffing it way in the back of her brain, to be honest, for the past week. She had been doing that for the past four months, the more she thought about it. Was something going wrong with them that she was detecting through her subconscious? A mother’s vigilant intuition? It was possible. After all, Quen’die was stuck in Nanna’s horrible old neighborhood and Ferd’inn may have been a freezing streetbound for all she knew.

  Pictures of her husband huddling in some alphabetically-named refugee camp of the ADF trying to scarf the last grains of putrid rice out of his bowl flashed through her mind like an elfling’s cartoon picture scroll. She could smell the saline bolts of sorrow pressing on the back of her sinuses and she knew this was the preamble to a cloudburst of tears. With haste, she sucked back the woe and thought about nice and neutral Kumarian vases just to bury the worry. She didn’t need to micromanage a tear-stained face and Kaedish’s wild hair at the same time while Venn’lith was priming the youth of the kingdom for the grand journey. Later, in her spare and lonely time, she would deal with those terrible feelings, but until then, a laissez faire stance on the subject was for the best.

  While Glynna stamped down another curl on the young elf’s head, her phone summoned her, “Lady Reyliss, your husband calls you.”

  A bolt of shock ran up her back and the stink of salt water resurfaced into her nose. It would only be seconds before her makeup would smear, but she felt compelled to answer this call as it must have confirmed her suspicions. Those suspicions were rather dreadful.

  “Hello, Ferd’inn,” she answered in the coldest voice she could muster.

  “Glynna, it’s me,” he was almost whispering. Did this signify real trouble, she wondered?

  “That’s what the phone says,” she huffed to remind him that he was stating the obvious. Work up annoyance with him, she trained her heart to think for her. It would be the best tactic to belay the sadness that was brewing at top speed from within. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Well, what isn’t,” her husband countered. He could tell that the tone in her voice was all but inviting, but he needed to let her know that everything was all right with him and her daughter. “How are you holding up?”

  “Just fine. I’m at the screenstudios right now,” she attempted to put a smile into her dour voice as she said that. Fabulous times, fabulous places, fabulous people. It wasn’t to make him jealous, he was too low to even feel that emotion, she was certain, but it was just to put her in a better mood. The pressure building behind her eyeballs indicated that she was losing that soulful battle.

  “Wow, you leave the house and you’re already on the manascreen,” he tried to sound mirthful.

  Glynna did detect a bit of sarcastic envy in that voice. This was a good thing, she assumed, as perhaps he would manage to aggravate her and then the urge to cry would be all but overridden. Yes, she would be sure to arrange a fight with him at that moment just so she could get him off the phone. “Yes, Centeo invited me to his daughter’s broadcast. Did you see it? It’s on every station.”

  “Centeo Mitlan? Our boss?” Ferd’inn did not even bother to suppress the jealousy with that.

  “You mean my boss, yes,” the lady confirmed in a blunt tone. “Must I remind you that our daughter’s behavior put the kibosh to your tenure at the Circle?” It was working, she thought as sorrow was giving way to the resentment she had felt and this was good.

  “Look,” her husband tried to save. “It wasn’t exactly like you had heard. Quen’die has a much different take on the situation.”

  “Ferd’inn,” she held back the desire to growl. “We have touched on this already and we have both heard from Centeo’s report that Quen’die is not the person we have come to believe in. I’d go over all of it again with you, but just thinking about it makes me want to pull my hair out. The only thing I care about is that she is physically fine. Otherwise, I can’t bother myself with it.”

  “I can’t believe you feel that way,” the elf shot with brewing anger. “Yes, if you want to know, the maiden is fine physically.”

  Lady Reyliss set off to isolate in the small supply room adjoining the guest’s room. If Kaedish got too much wind of the conversation, he’d be lit up like a funeral pyre and she didn’t want to contend with that intrusive drama either.

  It was too late. “Mother,” Kaedish quipped like a puppy. “Is that Father?” he was already gesturing to her for the phone. “I wanna talk to him!”

  “Hang on,” Glynna ordered the other end of the flow. “Kaedish, stop it!” Her words were a harsh hissing whisper. Her son could tell by the look on her face that no matter who it was on the phone, he was not privy to that conversation and there would be no way that he could convince Mother to cut in on it. Without further protest, he backed away, wide-eyed.

  Swiping an orange elixir from the racks of sugary refreshments in the supply room, Glynna returned her attention to the phone. “I’ll let you talk to Kaedish in time, Ferd’inn. He’s just so riled up right now with being in the studio that I don’t need the stress of him running loose all over the place. Please just back off for now.”

  “Okay, will do,” Ferd’inn relented. “That’s fine. I have plenty of time.”

  “Thank you, Ferd’inn,” his wife said with a blow of relief. “Look, as you can probably tell, I’m really busy right now and this isn’t a good time. I really must be off.”

  “Glynna,” he stalled her from cutting the flow. “Where are you?”

  “Like I said, I’m at the studio,” she made sure to communicate her aggravation with that. She knew very well what he meant by his plaintive question, however.

  “I don’t mean that,” his voice was evidencing its own fluster. “I mean where are you staying?”

  There were so many possible ways to answer this, she guessed. This question was inevitable and the fact that he pled for it during her hectic time at this event was more than a terrible bother. Really, she figured, there was never going to be a good time for such honesty. Her quick intellect catalogued all those possible answers with the speed of a central databank and she opted for bluntness. In fair hope, the answer would shut her husband up and the flow would sever, once and for all.

  “Centeo’s,” she hit him with her biting rock and made certain to use only his first name to impress familiarity.

  “I knew it.” She could hear his breath growing deeper. He was holding back a building rage and soon, this conversation would end. “I just knew it! Ever since he rolled out his posh red carpet and threw his weight around the lab like he owned it and…”

  “He does own it, Ferd’inn,” she boasted as if she too shared the fruits of the elder’s lifelong labor. “Why, he already tends to over sixty-percent of the facility’s stock. Sorry to break the bad news.”

  “So? Why should that affect us?” he asked with a cry.

  “Because if you held yourself with a bit of spine, maybe I could respect you and your role as a husband and a father, but as we can plainly see by Quen’die’s behavior, you have failed miserably on your part.” There, she thought. That should do it.

  “The maiden did nothing wrong a
s I was trying to explain,” he was raising his voice as she had expected. Glynna knew she would soon be able to take the opportunity to disengage.

  “Ferd’inn, how can you say that?” she began with no intention of letting him expound. “Centeo explained it all quite clearly, and might I say, professionally. Do you realize how embarrassing it was for me to stand in that office that horrible afternoon and hear all about her transgressions from someone who doesn’t even know her? How could this have escaped you? Our daughter is violent, she’s devious, and I don’t even want to go on about her…other behaviors.”

  “She is not!” he tried to quash a scream in Quen’die’s defense. “That robber baron can have my job and even my name, but there’s no way I will let him tarnish my daughter’s reputation! That’s right, Glynna! MY daughter’s! If she’s so terrible, why is she a star athlete and top student? Why didn’t he fire us both? Think about it, Glynna! He wanted me out of the picture and his daughter wanted Quen’die out of her way. He’s a sociopathic criminal as far as I’m concerned and one day soon, you and Kaedish are both going to feel the sting of his nefarious schemes. He loves nobody! He just isn’t capable of it!”

  “Are you quite finished, Ferd’inn?” Glynna seethed. “I hope you know I didn’t hear a word you just said. From what I gathered it was: ‘Blah, blah…Blah, blah blah. Or something to that effect.”

  “You are evil. Pure and simple. I don’t know what kind of spell that miscreant has over you, but you are completely bewitched by it,” he knew this would enrage his wife, but he needed it off his chest. It would only be seconds before true screaming started.

  “And you are a fool!” Glynna hollered back. “You are a powerless milquetoast that will never take the initiative in life! How can I, as a wife and our children ever respect that? So meek and humble. Those qualities are great for a dirty street prophet, but make for a lousy husband and father. You’ll never pad a proper nest as you are!”

  “No, Glynna,” he stated with a cold matter-of-fact. “I can pad a nest just fine. It’s a den of serpents you want and I wish you would have communicated that desire to me years ago. Then I could have learned about your true color, but unfortunately for you, dead-black isn’t one!”

  “I’m hanging up,” she stated with equal bluntness. “Maybe you can hug brand-new alien trees when we make it to the new world. Okay, Hippie? B-Bye.”

  The small mirror at the back of the rather dusty room treated Glynna to a fright. Her cold pancake face was streaked with her warm, flushed skin. The tactic to offset the tears didn’t work and she had not realized it. It would take another half hour to fix this mess set before her and she cursed her stupid husband for triggering the sad bout. She cursed herself for welcoming it by her own nature.

  “Mother!” it was Kaedish. “What’s going on? I want to talk to Father!”

  “Not now, Kaedish. We’ll talk to him later,” she said through the locked door. She needed to be in complete solitude at that moment.

  “Glynna!” another male’s voice boomed. “It’s Centeo. It was all a resounding success! Venn’lith is taking the kingdom by storm already! You need to see the pre-signatures for the Parliament! They’re spilling in like a flood! They love her!”

  “That’s great, Centeo!” Glynna snorted back a sickening sob. “I’ll be right out! Need to fix my face!”

  “All right!” he hollered back through the wood. “I’ll be out front.”

  Uncapping the elixir, she took a healthy swig. It tasted like urine and she spit it out into a small basin below the mirror. The combination of the acidic resentment, her saline sorrow and the phony orange aftertaste was all too much for her senses and emotions. Looking deep into her own eyes, she broke into a silent bawl.

  Sweet Six-Six-Sixteen

  That Feastday was the first of Fifthmoon and it ushered in Quen’die Ferd’inna Reyliss’ sixteenth year at 3:08 a.m. on the dot. The bright morning awoke her with yet another replayed broadcast featuring her arch-nemesis’ plea to the children of Atlantis on the immense adwheel that was limping outside her window. It was horrible enough that the blasted thing treated her to a rude awakening every day in her new home, but to be subjected to forty feet of manacast evil on repeat was the last straw.

  The elfmaid tore open the wispy curtains of her bedroom and stared square into the prerecorded onyx eyes of Venn’lith Mitlan and her phony display of syrupy sincerity. On a normal day, Quen’die considered herself to be a rather tolerant, even forgiving, sort, but since this disgusting sun elf had ruined her life in the matter of a day, she realized she was experiencing her first taste of true spite.

  “Eww…’and I invite each and every one of you, with love,’” Quen’die mimicked the Xochian’s speech with whining mockery. “And I invite my foot up your rear!” she added with a vengeful holler. Four stories below on the street, a young male craned his neck upward to identify the source of the angry shout. With much embarrassment, the maiden ducked back into her room.

  “Okay, I’m going crazy,” she whispered to herself as she thrust her back against the wall and shut her eyes until they hurt. “I can’t believe I’m trying to pick a fight with the adwheel.” Upon reopening her lids and collecting her senses, she heard her empty stomach squeal.

  Seeing Venn’lith appointed to that governmental office last night on the screen for the first time had sent Quen’die into a bale of rage and tears. Nanna had to almost restrain her from punching in the canvas. Considering that the government was falling for these infernals’ dreadful plans, it was no surprise that Venn’lith was in league with them too. Quen’die assumed the Xochian was having the time of her life at it as well. That fiend deserved to go to the hells, Quen’die thought but was arrested by a touch of regret. If this Inferno was as horrible as Mavriel had claimed, not even Venn’lith needed to be there, despite how much Quen’die held the notion that she may have very well hated her.

  Knowing the true nature of these visitors was almost too much to bear. What would she do about it? How much would Mavriel help her? When would she begin this tremendous fight against them? So many questions she had and all Mavriel could tell her was that she would know when the opportunity arose. Quen’die almost entertained the idea that Mavriel was somehow conning her, but Nanna had confirmed his position as righteous. What a horrible job I have, she moaned to herself.

  “Gods, I’m so hungry,” she continued with her self-talk. “As if I weren’t skinny enough, how can I ever expect to build any more muscle with this stupid martial rationing?”

  If the gods could hear her, she thought, Nanna would be up already and they could have breakfast. As it stood, she was so famished she didn’t care if the meal consisted of sawdust and horse’s lard. Sparking her anger yet again, Quen’die figured Venn’lith was feasting on a seven course meal at that very moment.

  As expected, Nanna was up and puttering around her narrow kitchen. Quen’die couldn’t smell anything yet, so she supposed Nanna had just begun the preparations. This nagged at the maiden, as she couldn’t wait to eat something.

  “Dee! You’re up early!” Nanna beamed as she bent down to retrieve a muffin tin from the bottom cupboards. “I was just about to make cranberry muffins today. It’s over the ration limit, but you do realize today is special for us!”

  “Huh?” the elfmaid was rubbing the morning red from her green eyes. “I don’t… Yeah, Nanna. I was just awoken by that stupid adwheel again. How long has it been like that?”

  “Oh, that dreadful thing has been bobbing through the streets like that for about a month now.” Nanna grabbed some salts from the larder. “The city probably figures there’s no sense in fixing it anymore if we are going away soon. I’m so sorry that your room is facing the street. I guess I didn’t think about that when your father informed me you were staying here for a spell.”

  “No worries, Nanna,” Quen’die chirped. “So, what’s so special about today, anyhow?” the maiden cocked her red brows into a twist of confusion.
/>
  “What do you mean, ‘What’s so special about today?’” the old lady laughed as she set down a jug of molasses on the counter. “Have you checked your calendar?”

  The young elfmaid all but forgot about this day. The sixteenth birthday was so momentous for an elf from anywhere in the world. To be honest, she never knew why there was such a great importance attached to it. After all, she wasn’t yet an adult as that day wouldn’t arrive for another two years, but it did signify the permission to drive a coach. With all the relentless, terrible events happening to and around her for the last two weeks, such a trivial notion as a birthday, in truth, had escaped her mind. Seeing how broke she and her father were, Quen’die supposed a shining hot coach with a bright pink ribbon on top would not be in the courtyard waiting for her. To think of it, Quen’die reasoned, Nanna didn’t even have a proper courtyard in the first place.

  “Erm…,” the maiden began with a touch of disappointment, char-broiled with a hint of resentment. “My birthday. The big sixteen.”

  “Oh, honey!” Nanna moaned with a happy sentiment for her granddaughter. “You aren’t supposed to feel that way about your birthday until at least fifty! Maybe even sixty. Why, I’m almost ninety and I still love my birthday.” Nanna searched the ornate upper cupboards for some olive oil. The thin lady was so tall that she didn’t even need to use a stepstool to search for the ingredients all the way up there. “With every one of them I get amazing new memories and the older I get, the better those memories are.”

  “Well,” Quen’die countered with a groan. “I definitely would like to forget the last two weeks of my life, that’s for sure. I mean, how can so many terrible things happen to one maiden and the whole world around her over such a short matter of time?” Like a flicker of manamirrors, she recalled in summation the foul happenings of her recent past. “I…I don’t wanna go into it.”

  Nanna turned to her precious granddaughter and placed her gentle hands on her drooping shoulders. Even at her advanced age, there was nary a wrinkle on her smooth skin. “Then we won’t, Dee. Today is special for you and I have a big surprise, so don’t be too sullen, okay?”

  A look of distrust mixed with glee spread across the maiden’s face at that. What possible surprise could Nanna be speaking of, she wondered? Surprises were always the best when you were feeling low. It was like being launched out of a sucking sinkhole only to find out that you are able to fly. Quen’die was feeling that sweet sensation rise through her as fast as a sports-limmer as she saw the hinting gleam in Nanna’s eyes. “Okay,” the maiden relented with a smirk.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m on about after we make breakfast,” Nanna said before chanting the hearth to warm life. “I can hear your belly from over here, and your father would have my hide if he found out I wasn’t feeding you!”

  The muffins were amazing and they tasted better than any others she had ever tried; much better than those mass-produced hunks of cardboard served at the Sea and Shell. Even if she weren’t starving that morning, Quen’die decided that they would still be the ultimate in the annals of muffin-baking history. At times like that, Quen’die really felt grateful to have such a wonderful grandmother.

  “I think I could eat five more of those, Nanna!” she exclaimed as she debated chasing the crumbs off her plate. “I think I want to be a pig when I grow up! Can I major in that at university?”

  That question almost brought Nanna to the verge of immediate tears. If Mavriel couldn’t thwart this deception with success, her granddaughter would never know the joys of university adventure or any joy whatsoever again. Throughout her years of study and contact with beings from other dimensions, Nanna had seen good spirits and she had seen bad ones too. In all honesty, she thought, the bad ones were quite horrific, yet so faulty. How they had ever managed to get this far in their vile plans amazed the old mystic. The infernals were so violent and paranoid that she was almost certain that this whole design would fail due to their selfish qualities all on their own. She decided that she would pray night and day for Quen’die’s safety and success in this grand trial regardless. “Sure, you can, Dee. I believe that.”

  “Eh…okay, Nanna!” her granddaughter flashed the lady a mistrustful grimace, as if she was insane. “Whatever you say! I’ll be the best pig in the world!”

  “Before you do begin your path to ultimate swinehood,” Nanna grabbed the dirty plates for the both of them. “We need to go downstairs to the courtyard. I have something very special to show you.”

  “And what might that be, Nanna?” Quen’die’s eyes were bulging with excitement. She needed that pleasant surprise in light of the darkness she had been suffering through. “Another stay under the playground?”

  “No,” Nanna laughed. “Nothing that dismal. Come with me and I’ll show you, but I need you to grab your tablet first.”

  Quen’die still didn’t know what Nanna was going on about and she was intrigued as to why she needed her tablet, but the maiden figured that it would be better just to enjoy the trip downstairs. Throwing on a breezy green bandana-wrap, she and her grandmother set out.

  Morning was so bright that day and the scents of spring were stronger than usual for that time. It was almost as if the flowers, shrubs and bushes were celebrating Quen’die’s birthday along with her. Celebrating the birth of the “Chosen One,” according to Mavriel. That moniker he had attached to her the other night had been sticking into her brain and she wasn’t too keen on it the more she thought. It was certain that she was no stranger to responsibility and she considered herself to be rather competent, but “saving elfdom” was quite the tall order. Nevertheless, it was her sixteenth birthday and she didn’t want to dwell on that. She wanted to take a one-day vacation from her lofty position as world savior.

  Grandmother led her to the back of the apartment block into a dingy little alley. At the dead end of the dusty road, a small shack stood in the ominous shade. The shadows of the alley almost blotted out the sun of that day. Barring the intrusive adwheel’s visit outside her window every morning, Quen’die was thankful that her little room didn’t face this dark side of the building.

  Nanna sauntered over to the door of the shed and pulled it wide open with a shocking strength for someone of her old age. “Come in closer, Dee. There’s nothing in here that will bite, I promise.”

  Recessed in the gloom of the tiny structure was a strange-looking device of some sorts. As Quen’die approached closer, she saw that it was indeed a little vehicle. Nanna summoned the shed’s light and revealed a small buggy resting in the center of the room. The maiden’s eyes lit-up the second she realized what it was she was looking at.

  The buggy was about fifty years old or older, as far as Quen’die’s limited knowledge of coaches went. It was small, yet still large enough to seat four in comfort and was covered with a convertible white canvas top. Over the years, Nanna must have taken proud care of it because the paint job was still quite slick. Well, it was much tidier than Lauryl’la’s ragged beater, the maiden judged. The best part about it, she noted, was that it was adorned in her favorite and signature color. A red buggy for the Red Tempest.

  “Oh my gods!” she squealed with shock. “Can I drive this today? Please! You gotta let me!”

  “Well,” Nanna intoned with slow grace. “I suppose you can drive it since I am giving it to you.”

  “Are you serious?” she gasped, almost choking. “This buggy is mine?”

  Nanna moved over to the side of the antique vehicle and looked like a showcase model for a moment as the light fell across her lithe body. For all Quen’die knew, Nanna may very well have been such a model at some point in her adventurous life. “I never drive this thing anymore. I seriously doubt I have hopped in it since well before you were born. Since I live downtown now, I really have no use for it and I think it’s important that you have something to get around in. Yes, Quen’die, I know it’s not much, but this is yours.”

  “So, what do we do? My friend Rylla says I
need to ‘signify’ or something like that.” Quen’die looked at the tablet in her hand and assumed that was why Nanna asked her to bring it along.

  “Yes, you need to signify with the buggy in order to operate it,” her grandmother affirmed. “Once that’s over, you can summon it and it will respond to your whim! It’s that simple!” Nanna patted the lip of the vehicle’s driver side as the model had no true door. “Here, just hop in and set your right hand on the trackball and place your left hand on your tablet’s screen. I’ll upload the permissions to you.”

  It felt really weird, thought Quen’die as a warm buzzing sensation crawled up her arm like an invasive fluid. Within seconds, she began to feel light-headed as if in a trance, but still quite lucid. The static feeling soon made its way through her whole body and she almost wondered if she were caught in a neural loop. “Wow, this feels really strange, Nanna!”

  “It’ll be over soon. I just need for you to read aloud the words that are scrolling over your hand on your tablet,” Her grandmother eyed the maiden with pride and felt very grateful just to be able to share this moment with her despite her family’s trying times. Of all the things she had accomplished in her long life, Nanna Orsi decided she was happiest when she could spread her joy to others. “Some of the words are a bit odd, but just work out their phonics and the flow will take hold.”

  The elfmaid waited for the first word to zoom over her fingertips across the canvas screen. “Quen’die Reyliss” she read aloud. Easy enough, she decided. “Maiden…Elf…Girl…”

  That was the one Rylla was telling her about the other night on the bluffs. It wasn’t “Gorl,” it was “Girl.” Perhaps Nanna knew what it meant.

  “Buggy…Dolphin…Monkey…” What did monkeys and dolphins have to do with driving? Quen’die grinned as she recited the foolish words.

  “Manaball…Permission…Reyliss Quen’die.” The scrolling feed of words ended with that and a surge in the buzzing tingle kicked the maiden’s brain. Without knowing it, she crossed her green eyes and needed to readjust her vision from the intense bolt to her mind. The tingle was no longer moving through her and she felt the clear awareness of her surroundings the moment a mellow ping emitted from her tablet.

  “Congratulations and thank you, Quen’die Reyliss,” the tablet sang in consumer triumph. “I am now at your service. Remember to shop at Public Manaball for all your travelling needs!”

  “So, is that it?” the elfmaid asked her grandmother. “I can drive this now?” Quen’die placed her right palm on her temple and tried to ascertain if she felt somehow altered by the cryptic experience. As she thought about it, she felt no different at all. Maybe the strange ceremony in which she just engaged had failed? “I dunno, Nanna. I don’t feel any different. Maybe I said some of those weird words wrong or something. Maybe this buggy’s too old to properly work anymore.”

  “Oh, these things can last forever,” Nanna chuckled. “You can most certainly drive it now. You did just fine!”

  “Well, I guess I’m just going to have to see for myself! Hop in!” Quen’die cheered as she honked the horn of the vehicle. Despite its vintage model, she felt at home the instant she settled in its helm. The time was at hand and she would at last be mobile within seconds.

  “No, you go have fun,” Nanna made her way out of the narrow garage. “I need to finish cleaning up the kitchen. I made a mess with those muffins.”

  “Okay, Nanna,” her granddaughter called back. “I promise I won’t wreck!”

  To that, Nanna began laughing as she made her way to the flatblock’s door. “Yes, please don’t do that.”

  Alone, Quen’die sat in the dimness of the shack and felt a strange and sudden apprehension. What was it she had to do now, she asked herself? The buggy was much different than a standard size coach like her folks’. Almost as if by some strange magic, she became aware of a wellspring of intuition and knowledge that was alien to her just moments before.

  “Capso abrenn Quen’die!” she sung by instinct in manaspeech. Her new buggy rose to life as the purring noise of its manaball resounded throughout the small space of the garage. The maiden was rather shocked to hear how steady and clean the pulse was considering the vehicle’s age. It was much smoother than Lauryl’la’s coach, which was for certain.

  When she touched the small trackball nestled in front of her, she felt the instant buzzing jolt of her signification from earlier. This circuit was much stronger, however, and she could feel nothing short of raw power pulsing through her spine only to collect at the base of her brain. Alternate feelings of glee and disgust flashed in her heart as the experience wasn’t fully a pleasant one. Lauryl’la did mention to her that it would be odd at first, but that she would get used to it. Now that she was in the flow with the vehicle, Quen’die could tell for sure that her mind was somehow changed, as if she were now one with the hunk of cured wood that was this buggy.

  The Feastday commuter traffic had died down by the time Quen’die navigated the tight streets of the downtown neighborhoods. It didn’t matter to her where she was going, as she was now a free maiden and could drive this thing all the way north to Caidhul if she wanted to. Mana energy coursed through her legs and her back, and within a short time, she became accustomed to its throb just as Lauryl’la had promised. Sixteen really was a sweet year to be an elfmaid as, for the first time, she really felt like an adult.

  Her waking trance was interrupted as she drove the buggy past a civil warden’s substation. Waiting at the traffic light, she could see their burly forms milling in and out of the double front doors. Unlike the usual, they were all decked out in heavier armor which Quen’die supposed was due to the rash of crises and martial law going on. The moment an immense figure walked out of the station, the maiden felt a pang of dread travel through her. It was very tall, dark and winged. The male infernal gave a cordial wave to his elven counterparts as if he had been stationed there for years.

  She thought it was so sickening that these terrible forces were now embedded with her government. How would she be able to convince anybody that they meant nothing but terror for the whole world? Nobody would listen to her, she surmised. The burning question reemerged for the hundredth time since Mavriel had announced her duty: “Why would Ui ‘choose’ me?”

  Worse than ever, Quen’die felt the need to call her father. He wasn’t the most steadfast of lords, but he was still hers. She sped the buggy past the towering infernal and, by reaction, sneered at him. Like the instinct of knowing how to drive, her scorn for these “Aldebarans” was a second nature. She didn’t care if the fiend saw her shoot him the stinkeye as she couldn’t quite help it. Catch it he did, as he stared back at her and puffed out his chest in confused challenge - What’s the big deal, maiden?

  Driving and phoning were not a problem either. It was almost as if the buggy would drive on its own directives while she summoned Father.

  “Father! Guess where I’m calling from?” Quen’die giggled.

  “Eh, the pyramids,” he replied with sleep in his voice. Perhaps he had another long night in the youth hostel, she wondered?

  “Ugh, no!” she winced. “I’m phoning you from my buggy!”

  “What?” he said with apparent shock. “Let me guess; is it red with a white ragtop?”

  “You got it!” she cheered.

  “I can’t believe Nanna gave you that old thing!” her father began laughing on the other end of the flow. “I was younger than you when she bought that! I’m surprised it still runs. Gods, it was old even back then. I totally forgot she had that thing.”

  “Well, it runs like a charm and I love it!” she boasted with pride. “It’s even in my favorite color!”

  “You are the Red Tempest,” Ferd’inn intoned. “Say Quen’die, tonight Hal’rinn Hay’cenn wants us over for dinner. He wants to propose a job offer for me with the Home Guard or something like that, and I could really use the support. What say you chauffer your old lord in style?”

  “Totall
y!” she beamed. “I can finally see Rylla again too. Mother blocked her from my flow and she doesn’t want me to speak to her anymore because she’s convinced that she’s the one giving me professional lessons. This, by the way, is a total lie.”

  “Quen’die,” her father’s tone became less excited. “I don’t know what else to say, but things between she and I have been getting sourer. I really don’t want to go into it on your birthday, okay? Let’s just have fun tonight with some good friends and you can zoom around town all you and Rylla want.”

  He was correct in it being the last thing she wanted to hear on her birthday. Mother was in a funk and the maiden had been praying to all the Twelve that she would come to her senses and take her family back, but deep down in Quen’die’s gut, she knew that Mother was all but lost and for the foreseeable future. When such a grave sorrow happens, it is too much for the heart to take, she thought, and the mind allows you to stuff it. “Okay, Father. Let’s go out and have some fun! I’ll drive.”