by Jack Challis
Bryn Jones the Wino understood very well indeed and responded accordingly.
‘Well do you know I can remember events twenty years past…but sometimes have trouble remembering what happened twenty minutes ago….’ The Wino of Tala Pandy held out his hand for the young policeman’s last fiver.
Back on the foresters’ track, where it ends at the deep pool, Giggling, Grunwalde slams on the breaks of her brand new but now totally battered car. The three hobs are hurled headlong onto the stony ground hurting themselves again. They mumbled curses under their breath as they rubbed their injured bodies; making sure they cursed the car and not the driver – their beautiful young Mistress.
‘Now get out you lazy, useless imbeciles and make sure you push this car into the deepest part of the pool,’ she orders.
‘Oh, can’t we keep it Mistress… to play with…to practice hot-wiring?’ asks Bulrus Khan.
‘I will hot-wire your arse – just get on with it,’ orders Grunwalde giving the leader of the Hobs a hard kick in his fat behind. The three Hobs push grunting and groaning until the battered new car falls with a mighty splash and disappears in a frenzy of bubbles and cascades of splashes. The three Hobs knew not to argue with the Queen of the Fairies.
Chapter Twelve
The Lord Tarrbanabus of Golgin Hade
Requiem of the Fairy Queen.
No tall pallbearers; three times two.
No damp, cold grave to await decay.
Just to lie and sleep in woodland wild. Dispensing in a burst of fragrant spray:
To float upwards and become an immortal, Star-Child carefree and gay.
‘Now leave me alone,’ orders the Queen of the Fairies, after the new car had sunk to the depths of the deep pool, ‘listen out for my summons.’
‘We will be at the main road, Your Highness,’ says one Tartarus Hob. ‘A dead badger lies there rotting – stinking – shining,’ says another.
‘Then, we will travel to the dump a skip-mining,’ say the last Hob.
‘What are you three? A musical hall act already, you will be wanting to go on the stage next,’ snaps Grunwalde. ‘Get out of my sight – and don’t roll on the dead badger – you stink enough,’ orders their Queen.
The three brutes bow deeply. Then, turning towards the gloom of the leafy woods they faded from view; the flimsy silk curtains of summer night were falling at that magical time. With many backward glances of regret at the still rising bubbles breaking the surface of the deep pool, the three Hobs leave.
‘I know how to get the car back… without our Queen knowing!’ announces Bunderhund the Hob, the least intelligent of the three.
‘How fool?’ snaps Bulrus Khan, their leader.
‘We just…err…err,’ damn-it – I have forgotten…I should have said it straight away – when I first thought of it. Arrr – yes, now I remember…we just – damn it… I have forgotten again.’
‘Son of a bitch!’ swears Bellbinder.
Back at the deep pool under the towering trees, Grunwalde sat on a rock and gazed at the waterfall’s singing cascades; real tears trickled down her pale cheeks for she was still half human and was capable of feeling grief. She knew that her parents were now driving, on their way back to Tala Pandy from Harlech. Apropos, who cuts the strings of life of simple humans, was now bending over Myfanwy’s mother and father, his scissors ready: they would never see their beloved daughter; their home or Tala Pandy again!
She was consoled by the fact that her parents would soon become Star-Children and would float upwards, for they had been good people. She also knew that her parents would be sad as they looked down at the scene of their accident and saw their lifeless, earthly bodies being taken away to the mortuary; all this they would watch from above as they ascended into the high and infinite reaches of the Antares Cluster. She knew all mortals are sad at death: afraid of the unknown… leaving the only world they knew.
She also knew they would be worried about their darling daughter being on her own in such a cruel world. How would she manage without their protection? But eventually she also knew her parents would forget the shock and pain of their deaths; they were not ready to die such an unexpected sudden death! Grunwalde consoled herself for she knew they soon will forget all their earthly worries: they had begun a long journey.
As the Queen of the Fairies sat and contemplated these sad thoughts, she was being watched from a rocky crag above by amber, almond eyes: the watcher was Tarrbanabus, Prince of darkness, Lord and Master of Golgin Hade – hell! This higher being is referred to by many names over the centuries; in certain countries he is called Nickademus, in others Beelzebub, Methostopolies, or Lucifer. His real name however is Tarrbanabus: a fallen prince of Heaven.
His olive-skinned, muscular body and rugged handsome face with greasy, straight swept back hair and gleaming white teeth gave him a Latino appearance; only one gold earring glinted in his left ear; for this devil was no light stepping tap dancer! His features were no different from the features of any mortal man: he did not even sport a pair of small horns. However he possessed one limb no mortal would be proud of: a sleek twitching black hairless tail: his punishment for displeasing the Lord of Lords – the Dom Maxamus, creator of all the universes! His moving tail gave some indication as to what was in his thoughts as he secretly looked down on the beautiful, sad Queen of the Fairies, Grunwalde Angharad.
Yes, this prince of darkness knew the reason for the Fairy Queen’s sadness: death was his trade. Apropos was his colleague in death; apart from snipping the strings of life, Apropos also held the scales, weighing the good and bad deeds in life while another far more powerful being… looked down observing proceedings and final judgment.
Tarrbanabus always stood to the rear and watched the weighing with interest; he always liked to personally greet new clients. Tarrbanabus welcomed death, he wished it sooner than later on every mortal, especially if the mortal was notorious; in those cases scales were not even required as the verdict was cast in fire and set in brimstone.
As The Prince of darkness looked down on the beautiful, weeping, young woman below, it was not sympathy he felt: but lovelorn, heartache!
Behind Tarrbanabus, two thin, scrawny, burnt, ebony beings were slowly and painfully squeezing their withered, stringy, ungainly bodies out of a crevasse in the rocky crag: cursing in their own native language as they scraped their burnt flesh on the jagged fissures. (Cursing was tolerated in hell, although Tarrbanabus never indulged). These two arrivals were Tormented Taarbs – the dwellers of Golgin Hade: hell! These two particular evil doers were once deadly enemies, now they shared their suffering together at the hands of their eternal inquisitor, their torturer: Tarrbanabus.
For the first sixty years these notorious souls had burnt in agonizing pain in the flames of Golgin Hade; until their faces and bodies were nearly unrecognizable. These relative new comers still felt the physical pain of burning: without the final anesthetic of death. Today was their first sight of the surface world in over six decades. A world in which they both caused dire pain and suffering!
The two Taarbs blinked in the pale light of evening. They looked around at the shadowy trees decked out in their fine tender, green prime liveries and at the golden sunset, then down on the weeping Grunwalde as she sat by the deep pool. But they did not see beauty, instead they saw red, tender female flesh; the end result of their extreme hunger. They had been forced to fast while they themselves were slowly being barbequed.
They were desperately hungry, far beyond the hunger that caused death: for they could not die. Now pain and hunger walked hand in hand. Their normal human appetites still existed, increased a thousand-fold after their long fast; hunger now hurt as much as the pain of burning.
These two Taarbs had no eye for beauty, only for sustenance. They were now experiencing the same pain that they had caused when they were in power on the surface of their world; before death ended their evil rule.
Their human bodies had shriveled – shrunk and d
istorted in the fierce heat of their underground world, both in height and substance, pain was their constant tormenting companion.
‘Master,’ says the taller Taarb ‘is it red meat you are watching…the sun is now asleep in the underworld…can we kill the Terasil female? She looks tender – we are starving – you have not let us eat since the middle of the twentieth century.’
‘The cool breeze on the surface eases the pain of our burnt flesh,’ says the shorter Taarb, let us stay on the surface Master and eat red human meat!’
‘Personally I prefer my meat well done,’ states Tarrbanabus, and from an animal with cloven-hooves. ‘However you are missing the point gentlemen – you are here on the surface to see what you are missing – your punishment has only just started. Hunger is also a punishment… and already you have sunk to cannibalism, how typically human. Feast your eyes – for you will not see the surface or eat for another ten thousand years. We are watching the most beautiful young woman in this world, the Fairy Queen Grunwalde Angharad. A woman I would gladly join in wedlock but it can never be…she can never live underground… or I, sadly, remain above ground…despite blatant encouragements, she refused my offer of marriage!’ complains the Lord of Golgin Hade sadly. ‘She has a heart of virgin stone, hewn from the hardest granite.’
‘Then of course, there is your tail master!’ adds the tallest Taarb, ‘Terasil females prefer their husbands without tails…as a rule…only perfect specimens should be accepted. She will marry a tailless one – who loves the light, not the darkness.’
‘Love can be cruel… even to my cold heart,’ says Tarrbanabus.
‘Then wait ‘till she dies Master, you have an abundance of unlimited time,’ suggests the second, shorter Taarb.
‘I have time enough…what is seven hundred years…compared to eternity… but she will go upwards…they always go upwards…not down to me! I have lost my heart to all the Fairy Queens since the fearsome giant hornet, Nemesis.
‘Then allow us to kill her – she is red meat after all.’
‘Moron – do you think it is easy to kill a Changeling – she also has the favor of the Alter Dom!’
‘The Alter Dom is dead, that is why we can now stand on the surface before darkness has fallen and cool our burns in the breeze.’
‘How can an immortal being die? Do you think the Alter Dom is the only power in the Antares Cluster? I was once an equal of the Alter Dom, until I offended the highest and most terrible being – the Dom Maxamus… who could crush all the universes in one hand and return them back to dust! My punishment is to remain underground in the searing heat and in the knowledge that the Queen of the Fairies can never return my love.’
The Taarb thinks for a moment, painfully scratching his scorched scalp where his hair once used to be.
‘There is also the small matter of your tail of course Master.’ reminds the tallest Taarb. I suppose if you cut it off – we could eat it – yes that is the answer – we get to eat your tail – you find true love.’
The prehensile black tail of Tarrbanabus coils around the charred neck of the Taarb, choking him.
‘If you mention my tail once more…You sniveling little house painter… Do you think I am proud of my tail?’
‘Then let us try to kill her, we both have killed enough of our fellow human beings without conscience or regret … when we were in power.’
‘And that is why you are with me now for eternity. I have only just begun to torture you – your pain has only just started – I will also kill you millions of agonizing times, without conscience or regret. You will also die of hunger a million times!’
Another scrawny Taarb painfully squeezes out of a crevasse: it has oriental features and bows deeply to his Lord, Tarrbanabus.
‘Mine Gott!’ exclaims the taller Taarb, ‘where have you been…you little person…you are always late…you were thirty years late getting here to start with! ‘
‘Ahh my most polite guest,’ says Tarrbanabus ‘Feast your eyes gentlemen.’
‘Polite yes,’ says the shorter Taarb, ‘except for a lapse in manners between nineteen thirty nine and forty five!’
‘But this is most unfair,’ complains the taller Taarb.
‘That is life gentleman, even in Golgin Hade,’ answers Tarrbanabus, ‘some are always luckier than others – besides, injustice is also one of your punishments.’
Grunwalde suddenly looks up at the overhanging crag: Tarrbanabus and the three Taarbs had vanished. Slowly and sadly she got to her feet and walked down a rocky path along the river bank and stopped by the Goose-girl’s weir; she looked down in the water where the last of her tears fell. She then washed her face in the clear giggling flow. Grunwalde began admiring her reflection; her period of mourning her parent’s demise was now over! Grunwalde smiles when her reflection in the river changes; another different lovely face appears; the Silky Changeling had returned from the cold green North sea!
The lovely, green-tinged Silky rose out of the water – smiling at her Queen - water cascading of her lovely naked body.
‘You have served me well,’ says Grunwalde Angharad placing her hand on the Silky’s head. ‘Attend the funeral of my parents… then return to the house. When darkness falls, leave silently. Leave all the doors and widows open to the night… to the rain and winds… there are no heirs to the property. Walk to the river. Swim out to sea and return home to far off Sulky Bay. Your tithe to me is all but paid.’
The lovely Silky Changeling smiles, and without answer turned into the exact replica of Myfanwy Jenkins and walks towards Tala Pandy; to the dark, empty house of the Jenkins family soon to be deserted. ‘Stuck up little cow,’ says the Fairy Queen.
Chapter Thirteen
The Time Warper
Time warping is one sorcerer’s secret art;
Given to the Star-worshiping Fairy Queen.
When only one true hour has slipped away;
In fact, three have actually passed between!
Blodwyn’s parents were soon to become the victims of time warping again; although they would not be aware of it. Time can not only be passed, but can also be tricked. Time warping only affects the individual or individuals not the masses. The Fairy Queen can stretch one true earth hour into two hours or a dozen as she wishes; the bewitched are blind to the bewitchment of passing of time.
Time is a measurement and like any measurement time can be adjusted, altered, stretched out, or shortened. Time is fickle and frivolous, like the lackadaisical atom. It enjoys tricking us; so time is easily corrupted by a sorcerer. We have all been victims of time’s trickery and hence the expressions: Time has just flown by, Hasn’t time dragged? ‘My whole life feels so short!’
Back in her room Blodwyn packed her rucksack, she intended to be totally prepared if the Galla Quall Time-ship came for the Sillian and for her. It was now the third night and so far, nothing had happened.
She knew from experience that rushing to get ready always resulted in forgetting an important item. Like all females she liked to be prepared: it could save her life. She also knew these gentle but capable aliens, the Galla Qualls, the most advanced in the Antares Cluster, would come at night; for they were considerate to other life forms.
Blodwyn somehow knew Admiral Sebus, the oldest Galla Quall, would keep his word and come for the Sillian; it would provide the ideal opportunity to also come for her; he could not have forgotten his promise. Every thing was ready and packed, tucked away under her bed. For two nights she waited by her window – watching, listening. She knew a massive Galla Quall, Typhon war hawk, Time-ship could never position itself above Tala Pandy without the people below thinking the world was coming to an end; even if the spaceship was cloaked or masked fifty miles above Earth. It would have to be a much smaller frigate that would land.
Finally, on the third evening when her mother was at chapel, Blodwyn heard her father Brian cursing the television downstairs. He had been watching an exciting international rugby match between Wales and En
gland on the sports channel when the vision and sound suddenly vanished ten minutes before the end of the match.
‘Blodwyn…Blodwyn come quick,’ she heard her father say, ‘the bloody television is up the creek – just in the last quarter of the match.’
Blodwyn rushed downstairs but try as she may the interference persisted, then the screen became lifeless: all the lights went out.
‘Gordon Bennet!’ exclaims her father, ‘that’s the end of that then…of all the bloody luck. Wales are leading by just one point… Damn and blast it!’
Blodwyn ran outside, she had a strange feeling; the whole town seemed to be shrouded in the cloak of darkness. This was this it! The Aliens had come for her. A dim, shadowy figure seemed to be gliding up the garden path towards her, her heart beat quickened: it was her Mother.
‘Brian Jones!’ Blodwyn’s mother called out, ‘I could hear your blaspheming a hundred yards away. This is not the only house that has been cut off…you are not the only one God has singled out to miss the rugby – the whole of the village was watching the match. ‘Atmospheric interference.’ says Sergeant Thomas, he could not even get through to the next village.’
‘Damn the next village – half of them are English anyway.’ Blodwyn heard her father mumble under his breath as he went up to bed.
In her room later that night Blodwyn waited, ready. Candle light flicker, danced eerily on the stone walls. This was the night! Suddenly the open window frame was filled by a massive eagle owl with large ear-tufts. It was the Queen of the Fairies, her friend Myfanwy who soon stood in front of her.
‘Come quickly,’ says the Fairy Queen…they are here and have gone to get the Silly-Anne on board.’
‘What about my parents?’ Blodwyn asks.
‘They are already in bed asleep and will have the second longest and most restful night’s sleep in their lives. I have already cast my spell – that includes both your fat lazy, Tom cat squeaks and that little runt Charcoal the Jack Russell. I am sending just one Sisling with you,’ continues Myfanwy, ‘Boochi - Boodi was damaged in a meteor storm and has now returned to chrysalis. Now hurry, the Galla Quall is eager to leave, the Time-ship is disrupting the whole of Britain. The air force may scramble fighters soon! Make for the big ravine above the enchanted glade – Admiral Sebus will meet you there.’