Through the Kisandra Prism

by Jack Challis

  ‘Time is short Admiral,’ reminds Commander Galus.

  ‘Prepare the frigates to dive,’ orders Sebus.

  She watched the frigates gain height and dive into the lake vertically, like hungry gannets to pick up their new passengers. It seemed the Medusa had left.

  ‘Gentlemen we must hurry!’ says Sebus our ship is picking up a powerful force approaching exactly at the speed of Time… it is closing fast.

  Blodwyn’s heart raced.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  The Creature in the Lake

  The creature within the lake depth’s hid its frightening form,

  far beneath the ripple’s liquid rim.

  Always present, floating in its watery lair, sensing, listening;

  hiding below the enchanted, deepest, dim..

  With the distant ancestors safely aboard, the Time-ship builds up speed to leave Quilla Prime before Time; the same Time they had overtaken on their journey into the past, caught up with them: they just made it! Blodwyn was soon to know exactly what this felt like in her next and last adventure, but she was lucky: on that occasion Time was not angry – because she had only cheated Time by only eighty four years.

  The Time-ship made its way back to the present time and to the planet of the Worm-eaters, Signusgraag in the Mira six region. To any alien onlooker, standing on any distant lonely planet, the Time-ship would flash past their entire horizon as a fleeting streak of light, before they could even focus: such was its great speed.

  Reaching the Mira-six region the silver Time-ship began to orbit Signusgraag; monitoring the lake below where the creature dwelled.

  ‘This lake has the deepest water I have ever known,’ comments Commander Galus, who is scanning the planet below, ‘it continues completely thought the entire planet… there is a very large life-form, deep within the lake… it has begun to rise rapidly at our approach!’

  Admiral Sebus does not respond to this information… but remains with his own thoughts; he had a good idea what the creature was.

  ‘Prepare to land,’ orders Admiral Sebus, ‘I believe the creature in the lake controls all the other life-forms that dwell below and above the ground… that is except the Worm-eaters who may even control the creature in the lake. I must meet this creature before we release our ancestors into the water. I must establish our goodwill and provide safe conduct assurance for our distant kin.’

  ‘But sir,’ says commander Galus,’ surely the creature will recognize us from our last visit?’

  ‘This powerful life-form cannot recognize anything … it is blind and will have to touch me for confirmation… its touch is deadly. I must meet this life-form on my own… regardless of the consequences.’

  An armed frigate leaves the Time-ship; on board, with the Admiral are Galus, Blodwyn and an Ida Jaade escort. The armed frigate lands in a clearing. Marcus the Ida Jaade Centurion escorts the Admiral to the lake. Blodwyn gazes around; there was a different feeling now… but still a sense that their every move was being watched! She hoped the mysterious inhabitants would recognize them?

  The air no longer smelt bland; fragrant scents now drifted, filtering through the gentle atmosphere. Paradise trees grew in abundance; their various fruits littered the ground with other kinds of forest debris, unlike their first visit, when not a single twig or leaf was to be seen on the ground; it was as if swept clean by mysterious groundsmen who appeared out of the earth, every time a single leaf fell. The Ida Jaade Centurion Marcus returned alone; his red crest fully erect in fear for the safety of the Admiral.

  By the lake shore stood the lone frail figure of the Galla Quall, Admiral Sebus; the wisest of his alien species. His large liquid eyes gazing across the gentle ripples of the lake’s rim, the delicate alien bravely glided into the water until waist deep, unafraid. He speaks in his gentle tones.

  ‘I am also an aquatic life-form,’ announces Sebus to the large empty space of water before him. We both belong to the oldest life-forms in the Antares Cluster… we are kin. I seek your counsel … for you are older and wiser than I. My species is on the brink of extinction!’

  The surface of the lake remains calm.

  ‘Show yourself,’ says the Galla Quall, ‘I can feel your presence… I know you are listening to my words.’

  The middle of the lake begins to bubble; from the depths a mighty figure of a humanoid rises in a cascade of water. The being’s facial features and every part of its body were indistinct and clearly made up of unstable water; it towers high above the delicate Galla Quall!

  ‘And now you see me Quall,’ answers the giant figure.

  ‘I only see a Shape-shifter!’ answers Sebus, ‘show me your real species.’

  The giant figure seems to bow its great head in shame.

  ‘You Quall… would not be pleased… I am an abomination … hated throughout the Antares Cluster… floating in space… attacked… unwanted… until I found this lake… and the Worm-eaters allowed me to stay. I am now at peace… I am the last of my kind!’

  ‘Then show your true self… your true form… my race accept all other life-forms… regardless of physical shape, species or nature.’

  ‘You will hate me!’ answers the giant being.

  ‘Show … your species,’ repeats the Quall.

  ‘You have been warned!’ answers the creature.

  The giant, vaguely shaped humanoid slowly collapses and sinks back into the depths leaving a depression in the surface, a void, until opposing waves crashed together to form a fleeting liquid spume that rises high. All is now quiet. The Galla Quall stands in the shallows without expression, waiting with its own alien thoughts.

  Movement in the lake again. Something, without features or recognizable form was rising, breaking the surface – this was no Shape-shifting humanoid form but a true abomination!

  This was no vertebrate or invertebrate but a feared nemesis of the deep in its own right. Sebus watched silently and waited for the entire beast to rise above the ripples: he recognized the creature. He uttered just three words:

  ‘A Hydra Medusa!’

  Indeed, towering before him was a Hydra-Medusa, its skirt-wings pulsating, keeping its luminous bulk out of the water. Dozens of pale blue and crimson, trailing venom-laden tentacles hung downwards grotesquely moving up and down in some weird, mesmerizing dance of death; each colorful tentacle festooned with deadly nematocysts!

  Two of these tentacles slowly and slyly begin to approach the Galla Quall underwater; feeling their way towards his frail body.

  ‘Let me touch you Quall!’ groans the Medusa, ‘judge your motives … confirm your species… for I am blind and rely on touch.’

  If the Galla Quall was afraid he did not show fear.

  ‘You have acted well Medusa,’ was all that the Quall answers.

  The deadly tentacles reaching Sebus began to encircle the delicate alien’s body; feeling their way… touching… testing… tasting. Just one of the discharged nematocysts that covered the mass of tentacles would have sent the Quall into convulsions of un-reversible death!

  ‘You are the same as I,’ says the Medusa, ‘of the genus Hydrozoa… a Quilleian. Now you know why I am ashamed to face you… It was I who decimated your ancestors on Quilla Prime. It troubles me to this day. They were so trusting – they welcomed me and played around my ungainly mass and tentacles – as hungry as I was, I never embraced them for many sunsets. But hunger in time overcomes emotions… principles. I caressed your ancestors with deadly touch… their death was swift… I ate my own kind… I became one of the lowers life-forms in the Antares Cluster… a cannibal!’

  ‘Then make amends,’ offers Sebus, ‘we have brought our distant ancestors back … the waters of this lake and the beings here are capable of accelerating growth… evolution! Repay your debt… a hundred fold.’

  ‘Bring them … bring them. I will guide… tend… protect them… with the help of all the other life-forms and the Worm-eaters… we will accelerate development… I am longing for the
company of my own kind again.’

  ‘Do you still kill?’ asks Sebus.

  ‘No… see for yourself… the fish here do not fear me… I gain sustenance from this enchanted water… from the trees and the Worm-eaters… in return I help protect them from the tree-killers and those who come to mine x-nine.’

  ‘What will you require in return?’ asks the Galla Quall.

  ‘Only discretion… the Jed-Bella or the Rendell-Ness must not know my last hiding place… they are powerful now… they would introduce Crabanoids – stork-eyes… crab-like alieniods who are protected by their thick shell from my venom… they feast on our species… they would eat me alive! Your gift of the Paradise tree’s bounty fulfills all our needs, here trees and plants never die, so there was no need for flowers or fruits… we missed them greatly… now look around …the Worm-eaters, the Perrin-Jills are happy… even the Shirr-Ells… look.’

  The Galla Quall hears excited voices and turns, several naked, slim, sprite-like humanoids rise up from the water and run on its surface into the forest to collect fruit and rush back giggling.

  ‘The trees no longer crave nutrients,’ continues the Medusa, ‘the various fruits of the Paradise Tree litter the ground… the Perrin-Jills are no longer hungry! The wonderful tree gives us all we need… in return for tender care.’

  ‘And the Worm-eaters?’ Sebus asks.

  ‘Content… and deep underground,’ answers the Medusa.

  ‘What is your power source?’ asks the Quall.

  ‘The power of the elements… trees…the sky… the earth… this water. If left alone each element can create its own life-form… working in symphony. I am the protector of the lake … they nourish me… they are my eyes.

  ‘Our ancestors have long memories!’ says the Quall.

  The huge mass of the Medusa slowly sinks in a bed of bubbles; the water settles. Then just in front of Sebus a familiar being arises: a giant Galla Quall flashing – vibrant blues.

  ‘I will arrange their arrival,’ says Sebus.’

  ‘Return in three circles of the two suns of Signusgraag (four earth days) I will need one of your species for genetic information… the Worm-eaters will do the rest.’

  ‘Will we ever see a Worm-eater?’ Sebus asks.

  ‘Even I have never seen a Worm-eater!’ Answers the Medusa, making a noise that could have been mistaken for a chuckle. The creature slowly sinks into the water and disappears. The group re-joins Admiral Sebus.

  ‘I will remain,’ volunteers Commander Galus when all the group join Sebus at the lake rim. He walks into the water, disappearing from sight. The group boards the frigates.

  ‘Prepare to enter the lake,’ orders Admiral Sebus. All Gala Quall space craft are built underwater and are at home in that environment.

  The two armed frigates circle like gannets then dive vertically into the water: the Hydra-Medusa was waiting. Blodwyn watches through the port hole as the distant ancestors of the Qualls are released into the lake.

  They quickly swim, unafraid, towards the Medusa Shape-shifter disguised as a giant Galla Quall, flashing blue and playfully chase it in a graceful spiral; a spiral that disappears from view into the depths of the bottomless abyss. Blodwyn hoped the Medusa would keep its word!

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Time Catches up! Tala Pandy 1925

  Unbelieving, she gazed down at the giggling stream;

  at her unusual, enchanted reflection.

  Was it a trick of the dancing light on the ripples flow?

  Or the smiling sun’s fickle deflection?

  ‘It is now time for your last and personal adventure young Terasil,’ says Admiral Sebus.

  ‘How long have I got?’ Blodwyn asks.

  ‘Until time catches you up!’ Sebus answers.

  ‘Will it hurt?’ she asks.

  ‘No,’ the alien answers, ‘it will be just a sensation…Time is never too angry to be passed for such a short period.’

  Blodwyn took the space-chariot; the Cambrian Mountains were easy to spot, she followed the mountain chain from Llanberis Pass over mount Snowden under cloak. After flying over Plas Mynach Castle, Cader Idriss came into view; she knew she was nearly home: 1925 AD.

  It was mid-November, a warm dry, golden autumn day. Not only were rich gold, russet and brown splashed in the trees, these colors also spilled to the ground carpeting it in varying autumnal shades. She landed behind the big rock that bordered the mountain path.

  This was the big rock that the Silky had lured the Bully Caddoc Morgan to; where the Fairy Queen and the three Tartarus Hobs had taught Caddoc a hard lesson; one of them had bit his leg. ‘A nasty dog-bite,’ confirmed Dr Tudor. They rode him up and down the mountain until his chunky leg could take no more…: “like a bloody donkey” he sobbed to Sergeant Thomas and Doctor Tudor at the police station. ‘And then this little flying thing stung me on the arse… and grinned at me – it hurt like bloody hell!’ The bully had moaned between the tears.

  ‘Does my Caddoc need counseling doctor?’ asked Mrs Morgan.

  ‘I will give him counseling with the back of my hand,’ says Sergeant Thomas, ‘if he swears again.’

  ‘Well I am sorry to tell you Caddoc,’ announces Dr Tudor…with a certain amount of satisfaction… ‘This rabies injection is also hurt like hell Caddoc!’ Sergeant Thomas smiled and took a big bite from a thick ham and tomato sandwich. Those events were still to happen all those years in the future.

  Blodwyn had dressed as best as she could for the occasion, so as not to stick out from the crowd. She wore a long summer dress with a sensible wooly vest underneath out of sight: “there was not point catching a death!” Blodwyn had thought. Keeping to the mountain path she noticed people in the woods gathering chestnuts; none paid her any unusual attention, being too busy collecting the sweet nuts for winter consumption.

  A dirty-faced swineherd sitting on a rock by the path grinned at her through brown teeth; his grubby red face topped by a do-it-yourself sheep- shear, basin-cut. His herd of pigs was rooting under the small mountain oaks for acorns and gave her hardly a glance.

  Blodwyn stopped at the enchanted glen, it was just as lovely and enchanting then as it was in the twentieth first century later on; she could hear the rippling rill. The Fairy Queen at that time was a lovely young Scot living in another beautiful Glen, in the distant purple-tinged mountains of Scotland. And of course there was no small clearing where Bryn Jones the Wino would later doss down… being over forty years old Bryn was not even born then… strong lager was not even invented then.

  Blodwyn crossed the ford – it looked exactly the same as it was in the early 2000 when she and Myfanwy Jenkins would play there as children. She followed the river path towards the town. Everything looked smaller, the buildings – even the people she passed seemed to have shrunk; she was now a stranger even though she would live here all her life, all those years in the future.

  The cobbles of the main street were filthy and full of horse-drawn carriages of one description or another; everyone looked a little dowdy and in good need of soap and water. People now stopped and regarded her suspiciously. “Who was this stranger in her freshly laundered frock… how did she get it so clean… was she a witch?!” They whispered possibilities to each other. Perhaps the vibrant modern colors of her dress attracted attention or perhaps her physical size and general cleanliness just stood out?

  Blodwyn soon left the main road of the tiny little Welsh town of Tala Pandy. Some dirty-looking urchins followed her in an insolent manner; interrupting their game of football with a blown up cows bladder, they swore at her in Welsh; perhaps thinking she was English. She gave them a lively mouthful in their native tongue! They quickly scurried back to kicking their obscene looking football.

  Back on the riverbank she passed the house that the Jenkins’ would live in one day in the future; it was the biggest, most impressive in the whole village. She could not wait to see their small holding – what it was like all those years ago. Rounding a
bend it stood in front of her: Blodwyn was disappointed.

  A small, drab cottage surrounded by a traditional cottage garden, which in summer’s prime would have looked lovely. Withered stalks of lupines and foxgloves stood rotting, gaunt and gloomy. Once colourful sweet-scented trailing petunias now hung in brown stringy clusters like untidy rook nests.

  All the once bright border plants were now victims of the last frost. In a neat carefully tended vegetable patch stood straight lines of thick winter leeks, sprouts and cabbage and high mounds of potatoes, their dead plants hanging limply like long, dead, rotting witches fingers erupting from burial mounds! There were no stone out-buildings, just a pigsty to the rear. A dilapidated barn stood at one side, its timbers worn and beaten.

  A movement in the vegetable patch caught her eye; a tall flame haired girl stood upright from her labors: it was her young Grandmother! The striking young woman was probably the same age as her. This was definitely the dancing young girl who had approached her in True Arcadia and had held her hand with detached affection, as if she was not quite sure as to their family connection. The young girl who had gone back to her feminine prime from the withered ninety five year-old after her recent death.

  Blodwyn walked silently then stops, suddenly afraid of eye contact like a wild animal that stays still, not wishing discovery! But the young woman, like all country folk, was always aware of her surrounding and who or what entered her line of vision… she faced her future granddaughter. Their eyes met!

  The young woman studied her confidently from head to toe; but made no comment. If Blodwyn was expecting recognition, or some emotional reunion she was mistaken; after all, how could the young woman know of their close kinship? There were so many questions Blodwyn wanted to ask; so many things she wanted to tell the young girl looking at her… like that she was named after her. Was her dad’s Irish grandfather inside the cottage or were they still courting?