Helaine Ducot looks up from the paperwork cluttering her desk when someone knocks on her office door.
“Yes?” Her irritation at the interruption is clear in her voice. Her assistant, Duncan Wrout, opens the door enough to stick his head in. “Doctor Neil McAlsie is here for his two thirty appointment.” “McAlsie?” Helaine frowns, trying to place the name. “The archaeologist,” Duncan prompts, “The one researching the towers.” “Oh,” Helaine groans, “Him. Might as well send him in.” Duncan’s head vanishes. A moment later, the door opens wider to admit a sixty something man and two young women. The man, although slow moving and nearly bald, is respectably dressed in a new suit and dress shoes. The young women cause Helaine to suppress another groan. The first is petite with long white blonde hair braided after the east continent fashion. A single streak of black starts in the center of her forehead and disappears into the braid. She is wearing a sleeveless, fitted, black leather vest which reveals the tattoos on either shoulder, black jeans belted with what appears to be a martial arts black belt, and old slip on shoes. The second is taller with long, wavy blonde hair worn loose and long, crimson fingernails. Her outfit consists of a grey sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, shredded blue jeans, and biker boots. She also has a richly ornamented sword in a battle harness across her back. Both young women have an unusual, intricately designed earring dangling from their left ears. Helaine forces herself not to stare, but has trouble thinking of what to say. The man saves her the trouble. “Good afternoon, Ms Ducot. My name is Neil McAlsie. I appreciate your agreeing to see me so quickly.” “Good afternoon, Doctor McAlsie,” Helaine stands and extends her hand, “Are these your... assistants?” Neil shakes her hand firmly. “After a fashion. May I introduce Amy and Stacie.” Helaine manages a polite nod to each, but is slightly unnerved by the two sets of cold, hard, blue eyes fixed on her. She drops back into her chair, indicating for her guests to sit as well. The man does, but the young women remain standing. * * * The clock in the dashboard reads seven fifty-seven when Helaine parks outside the massive stone structure known as Gemstone Palace. She gets out of her car and approaches the main door to find four people waiting. Three, she identifies as Doctor McAlsie, Amy, and Stacie. The fourth is another young woman. This one is a little taller than the other two, although wearing an identical earring, and has shoulder length black hair. She is wearing a short, tight, blue t-shirt, black track pants, and worn running shoes. As Helaine gets closer, she discovers her to also have cold, hard, blue eyes. “Good morning,” Doctor McAlsie calls, “I’d like you to meet Lexa.” Helaine manages a polite nod before fumbling for the proper key. She notices Stacie is still wearing the sword and Amy is carrying a beat up backpack. Finally, she comes up with the key she needs and unlocks the door. After ushering them inside, she closes and locks the door carefully.
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There's a kingdom many days travel from here which is constantly warring with all three of its neighbours. The fighting stops for snow season, with promises and rumours of peace negotiations come blossom season, but the fighting always resumes instead. This constant state of war leads the nobility to keep their women and children confined to estates well away from the borders. It's these estates, with their carefully managed farmlands which keep the kingdom self-sufficient and without need of trade partners instead of enemies. But to be born a child of the nobility there is to be sentenced to life in a gilded cage. Perhaps the cage extends to the next nearest estates, but it's still a cage. There is no travel beyond these central estates. There is no word of life beyond them either. The whole world is the estates which keep the kingdom running well enough to perpetuate the war.
Curiosity is a curse in a child so born. The curious are silenced and punished until they fall into line with the demands of their elders. Well, in most cases. The few who persist in their curiosity eventually find some means of escape and the tales told of their fates, true or not, provide material for crushing the spirits of the next generation. I was a curious child, but in the care of a wise woman who recognized it early and took care to channel my energy into seemingly appropriate pastimes. To all others, I appeared to be a complacent, dutiful young girl. The means by which my curiosity was kept hidden were as secret as the trait itself. I didn't know then, who the allies of my nurse were. Who kept her supplied with the books which introduced me to a world beyond both the estates and the eternal fighting on the borders. I was taught, in secret, real world history and geography, natural sciences, self defence and wildland survival skills. I learned to recognize accents, weapons, and plants. To properly identify animals and their tracks. To count and name all the kingdoms of the known world. It seems it very suddenly occurred to my father that his daughter had grown into a woman. For one day I was treated as a child and the very next my marriage to the son of the nearest neighbour was announced. I knew the young man in question well enough to know marriage to him would be torture of the highest order. He was as ignorant as a pupil of his tutors could remain and viciously cruel to every living being around him. These traits were concealed, if poorly, from his elders, but all too obvious to those his own age. Our wedding was to be held early in the next blossom season, although arrangements began the day of the announcement, which was made in the midst of the elder season. Before the first elder moon phase had passed, my nurse procured for me the clothes of a common boy. My woman's shape was concealed by means of tight, body altering garments which could be concealed beneath the shirt and trousers. There was an old all-purpose knife such as a common boy would own and a pack which held a second set of clothes and some food and water. My hair was cut after the fashion of a common boy and I was instructed in the proper accent of the local common folk. In this disguise, I was smuggled from the estate in the back of a cooper's wagon. I was aware both my parents and my intended would seek me out. The cooper's cart carried me across three estates, but nowhere near far enough from my home. I had to walk cross country, across freshly harvested fields to reach the outer edge of those central estates. Even then, my parents had guards who were capable of seeking me out so long as I remained inside the kingdom's borders. My nurse suggested I seek employment at an inn for a time until I could find a traveller I could convince to smuggle me out of the country. Being less convinced of my own powers of persuasion, I changed my disguise for the garments of a poor county undertaker's daughter and enlisted in the army in a shield maid corps. But now Ben's gone and Amy isn't acting like herself and our native guide is getting scared. We're in the middle of nowhere, on the wrong side of the lines in a war zone. It doesn't matter how many thousand people know where we are. None of them can reach us right now. No official in this country is going to spare time for a few foolish tourists. I almost wish I had taken my parents' advice to go back to school.
Almost, but not quite. I know we have to be getting close to our destination. And we were warned the area is dangerous. This isn't the first highly dangerous place we've survived. Maybe it's the first time things have been quite this bad. I'm not ready to give up. Definitely not ready to curl up and die. We'll find Ben, whatever his condition now, and we'll find what we came for. I turn to the frightened looking native guide, "Keep her here. Sit on her if you have to, but both of you stay here." He swallows hard, but nods and moves closer to Amy. I walk back over to the ledge and study what I can see below. It's mostly green... lots of heavy vegetation, but I can hear running water. We have climbing gear with us, which I use to rappel down the nearly sheer stone below the ledge. The foliage below isn't as deep or thick as I had expected. Once I'm through the top layer of tree branches, I can see quite the picturesque little canyon. There is very little for undergrowth and a good sized river running from a small falls at one end and draining into the ground at the other. Ben is laying on his back not far from where I land. His eyes are wide open, unblinking, but his chest is moving. He's breathing and doesn't appear to be bleeding. I can't tell anything more until I make a closer examination. Before I can do more than look around, there's a cry from above me. It sounds more like the guide than Amy, but seconds later, a body comes crashing through the tree branches above me. All I can do is watch, stunned, as Amy lands on her back neatly beside Ben. Like him, her eyes are wide open and not blinking. Her chest is moving. Neither of them seems aware of anything. I unhook the climbing harness from the rope and go over to examine both more closely. They seem to be uninjured despite the long fall. Pulses are strong and breathing is even. They just don't seem to register my presence at all. Sitting back on my heels, I take a long look at my surroundings. The only things moving are a slight breeze, the water, and me. I doubt anything in the first aid kit in my pack would help my friends. I don't know enough about the area to even consider making use of local plants. There are no signs of local wildlife. I have no idea if there just aren't any down here or they've been scared into hiding by the noise. To be continued... maybe
Until Ben threw himself over the ledge, we hadn't so much as suspected anything was wrong. Ben was the last person we'd have thought would harm himself. Quiet, caring, warm, supportive. The voice of reason every time I landed us in another of these messes.
Worse, after Ben, we noticed Amy acting strangely too. Both my closest friends in one day? Seems weird to me. But with Ben gone, Amy began to space out, wander away, even not recognize me. Usually, she's Ben's opposite in almost every way. She cares in her own way, but she's outgoing and likes to dare me into things. I'll admit, we're in a mess of epic proportions this time. As usual, it began with a dare from Amy. The colony on Enfer is something of an example of human refusal to die even when faced with a seemingly impossible situation. The world was supposed to be terraformed before the colonists arrived, but terraforming failed, leaving the surface barren. The conditioning attempted on the colonists also failed and technology was quickly redeveloped, based on the resources sent with the colonists, to the point of attracting the attention of the inhabitants of a nearby world. Except only those with wealth or connections were able to move planets. Everyone else was left behind, supposedly to die.
But water sources were found underground and used to build cavern cities below the planet's surface. Each city is effectively its own state because travel between is difficult and dangerous. One other thing of note: The colonists sent to Enfer all came from French speaking regions on Earth.
“Mama!” Kianna slips from the housekeeper's grasp and flies across the foyer. Her mother catches the child up in her arms and buries her face in the long, baby fine, silvery and pale green hair. After a long moment, the woman takes a deep breath and looks up.
“What has been done?” She queries of the housekeeper. “The stable hands went after them,” The servant sighs, “They have not returned, your grace.” “How long has it been?” “Nearly a full bell, your grace.” Hooves can be heard outside, then a scuffling, and finally two men enter the house. Both bow deeply on seeing their mistress. “We're sorry, your grace,” One begins, “We followed them east on the old trade road until they vanished. They have most likely crossed into Tulia by now.” “Thank you.” The duchess tells them as the telephone rings. Still carrying Kianna, she goes into the library to answer it.
Never trust a mad scientist. Thinking about it now, if someone had told me that fifteen years ago, I probably would have agreed with them. But nobody told me and, of course, I didn’t stop to think about it.
The offer looked really good back then: A child, trained in all the fighting styles and other skills I would find helpful in my work and raised to be obedient, in exchange for an errand or two. I completed the errands early on even though I knew it would be a wait when the promised child had yet to be born. I was even given progress reports over the years as the child grew. Until I ‘took delivery’, as the aforementioned scientist put it, it never occurred to me he might have overlooked a few basic points of child rearing. I was expecting a person, a teenager I could work with, perhaps train further; someone who could eventually be my partner and later, my successor. I got a living, breathing automaton. I can’t fault her training. She’s at least as good as I am, if not better, at all the skills I specified and she fights like a demon. She also promises to become a very attractive woman in a few years. She has long, blonde hair with just a little curl to it; big, light blue eyes; flawless fair skin; and the lean, lightly muscled figure of a trained fighter. It’s too bad there’s no personality to go with all that. At least she’s intelligent and has some common sense, so maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for her yet. I was informed, when she was presented to me, she was designated F086. It’s a mouthful when I’m in a hurry, but she doesn’t answer to anything else. I’ve tried any number of nicknames and once I even sat down and attempted to explain a few concepts to her, and she still won’t answer to anything except that cursed designation. I get ignored when I call her ma fille, which I keep doing just because I can’t stand to not have any name or nickname for her at all. But for what I'm doing tonight, I don't want or even need her along. I leave her seated in a meditation pose. She'll remain that way unless, by some really unfortunate accident, someone finds their way into our home. I pity anyone so foolish. La Grotte is quiet, with very few people out in the streets. I don't mind. Quiet streets mean less likelihood of attack before I reach my destination. Whether I find trouble on reaching it... well, that's an entirely different question. La Grotte is the largest of the cavern cities remaining on this barren lump of rock we call l'Enfer. The surface has been unlivable since terraforming failed, but the underground rivers allow us to survive, if barely. La Grotte surrounds the widest, deepest of the rivers, l'Eau. L'Eau enters clean from the geological north, but exits far from clean to the southeast. Fortunately water regulations have remained strictly enforced despite the unstable nature of a governance by strongest. Le Laboratoire du Genome is on just about the farthest edge of la Grotte from my home, which means a long walk for me tonight. And since it is headed up by a mad scientist, the security measures run on the far side of paranoid. To the point where the employees have figured out how to subvert them instead of going through protocol every single time they enter or exit the building and grounds. This works nicely for me because they've sabotaged the integrity of the system and, for someone of my skill, getting in is très simple. He also runs things flat out at all times. There's no quiet in the halls or anywhere else. Fortunately there's a staff change room not far from the door I enter by. The single male employee inside goes to sleep without a sound and I'm soon walking the halls dressed as Pierre, docteur. Even better, his identification card is high enough clearance to get me into everything except the private laboratory and quarters of the head scientist. * * * The day F086 left le Laboratoire was the happiest day of my life to date. Of course anything which makes mon père, le salaud Docteur Sebastien, that upset is a good thing in my books. F086 is the one girl he least wants to let go, but she's also the one he promised to some city mercenary in exchange for a series of errands. I've lived in le Laboratoire du Genome as long as there's been a le Laboratoire. Which is to say not quite as long as I've been alive, although I don't remember our home before this. Before the death of ma mère and the beginning of this insane experiment of Sebastien's. But, having lived here as long as I can remember, I know everyone else who lives and works here. Same as I know every crack and cranny of both sides of the complex. So to pass by the records room and see someone dressed as Docteur Pierre, who is clearly not Docteur Pierre, tells me we have an intruder. Moreover, this intruder is so engrossed in whatever he is reading he doesn't seem to notice me creeping up on him
“What do you think?” The realtor parks at the curb in front of a neat white house with deep green trim. The front yard is equally neat, with bright flowerbeds and a low, white fence.
Keith and Beth glance at each other, then at their two children. Their daughter, Bethany, is gazing around wide eyed. Their son, Kevin, is absorbed in his handheld video game and doesn't appear to notice anything. “It's very nice,” Beth can't quite suppress her enthusiasm, “But what's the inside like?” “Just as nice,” The realtor assures her, “Come look.” All five get out of the vehicle and pass through the front gate. The realtor unlocks the door and ushers the family inside. The main floor consists of a living room, den, dining room, and kitchen. All the rooms are empty, clean, and brightly painted. One set of stairs leads up to a second floor with two good size bedrooms, a large bathroom, and a master suite including a bathroom and gigantic closet. A second set of stairs leads down to a finished basement divided into a rec room, workshop, laundry room, and storage. The back door off the kitchen leads onto a neat, sturdy sundeck. Beyond it, there are several nice shade trees and a garden plot. The lawn itself is short, thick, and free of weeds. The fence is higher than in the front, but not so high Keith can't see the next door neighbour working in his garden. The neighbour, a late middle aged man, seems to realize he is being watched, because he looks up. “Hello, sir.” “Hello.” Keith goes over to the fence. “Thinking of buying?” The neighbour eases himself to his feet. “Thinking of it.” Keith tries to sound non-committal. “You won't find a safer neighbourhood anywhere,” The neighbour smiles proudly, “Best place in the world to raise kids.” Keith nods. “Not many places come up vacant in these parts,” The neighbour continues, “No one wants to leave. This's as close to paradise as you'll get in this lifetime.” “Keith!” Beth's voice comes from inside the house. “Go on,” The neighbour smiles knowingly, “We'll be seeing more of each other.” Keith nods politely and goes inside to find Beth leaning against a kitchen counter. “Oh, honey, this's even better than I imagined,” She doesn't even try to contain her excitement, “I never thought a place like this could exist. It's perfect.” “And safe,” The realtor adds from the doorway, “I could quote you the statistics, but you wouldn't believe them.” “Nothing bad ever happens?” Skepticism dampens Beth's enthusiasm. “I wouldn't quite go that far,” The realtor shakes his head, “Still, even vandalism is rare here. Break ins almost unheard of.” “What about assault or homicide?” Keith demands. “I've never heard of either here. And you'll find the neighbours haven't either.” Beth glows visibly at the news. “Dad!” Bethany comes racing into the room, “There're kids outside! Playing outside!” Keith and Beth glance at each other. The realtor smiles knowingly.
Seren and Meredith prepare for bed without speaking, only partly due to the storm which makes it nearly impossible to hear anything else. Meredith can't help thinking of the first tale their grandmother had told them, especially about the ill will between human [colonists] and the aquatic natives. These thoughts keep her awake long after her sister has fallen asleep and, once again, she can hear the haunting music. As always, it helps her drift off to sleep.
Meredith wakes, completely disoriented, to chaos. As far as she can tell, she is no longer in her bed. In fact she seems to be tumbling through the water. She tries to cry out but can't seem to open her mouth at all. Managing to open her eyes, she can see herself surrounded by debris and her sister floating away. Then hands grab her and pull her even farther down, away from the remains of her home and family. Meredith struggles, trying to pull free of the hands, to get away to find her family and friends. The owners of the hands are stronger and she grows dizzy from being underwater and unable to breathe. This time Meredith wakes to find herself in a bed inside a bubble of air. As she looks around, she realizes the bubble is floating in the middle of the ocean. Above her, she can only just see light which suggests the morning sky. Below her is ever increasing darkness. There is nothing else around her and she huddles in the bed, shivering with fright and confusion. “You wake.” Meredith whips her head around, trying to see the source of the oddly muffled voice. “You fear. I not show self.” “Where are you?” Meredith frowns, some of her initial panic evaporating. “Near.” “What happened?” Meredith swallows hard, still looking around her for the source of the voice. “Bediel. They make storm. Bad storm. Break homes.” “The village is gone?” “All gone. People safe.” “People safe? But without the village...” “People safe. New homes. Safe homes.” “So where am I?” Meredith frowns in confusion. “You different. You hear song.” “That was you?” “Friends. Friends sing. You hear.” Meredith's frown deepens. “I don't understand.” “Language hard. Your people language hard.” “Okay,” Meredith thinks for a moment, “You said someone sent the storm, right?” “Yes. Bediel.” “Okay. And my village is completely gone? Nothing left at all?” “Yes.” “But all the people are safe?” “Yes. Saved many people.” “And they have new homes?” “Yes. Under storms. Bediel not hurt now.” “You mean underwater? But how will they breathe?” “Have air. Have homes. Have food. Good food. Not fish.” “I guess that's good,” Meredith takes a deep breath, “But you're saying I'm different somehow? Because I could hear your friend's music?” “Yes.” “But what does it mean? Why can't I just have a new home with my family?” “Need you. Stop bediel. Else family not safe long.” “But you said these bediel couldn't hurt them now.” “True. Yes. But bediel change. New hurts.” “So they'll keep finding new ways to attack until we stop them for good?” “Yes. You help. Make safe.” “But what are these things?” “Not explain. Not good. You not fear now. I show self.” “Okay.” Meredith swallows hard as the creature swims into view. It appears to be male, based on what Meredith can see of the humanoid torso. The arms and head are also humanoid although the hands only have three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with a silver talon. But the entire body is covered with silver scales. His hair is long and silver and his eyes are big and brilliant blue. He has no nose and only a slit for a mouth with gills along his jaw and down his neck. The tail is that of a fish and ends in a blue, crescent moon shaped fin. His other fins are also blue. One juts out from his back and there are three down each of his sides between his arms and tail. As his hair moves, Meredith can see fan-like ears. He also appears to be quite short. Far shorter than Meredith. “What are you? I mean what do you call yourself?” Meredith is fascinated by the way he moves in the water. “People Pamoel. Me Lapa.”
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AuthorAlexandra A. 'Lexa' Cheshire is the author of numerous novels and short stories published through Howling Wolf Books. Lexa is a wife, mother, cat owner, and music lover. Archives
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