Through the Kisandra Prism (2 page)

Blodwyn Jones is back on Earth. Her first quest to find the Alter Dom ended in failure. She escaped the Orb-eyed, Oga Koya; the cold-blooded Malis Afar, a blind Tamasic and some pot-bellied, rodent Bitch-Rills who tied their hairless tails around their waists before attacking her: these aliens had sinister motives! She was helped by a small Sisling; common sense mixed with a generous measure of female theatricals.

The Galla Qualls, a race of land adapted aquatics are helping her on her next space adventure into the Antares Cluster. They search for two beings of legend, a rare Calara Shimmering; the mysterious race called the Worm-eaters, whose bone yard holds a deadly secret. She has to survive an attack… then a deadly proposition from a blood-sucking Stabasade. Outwit a Symator, a large predatory big cat… in the process of evolving into a humanoid and survives an attack by repulsive She-male, Yarbies. Back in prehistoric time she is hunted by Malisaraptors – the distant ancestors of the Malis Afar: who wish to return to the planet they first evolved on: Earth!

First she comes into personal contact with one of the most feared and despised aliens in the Antares Cluster: a web-spinning, Sillian! This intelligent, dangerous six-legged alien has the abdomen of a tarantula; lives behind a trap-door and possesses a necrotizing bite: for it can only ingest putrid flesh. This creature takes up residence overlooking the small lovely village of Tala Pandy. With the help of the Fairy Queen, Blodwyn must try to get rid of this capable predator… before she can resume her personal quest for the Alter Dom.

The song of the Tartarus Hobs

We were pagan horsemen, who could never lay idle.

Riding full gallop into battle was our pleasure and pride.

We were always slaves to the sword, stirrup and bridle:

But the Golden horde was lords of the world when they ride.

Dusk was falling. On the outskirts of Tala Pandy, Blodwyn Jones was lying on her bed; sleep eluded her. Darkness was softly and gently approaching on velvet slippers. She could see the clear purple-blue, star-speckled sky dazzling through her leaded panes. Getting up, she sat by the window and took several deep breaths of fresh, warm, pure mountain-scented air.

Her eyes drifted upwards towards the slopes of the wild-wooded Pandy Mountain. June was her favorite month, particularly just before the shades of darkness lazily left the underworld.

At the ides of dusk, the different trees displayed their varied shades of prime greens; moss, emerald and jade were all punctuated with the pale trunks of the ghostly silver birches.

This time of evening saw the stunted May trees and mountain flowers dispense the finest fragrances to court the attention of their fluttering, soft-winged, nightly visitors; the delicate and dainty, nectar-dippers. But these nocturnal flutterers were not alone; the Star-worshipers (Fairy clan) are also partial to sipping sweetness at dusk on the Pandy Mountain!

Blodwyn’s eyes shifted even further upwards, gazing at the fat, pale, anemic moon, that hung suspended like a stage prop. She now found it difficult to believe that she had recently actually walked on its sandy-crusted surface, sheltering and hiding from blood thirsty, foraging Bitch-Rills in its dusty craters. These large mangy, malignant, female rodents with their pot-bellies, drooping breasts, and protruding navels, scavenged every evening for red flesh, noses windward. While hunting they tied their long hairless rat tails in a knot around their waists. Terasil flesh was their favorite: no fur balls to cough up the following day.

Blodwyn remembered the terrible sight that she had come upon whilst on the lunar surface; crimson-framed, were fresh remains of the Bitch-Rills’ latest Terasil victim – the unfortunate young human, owner of expensive blood-stained and tattered designer clothes and trainers. To add to the horror, the victim’s mobile had rung; possibly from some friend or concerned relative back on Earth!

She was glad she had been rescued by the Galla Quall before she was taken underground by the Orb-eyed, Oga Koya on Goya Perilus: they had ulterior motives! Would the Galla Qualls keep their promise and come back for her? She hoped they would. Blodwyn still hoped to find the Alter Dom.

Now… one mile away, on the wooded banks of the Pandy River, at the base of the Pandy Mountain, Bryn Jones (the local wino) was getting ready for another drinking binge; another night of sleeping rough. It was that enchanting time of warm June, mid-summer evenings, when dusk and twilight, like old friends, dallied with the fickle shades of darkness prolonging the enchanted twilight.

A gently bubbling cast-iron pot hung suspended over a blazing wood fire. The smell of wild rabbit stew, potatoes and wild herbs drifted lazily through the woodland’s evening pales of dusk.

It was Thursday, pension day, for the next three days Bryn Jones would be buying his alcohol from the off license instead of binging on the home made rocket fuel secretly distilled by his friend the Shepherd ‘Peter the Goat’ high on the mountain.

Bryn Jones was well aware that by drinking and smoking from an early age he would die young; a fact he bitterly regretted when sober. Life was still precious to this rapacious, consumer of all alcoholic substances and beverages: without prejudice. Even so, few men appreciated more the dawn and sunsets of the mountains or the nature of the changing seasons and the different solitudes they offered. He looked forward to the following seasons and their various natural bounties.

Bryn had planned to awake early the following morning. He had been invited as usual to Blodwyn Jones’s seventeenth birthday party, to be followed by an Irish Ceilidh. Strong alcohol had not dulled his musical talents; he was still a fine fiddle player, Irish fashion. For the time being the Wino of Tala Pandy had no inkling of the horrifying moments that awaited him in the coming small hours! The Wino knew the new Queen of the Fairies was Myfanwy Jenkins. He wondered why she had been chosen. It puzzled him that Myfanwy could be at home and on the Mountain at the same time. He had taught the young Blodwyn Jones and her best friend, Myfanwy Jenkins how to catch eels and lampreys in the Pandy River when they were both ten years old.

The Wino also knew he was now being watched from the edge of the wood. This is the favorite time of the Lings and the earthly Fairies. Small sparkling colored forms flitted with amazing speed from branch to branch; from ground to leafy bough. Small voices and faint laughter filtered through the young tender leaves, just a pitch above the nearby river’s soft ripple as it flowed from the Goose Girls weir.

Small, round, black button eyes below twitching antenna and beautiful, blue and green almond eyes giggled as they studied the alcoholic tramp. The Wino did not make eye contact out of respect and fear, he knew their powers: they were Changelings and Star worshipers!

He would wait till they lost interest in him and flew to the many nectar-rich wild woodbines and the mellow smelling, pollen-laden plants of the night. He was also aware of the beautiful green-tinged, water-loving Silky Changelings were now swimming down the Pandy River out to the cold sea of Cardigan Bay; their splashes could easily be mistaken for leaping wild salmon and sewn. Bryn Jones had once spotted a lovely naked Silky sitting on a damp rock at the river’s fringe at dusk, combing her jet black hair with a fish bone in the moonlight and singing a sad Gaelic song; the melody and the feminine voice had enchanted and beguiled him. But at present, the Wino felt happy: still unaware of the horrifying experience that awaited him during the coming false dawn.

The song of the Bat-faced Sillian

Beware all life-forms in the Antares Cluster.

Be careful not to walk over my sticky, gossamer tread;

for I lie below my trap-door in darkness,

Waiting and spinning your web death shroud:

lounging in my silken bed.

Bryn Jones the wino made himself comfortable, rolled a thin cigarette and listened to the promising hiss of his can of strong lager. After a long thirsty quaff he turned and looked into the dark, dappled shade of the surrounding trees; he knew the first watchers had gone. He could now sense that he was again being watched from the green, silky dimness of the woods on that late June evening. But this time these eyes did not belong to small, colorful nectar-sipping Changelings but rather to three, black, bullet-eyes brutish beings. Hurriedly he tucked into his wild herb-flavored dish of rabbit stew and rich gravy, eaten with chunks of fresh bread; the Wino of Tala Pandy’s first meal of the day.

Suddenly the three powerfully built, obscenely naked, dangling Tartarus Hobs silently appeared out of the shadowy trees and joined him at the fire without word or invitation.

They had been silently watching him, making sure no other Terasils were about. The smell of the wild rabbit stew and alcohol had tempted them out of their deep rocky burrows. These three flea-ridden, guzzling-gulpers also looked forward to Bryn Jones’s pension day: they also worshiped at the alter of Dionysus.

The three Tartarus Hobs were known to Bryn Jones as
Bulrus Khan
, their leader,
Bellbinder
and
Bunderhund
- the least intelligent of the three. These three grotesque, mono-syllabic troglodytes smelt of damp, rotten dog. They only visited Bryn Jones for the strong drink and to eat his supper, if he dallied. They would drink anything – eat anything, for Tartarus Hobs are devoted skip-miners, dump investigators and road kill inspectors. Hobs are also capable predators when the opportunity arose. Their Mistress was the beautiful Grunwalde Angharad, Queen of the Fairies.

Tartarus Hobs were no ordinary grinning goblins in the flower bed. They were not beyond hiding in the undergrowth and passing lecherous comments on any attractive passing female. Hobs were well armed with long canines that could bite through any car tyre! They also possessed the dew claws of a feline. These three obscene males were at the bottom of the pecking order in the female dominated Ling and Fairy clan. Tartarus Hobs were the servants of the Fairies; they were only crude Shape Shifters, not True Changelings.

The only price these greedy, guzzlers paid for their pleasures at Bryn Jones’ rough log table was listening to his often repeated war stories of his time as an ex-marine; not that they understood or gave a tinker’s damn about them.

Bryn Jones the Wino was the only Terasil whom the powerful, bullet-eyed brutes would show themselves too, albeit with the young Fairy Queen’s consent. For Bryn was discreet in some of the strange and incredible happenings that he witnessed on the Pandy Mountain and about the magical beings he knew dwelt there. He also showed the Fairies and their kin respect.

‘Ahoy – shipmates!’ greets the wild looking, ex-marine, stuffing the last piece of gravy soaked bread into his mouth, as the three Tartarus Hobs appeared out of the balmy gloom to settle around the blaze on rough logs that sufficed as seats. After a quick bout of scratching; they immediately set about the contents of the cast iron pot with out a “by your leave”, eating everything, bones included.

They shouldered and jostled each other like a pack of hyenas, softly cackling, their short tufted tails standing rampant. Having licked the cast iron pot clean, the three Hobs settled around the hot blaze. The resident fleas on their thick hides, which at that point were happily going about their usual business with sanctimonious fervor, soon objected to the heat of the roaring fire. They began to jump from one Hob to another to seek cooler accommodation.

Noticing this, Bryn Jones quickly moves his log seat to the opposite side of the three brutes, to keep out of jumping distance; a generous three feet, he estimated from past experience.

‘Nothing personal ship-mates,’ he excuses. ‘I might be an alcoholic tramp but I am still accepted in the community. Spreading a flea infestation in Tala Pandy… would go down like the Titanic! I am happy to share my strong drink – but I would rather not share your fleas – with respect like…no offence meant see.’

‘Fleas full of blood are tasty,’ announces Bunderhund, carefully placing a troublesome individual into the corner of his hyena like mouth, between two squat molars. ‘I hate seagulls!’ says Bellbinder.

‘Sea gulls always beat us to the dump!’ Bunderhund adds.

Bryn Jones handed Bulrus Kahn a large earthenware jug of home made rocket fuel. Bulrus Kahn gulped greedily, the fiery liquid spilling down his hairy barrel chest.

Although Bryn would have preferred the company of his own kind, these three ghoulish, gulpers were welcome at his fire despite their grotesque appearance, nakedness, bad manners, overpowering doggy odor and their thriving flea population; for they were good listeners. Tartarus Hobs had the powerful body of a male chimp; a face that resembled a cross between a hyena and a rottweiler. Bryn discreetly never asked or talked about their beautiful mistress, Queen Grunwalde Angharad.

Little did the Wino of Tala Pandy know, as he sat there in his cups, that the most frightening event of his life was drawing nearer! Towards midnight, Bryn Jones was on the last of his war tales:

‘Under fire see…I was hiding in this hole…a**e in the air. The Sergeant, English he was… shouts: ‘Jones – you horrible, little Welsh shower – out of that hole you Celtic cretin! You are a marine – not a bloody rabbit!’

The Hobs cackled and grunted at the rude words. Swearing was forbidden by the Queen of the Fairies: this privilege was solely hers. If her Hobs were caught swearing, she would bite their fat fingers with her sharp, beautiful white teeth: she was very partial to biting when cross. Their screams would echo on dark nights, ricocheting off the granite mountain slopes like the wails of demented banshees.

Finally, Bryn Jones and the three Tartarus Hobs just sat around the warm blaze quaffing silently and looking up at the stars; each with their own thoughts. The Wino often wondered what the origins of these three brutish beings were. What were they thinking about as they silently tilted their over-large heads and cast their gazes upwards at the stars with small, black, bullet eyes? What secrets did they know about the universe? One thing was for certain, they never shared their knowledge with the Wino of Tala Pandy. Bryn Jones was curious. How did Myfanwy Jenkins whom he had known as a little girl become the new Queen of the Fairies? What power did she have over these powerful brutes?