UNDER THE SURFACE OF THE STARS A new day. A new dawn
Something woke me early. I knew this day was different.
Stars fell last eve, the dawn blinked of day and night. A woven canopy of twinkling stardust.
This day the Faeries brought the light. Garden Gnomes emerged with shovels in hand, Treasure sacks over their shoulders, ready to work.
Fingering my dragon ring; it wiggled. The air shifted. Red and bronze scales shimmered.
Dainty dragon’s tail curled swirling around my finger, Wing’s flap, eyes opening, yawning wide, As babies do, coughing smoke, inhaling, His first breath in animated life.
Fireflies lit the room dancing with pixies, They knew. Arriving with treats for the tiny dragon.
The earth trembled. My treehouse woke, stretching its limbs. A lumbering giant rocking to and fro — we moved. Over hills and dales, across rivers and oceans, Up and over mountain peaks, somewhere near eternity’s edge, We paused. Listening to the distance march of marionettes approach.
We land with falling stars. A new day, a new dawn.
The Earth thunders beneath our feet. Wind strums the tree; the Forest sings. Wave’s clash and crash, cymbals of attention, To the far-off serenade of a Whale’s song. Fireflies blinking sparks that litter the air. Hearts full of life — children still believe.
We will not be erased. Together we fight— The land of faery arise.
Un-nefer, Lord of the Underworld, also called Osiris, waited by the river, arms folded. And waited. He had felt uneasy ever since Pharaoh Amenemope died, appeared before the Tribunal of Forty-two, and submitted to the weighing of his heart. Seth, Un-nefer’s old nemesis, had been there. That put Un-nefer on alert. He had no reason to trust Seth, though Un-nefer tried to rise above old enmities. Enmities? Seth killed me, dismembered me, and…Un-nefer pulled himself away from the memory and back to the present. Seth had no reason to interfere. Amenemope’s judgment had been true. As regent Amenemope had cared for his ailing father, lost wife and sons to an accident, mourned them all until his own death, and treated his subjects with mercy and compassion. What did Seth want?
Un-nefer chafed at the delay. He looked around and froze as sudden laughter filled his ears.
“Waiting for something?” Seth asked.
“You know I am,” Un-nefer replied, filled with foreboding. “What have you done with him?”
“If you care, why leave him unattended on his journey?”
“What have you done with him?” Un-nefer’s voice boomed in the depths of the Underworld.
“He’s where I can watch him. He interests me.” Laughter echoed, faded as Seth retreated.
Un-nefer trembled, head bowed. How had things gone so wrong? Never, in all time…well, not since the first time. Seth was wily. Untiring. Un-nefer sighed. He had lost one of Amun’s subjects, no matter how. Shoulders squared, he breathed deeply. Amun must be told.
Un-nefer approached the great god with humble demeanor, stood, waited for Amun’s attention. Clouds swirled around them.
“I wondered how long you would wait, my son,” Amun said. “We located Amenemope. Only just. I would have sent for you soon.”
“Honored father,” Un-nefer said, relieved. “And?”
“He was transported beyond this time by Seth. How, I do not know. He has power. I’m sure I needn’t remind you.”
“Beyond this time? What do you mean?”
“He resides in the future.”
“How is that possible? And…if you don’t know how this happened, can we get him back?”
“With Ma-at’s help I can do many things, but get him back?” Amun sighed loudly. Wind swirled, whispered around Un-nefer.
“Was not that the purpose of finding him? We cannot leave him there to, well…live without his people and gods.”
“It is done. He has made a life for himself, with friends, and has a professional career. He’s adjusted quite well.”
“He has a what?” Un-nefer was appalled.
“A career. He’s an archaeologist. He searches for old things. Studies them,” Amun said with an airy wave of his hand. “He is remarkably suited for it, as he studies the remains of his old life. Of our land. Understandably, he’s a bit chary of studying his own times too closely.”
“I hoped to see him, talk to him. Would Ma-at permit?”
“She thinks you shouldn’t go there. It’s too dangerous. She’s considering other…options.”
“Options?”
Amun smiled. “What would you do?”
“I don’t know.” Un-nefer stood, head bowed, then looked up, eyes glinting.
“How far in the future is he?”
“Many lifetimes. It’s very different there. People have forgotten the old ways. Amenemope is adjusting well. I wonder, now, if he would be content living in the West.”
“What will happen if he…dies again?”
“He will die. He is not like us, and not like those who are in the West. Forces are moving in his time. His fate, the manner of his death, is not yet certain.”
“What has Seth done?”
“The things he set in motion, well, he cannot stop them,” Amun said. With another wave of his hand, added, “Go. Wait for Ma-at. Wait. Don’t try to find her, or Amenemope. Don’t worry. All will be well.”
In the deep dark of the Underworld, Un-nefer searched for Seth. Then Ma-at appeared just in front of him, with Seth beside her. Ma-at said, “Amenemope is gravely injured, three of his friends also.”
Un-nefer, afraid for Amenemope, stretched up as tall as he could and confronted Seth.
“Do you understand the price of your meddling, how many lives you’ve changed?”
Seth straightened and cursed. Un-nefer saw Seth could not quite match his height.
“I just planted him there. They got into trouble without my assistance.”
Un-nefer moved closer. “Untrue!”
Suddenly Ma-at was between them, facing Seth, who stepped back. Ma-at, wings spread, loomed, larger than Un-nefer.
“We come seeking justice for these mortals. You must rectify what you have wrought or answer to Amun. We will not intercede, Un-nefer, Thoth. Nor I. Choose. Quickly!”
“I need time!”
“Listen to him whine. Coward!”
Ma-at stood, silent, said then, “Remember, Un-nefer. Even Seth deserves justice unless he rejects the ways of the gods.” Ma-at’s voice strengthened. “You, Seth, choose well. We cannot wait.”
Un-nefer watched Seth shrink in size. He looked trapped, and Un-nefer knew that Seth would gain nothing by delay. He cannot debate me, Un-nefer realized, not in front of Ma-at.
“Very well.” Seth said. “Let’s see what we can do for these mortals.” He expelled a breath, said, “I thought you might be happy to finally have him in your care.”
“Cease! Be quiet!” The air trembled, and they both shrank in size. Or Ma-at grew larger. Un-nefer was not sure which. He felt a swirl of air move and saw a shadowy ibis head in his mind. Amun and Thoth listened.
Suddenly Un-nefer doubted his ability to save Amenemope.
“Come,” Ma-at purred. “Do not lose faith in what we can accomplish together. We must work together, with no open discord between us.”
“My lady, I will do whatever necessary, with my enemy, if he agrees to the same.”
“I have said so,” Seth began, but after one glance from Ma-at said, “I will do so.”
Ma-at nodded, satisfied. “Now we begin.” She drew feathered arms upward. Un-nefer and Seth followed her actions, cast their minds outward and began striving for life and healing for the four mortals at sea in beds of white.
ABOUT KATE FLINT
Kate Flint, a native of the Pacific Northwest, began writing novels after a challenge by a friend. She enjoyed that first attempt so much she continued writing and perfecting her craft while caring for family. She has a keen interest in history, especially ancient history, along with anthropology and archaeology, Kate loves to ask “what if” and see what happens, with just a little bit of added magic and mystery. Who know what one might find around the next corner or bend in the trail? Kate Flint presents her first published piece here, Un-nefer’s Triumph, part of a larger story where an age-old rivalry between ancient Egyptian gods repute anew when a dead Pharaoh is misplaced in time—on purpose.
NovaCore sat like a small city in the middle of the dense jungle just 20 klicks from where Akira DeNaga, leader of The Hand, landed his Stealth fighter just outside NovaCore’s detection zone. He activated the camouflage shields as he exited, watching the ship blend into the jungle canopy.
The tranquility of the jungle moon of Pandaria could be deceptive, and yet almost magical. Moonbugs danced in the darkest areas of the jungle, tiny flashes of light in the night.
Akira had one goal. Destroy the Gynnos Seeker Project.
There were dozens of building clusters covering over 25 leagues of ground. The science labs hovered on large daises among the clouds, above jutting buildings that punch the sky. The ground buildings extended 30 feet underground, connecting to the ancient catacomb mazes that ran even deeper throughout the inner planet.
The Hand spies within NovaCore had provided a detailed map of the planet and the building that house the Seeker Project, plus the Pandaria sentries patrol shifts and routes. Automation controlled the science centers and sky labs during sleep cycles. The security detail focused on ground patrol while sentry droids patrolled the sky.
***
At the main building, Akira placed a communication control device on the outside communications array. He entered the code that had disabled security alerts and allowed entry into the building. The inner lift took him to the roof, bypassing all other levels.
One sentry operated the security post on the roof. Akira pulled on his gas mask, counting to mark time. On the last count, the door opened. He sprayed the sentry, knocking him out before he could stand and react.
Stepping out and moving around the guard post, he flipped the lever that released the sky-hopper. Once he docked with the Sky-Lab above the building, he crossed the sky bridge through arched doors to the control panel, punching in the entry code, GJH289KV834.
The force field dropped. Moving down the hallway to the next door, he repeated the process through three more doors using different codes.
The lab was home to thousands of storage cubes and data panels, and other life forms detained within containment housing cubes.
Akira accessed the database inputting the project ID number, SEEKER-420DALF. Library cubes and panels shuffled and shifted, bringing to the forefront project SEEKER. Instead of biotech data, or bioweapons, or sophisticated bio intelligence, he found living animals.
He read the data file.
Gynnos Mountain Wolves. Genome experimentation. Gene Splice on the bonded pair. Genetically altered for hunting and finding the Gynnos race, specifically the ones that carried the marker of the royal lineage.
Male rejected alterations over six full lunar rotations. Male did not survive. Female survived because of the mutated gene and elevated antibodies that appeared with the onset of the gestation period. Three pups, all born healthy. Project successful.
The female wolf growled, pulling his attention away from the data file. A movement to his right was the only warning he got. An MEC9 robotic sentry appeared, extending an arm and firing at him.
Akira dove to the ground, pinned down between the housing cube and the database. The sentry had grazed his arm with that shot. He checked the wound. It hurt worse than the sun scorch, but he’d survive it.
The MEC9 fired again, hitting the cube control panel, releasing the door mechanism. One adult wolf and three pups jumped out. They watched the robotic sentry instead of him.
He took a deep breath and prepared to stand and fire. The female wolf jumped over the database, ripping the sentries’ firing arm off. Akira fired at its sensor panel, completely disabling the MEC9 unit.
Turning to the database, he entered the code that would wipe all the information about the Seeker Project from the system. Looking at the wolves, knowing the mission requirements, he gripped his blaster and then re-holstered it.
***
When he retold the story later to the rest of The Hand on their ship, the Hidden Glove, he ended the adventure tale by saying, “I arrived a destroyer and left a savior.”
One of the wolf pups scratched his boot. He picked it up. Mama and the other two wolf-pups were asleep on the palette in the corner of his quarters.
Escaping Pandaria Moon was tricky, but without the wolves, possibly impossible. They were way more intelligent than the average mountain wolf. There had been a genuine connection, a silent communication, between him and them.
Finishing his report log, he input mission complete. He left out the part where he released the wolves before destroying the project.
The real savior of the day? Smiling, he thought, wore a furry suit.
Storytime Quarterly Blog Hop Jan, April, July, and Oct.
Welcome to Storytime Quarterly Blog Hop! Below are the participant links, so you can cycle through and read all the flash fiction stories if you so choose. All stories are around 500 to 1000 word speculative fiction—flash fiction stories. The story I am sharing today is from my Space Opera world Starlight Galaxy series. It is an origin story about the wolf-pup that befriends Bella that you meet in the bigger story. Read with joy, as Holly Lisle likes to say.
Ninea dropped a coin into the phone and called. The bus had run late, so she missed the connection. She’d be there tomorrow. She put her bag on the bench and lay down.
“Sorry, Miss, the next bus is after sunrise. Gotta close up. You can’t stay here.”
He locked up and all but ran down the alley. She heard the whine of an engine and smelled exhaust. There was a bench out front. Sweat discolored her dress.
The light above went out. Everywhere she looked, the lights were out. Businesses were closed, and not a soul walked the streets.
Except in one direction – a radio was playing, and there were lights from houses.
“Gotta be something this way.” At least her bag had rollers.
The street was potholes and broken asphalt, and the sidewalk was cracked and spat itself up here and there. Windows were open and inside people were listening to the radio about how they were responsible, they were ruining things, and if it weren’t for them, everything would be better.
A dog’s head came up in a yard; instinctively, she turned away and kept walking, right into the darkness.
“Barking dog ain’t safe,” she told herself. “Gotta find somewhere safe. Then get back for the bus.”
It got quiet. A slight breeze ran through her legs, and the moon played hide-and-seek with banks of clouds.
Her stomach rumbled.
Dark, dark, dark – a porch light was on. The house was old, a shotgun shack with one light inside, perched in the middle of all these trees. On the porch, an old man in old overalls and a pair of old boots rocked back and forth, each rock a squeak or a sigh.
Fireflies floated all over the lawn.
Everywhere else was dark.
The rocking stopped.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” He said.
She pointed down the road. “My aunt’s just down that way.”
He didn’t look. “That’s a graveyard, so she’s not likely much help now.” He stood up and stretched. “Hungry?”
“No,” but her stomach growled again.
“Ain’t much, but it’s dinner and it’s food. Or you can stay out here. Likely not safe out here… but it’s your choice.”
The sound of the radio carried from far behind her, a speech, cheering, louder and louder. The hairs on her neck stood up as she glanced back into the darkness. The dog barked.
He was holding the door open when she turned back, stepping carefully over the toadstools on the walkway up to the house.
It was basic fare – potatoes in white gravy, fried chicken, collard greens, rolls and butter, and sweet tea. He laid a second plate and let her choose, and when she chose he nodded and filled her glass. He ate as much as she did, set the bones in a pile, and asked no questions she’d have to lie to answer.
Not even her name.
One cough and he wiped his face. She blinked. All the food was gone, they’d eaten it down to the dregs.
Her stomach felt full.
“Can I wash up?”
He pointed at the sink, got up, stretched again, and went into the other room. So, she washed and dried; he only had four spoons, four forks, four knives, and four plates.
The wind blew again, cold and harsh, rattling the window. Outside was darkness, even the moon had fled.
The middle room had a box fireplace lit and burning so it was warm but not hot. A cotton sheet, a blanket, and a pillow sat on the couch.
A grandfather clock, the wood lovingly polished and each figure a craftsman’s delight, shared the room with her.
“Plumbing is in there. Sink, washcloths, soap, so not that hard.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the only other door. Then he closed his door, a yellow light spilling underneath until she heard a click and it went out. Fold the sheet in half the long way, put the blanket over and the pillow at the top.
There was a creak from the other room. Then silence.
No music.
No radio.
The clock chimed.
She woke up with the sunrise in her eyes.
“Morning.” He came out of the kitchen. “Sausage in a biscuit, if you hurry you might make your bus.”
Thanking him, she accepted her breakfast in a napkin and took off down the road. Halfway there, she heard the radio again and saw the dog sleeping on the ground.
She hadn’t mentioned the bus. She hadn’t talked at all about traveling. She hadn’t talked about much at all.
The dog looked up and then lay back down. The radio was still talking about them and how awful them was and how them caused all the trouble. The sidewalk was still a cracked and broken mess.
The phone was still there. She sat on the bench. The man came and jingled his keys and opened the bus station.
The bus arrived, and she got on.
Ninea dropped a coin into the phone and called. The bus had run late, so she missed the connection. She’d be there tomorrow. She put her bag on the bench and lay down.
About Chris Makowski
Chris was born in the Pacific Northwest and lived briefly in Hawaii before being reared in New England. After traveling up and down and back and forth from coast to coast, he was dragged kicking and screaming in the bonds of matrimony to the State of Texas and has been mostly residing there ever since with his wife and son.
I wasn’t what anyone would call a nice person. I was grumpy, sarcastic, and I’d earned every scar on my body in ways that would make most people have a nervous breakdown.
But nice or not, there were some things you didn’t ignore – not if you saw them and had the power to act. And the hint of power I could feel from the woods demanded action.
“I do believe in fairies, I do, I do…”
I pinched my nose when I heard that half-whispered chant on the breeze.
Damn Peter Pan to hell. The whole play was pure fey propaganda.
I could feel a trickle of power coming from the woods, surprising in the sheer uncontrolled strength but also in the desperation behind it.
Whoever this kid was, they’d managed to crack open the edge of reality like an egg.
Not an easy thing to do.
The whispered chant slipped though the woods, thinning the barrier betwixt and between. I tried to hurry, but my cane was sinking into the soft earth, which was giving my hip hell.
“I do believe in fairies, I do, I do.”
I grimaced. Yeah, I believed in them too, which was why I had a ziplock bag full of salt and mixed with iron oxide in my pocket.
The thing about fairies is that sometimes you ended up calling a unicorn. And sometimes you encountered a redcap. Even the Seelie court was fairly dangerous if you didn’t know what you were doing, and a completely disproportionate number of fey creatures would just eat you if you were in their way. No muss, no fuss.
I arrived and saw a rumpled child in a jacket that was far too light for the weather. Skinny. Frail.
Faintly glowing with power.
She?
I think it was a she.
I glanced at the kid, with very little to indicate whether it was a boy or a girl…not that I knew much about kids, but even with the short hair and clearly mismatched secondhand clothing, there was something delicate.
Pretty.
I clinched my jaw.
They fey liked pretty things.
The sickly-sweet smell of farie power burned my nose as I ran toward the child, casting shields and recklessly spending as much power as I dared.
I dove between the child and something reaching for her, handful of salt and iron making a quick circle.
I pulled the child to me. “Be still.”
“She called us.” The hissing sibilants wound their way from the shadows. I saw the child’s eyes widen.
My lips twisted as I stared into the undulating darkness. “I doubt it was you that she had in mind.”
The darkness inside the shadows laughed. “She didn’t specify.”
I didn’t comment on that. The foolish child hadn’t – an oversight which had once led to any number of children disappearing and never being seen again.
My hands trembled. “Called or not, you can’t cross the circle.” If I could keep them busy until the power faded, they’d have to leave – they couldn’t survive in this magically dry area without power – a lot of power. I looked down at the child.
She didn’t look like much.
Whatever was sitting in the shadows wasn’t fooled by her scrubby appearance. The kid had some serious magical firepower – and all the hallmarks of being completely untrained.
I had a pretty good idea of what was waiting in the shadows, and it wasn’t interested in raising the little girl as a changeling.
It would probably just eat her.
Probably.
The child was completely terrified and clung to me like she hadn’t been the one calling the thrice-damned things in the first place.
I felt pressure behind me, the hair on the back of my neck raising. I tossed a pinch of salt and iron over my shoulder instead of looking – more than one type of fairy could use the faith of the action against you – the act of looking back lent it power it didn’t ordinarily have. Tossing salt over the shoulder was just good luck – and probably where the superstition came from.
I heard a hiss from behind as the iron fillings and salt hit it.
The child pulled on my sleeve. “What is that thing?”
I kept my eyes on the formless mass. “Hush. Stay still. I will explain later – if there is a later.”
Have I mentioned that I wasn’t good at dealing with small, unfinished humans?
Because I am not.
I felt the power began to dissipate and fed what little power I had left into the shields – it would cost me in a few moments, but I had a terrible feeling that – yep. I felt a jarring attack on the shield as the fey thing in the shadows clawed at the shields with brute force in a desperate attempt to finish what he’d started.
My eyesight dimmed as my hip gave out and I sunk to the forest floor, clutching the child to my side as the shield compressed around us. The rift in between healed- and the fey – realizing that his chance to return was ebbing, fled as the rift sputtered out of existence.
I looked at the child from my seat on the ground. “That was a very foolish thing to do.”
Then I promptly passed out.
I woke up hours later. A cheery fire was burning to one side and the child was poking at it with a stick.
“You should have gone home.”
“No home to go to. And besides, if I had left you, the gators would have eaten you.” She offered me a suspicious-looking bottle of water. I took a quick sip, then another.
“Someone is going to be worried about you.”
“Won’t.” I’m not much for mind-reading, but the word was packed with images that made me think the child was right.
I used a tree to haul myself up. “Put out the fire and let’s go home then.”
The kid looked up at me.
Sometime very soon, when my powers were topped off, the people from her memories would be receiving a visit from me. They would not enjoy it.
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