The Captives

Unknown at the time, two other survivors of the destruction of the planet Earth, had been Duke Magnus and the Lady Susanna. Wise to the machinations of the Rabbit and the Girl with the Red Hair, they had hitched a ride with The Rabbit. A chance remark had betrayed their sympathies to the Friend’s cause. Now, naked and freezing, they hung upside down in one of the cells deep within a forgotten asteroid.

It was only chance that had alerted the Friends to the fate of Magnus and Susanna. In an infinite universe, entanglement creates powerful connections.

Haydrift Eaglebeard passed his palm over the electronic lock of the door. Silently it opened. It was one of many amazing abilities of his new hand he was discovering.

He took a clockwork mouse out of his pocket, and whispering his instructions, sent it off to explore the cell complex.

Lord Stiletto ran his fingers along the cold steel of the blade, from which he took his name, and slipped it back into the sheath on his wrist. As a diversionary tactic, Stiletto was going in through the front door.

Sarah, Lady Bane, was unrecognisable. Gone were the silk skirts and bustles. Gone was her whole appearance. Stiletto’s technicians had completely changed the structure and appearance of her face and now she resembled a cross between a demon and a reptile. The fluorescent yellow slime oozing from the corners of her eyes was a touch Stiletto was particularly pleased with.

Spleenspew, the guard, was mean. He had been serving The Rabbit all his life, for his was an hereditary post. A complete bastard by all accounts, he had served in the Grakkam campaign, clearing out the uranium mines infested with the indigenous rebels, and had “cleared” many more with his hands and spiked knuckles than with his blaster. Spleenspew liked to get up close and personal.

Which was Sarah’s situation at this moment. The local dialect was pretty much like Slavic mutant spat through gravel, and Sarah delivered her lines perfectly, demon eyes boring into Spleenspew’s. She thought she had him, but brutal and mean as he was, he was also efficient. Feeling his welling thought communication, with lightning speed she drove the point of her blade through the mutant’s throat, before the alarm could be given.

Unaware of the drama taking place hundreds of levels below, Lord Stiletto wandered through the main entrance of The Rabbit’s lair.

A frock coat and top hat is not every day wear on an asteroid, and the girl on reception, used to seeing battle-weary troops, and the scum of the universe, sensed trouble, a concern which was confirmed by the sensors that showed Stiletto was carrying more personal armaments than a Zidian space trooper.

Years of training had given Haydrift Eaglebeard lightning reflexes. Unarmed as he was, except for his bone blade which was able to escape detection by the sensors, he felt the incoming threat and as he spun, palmed the attacking energy with his new right hand. The wall to his side exploded with molten metal, and all elements of surprise were lost.

Sarah, Lady Bane, held the mutant eye up to the scanner and the door silently dematerialized to reveal the holding cell. Shivering with the intense cold, she glided across the freezing cell and released the captives from their bonds. Magnus and Susanna fell with sickening thuds to the frozen floor and Sarah realised she needed help.

Lord Stiletto had only gone about ten steps before alarms sounded and blast doors slammed down all around him. With no break in his stride or composure, he pulled a metallic capsule from his pocket and lobbed it into the  busy atrium, full of soldiers, guards and mercenaries. The nerve toxin, to which he had been made immune, rendered a fatal paralysis on all within touch of its rapidly expanding vapour.

Eaglebeard knelt beside Sarah, and passed his right hand briefly across the foreheads of the two captives, who immediately began to show an improvement in their colour.

Extending his hand like a blade, he opened a fold in the very fabric of the universe, and within the blink of an eye, they were gone.

Copyright Jhedron Luckspar © 2014 2018
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To buy Revenge Of The Hrym visit my Book Page
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Friends

The advantage of having friends in the future became clear to Haydrift Eaglebeard as he flexed the fingers of his right hand.

He was sat in the library of Lord Stiletto, book collector and cosmic adventurer, and enjoying a very fine bottle of port. The rumour was that Stiletto had been given several cases of port by a grateful Napoleon Bonaparte after his help at the battle of Smolensk.

Sat across the exquisitely crafted table were his two good friends, Lord Stiletto and Gregory Cobblestone, now recovered after the installation of an artificial kidney, to replace the one destroyed in Cambridge.

Stiletto was laughing as he good-naturedly recalled the surprised look on Eaglebeard’s face as his hand came off and dropped to the polished wooden floor. The cut had been so fine and rapid that initially there had been no pain. That had come later.

“It’s the same hand,” Stiletto continued through mouthfuls of olives, “but we have modified it slightly. I think you will find it’s a good trade.”

Eaglebeard went back to flexing his restored fingers, which felt, and seemed to his amazed eyes, to be completely unchanged.

The rustle of silken skirts alerted the friends to the entrance of Lady Bane. Gregory nodded his thanks over the rim of his cut glass. It was her quick action and skill that had kept him alive whilst in twenty-first century Cambridge. The medical science of the future may be incredible, but they hadn’t yet mastered the fabled art of reversing Death itself.

“Ah,” thought the Boy from another dimension.

“What was that?” said Stiletto, always sensitive to the ambiguous.

“Just an old friend,” smiled Gregory, and passing a glass of port to Sarah, lifted his glass for the toast, “Friends.”

 
Copyright Jhedron Luckspar © 2014 2018
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To buy Revenge Of The Hrym visit my Book Page
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Angels Are Real by Stig Rudeholm

Their Father was dying, they knew that now. Several millennia of hatred and violence in His name, stirred up by false prophets, had been slowly killing Him. As the number of True Believers shrank, so did the Lord’s strength. With a heavy heart, Gabriel approached the bed. “Father…”

The old man shook his head feebly. Tears were running down his face as he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I tried, Gabriel… I tried…”

“You did, Father. I know you did.” Gabriel leaned down and reverently kissed his Father’s forehead. “Is it time, then?” he asked softly. “Has the time finally come to do what we discussed so long ago?”

—–

A crowd was gathering along the edge of the crater. The heat generated by the impact was immense. But if there was one thing you could always count on with humans, it was that in the fight between curiosity and survival instinct, curiosity always won.

Something stirred among the smoke at the bottom of the pit. It was increasingly obvious that what had until now been believed to be a meteor, was in actual fact something else entirely.

As the smoke cleared, the silhouette of a crouching man appeared. But it was not human. It couldn’t be. It was way too big…

Taller than the tallest man, yet impossibly agile, it moved with superhuman grace as it stood up, taking in the wide-eyed stares of the people around it. The being was at the same time amazingly beautiful and absolutely terrifying to behold. It was surrounded by a glow that you felt rather than saw, raw power radiating from its entire frame. From its back, two large feathered wings unfolded slowly, like the petals of a blooming flower greeting the sun. The people gaped in wonder as the wings stretched, flexed, and then relaxed. Like the wings of an angel.

“Dad, look! It’s an angel!” a small girl said, tugging on her father’s sleeve, pointing.

“Look honey… It’s an… It’s an angel…” the man stammered, dumbfounded. His right arm was going limp. He fought to keep it straight, to keep hold of the phone. Like dozens of others, he had started filming as soon as the “meteor” had hit. But now the phone was getting heavier and heavier in his hand.

He wasn’t aware of what was happening around him, as his gaze was locked on the strange and wonderful creature below, but the rest of the crowd were also feeling it. Eyes and mouths wide open, the people were mesmerized by the unseen force emanating from the being in the centre of the crater.

Some had managed to press “send” before the invisible force had hit them. Within seconds, the net was buzzing.

#angelsarereal #secondcoming #praisethelord

—–

Gabriel stood, flexing his wings. As he looked at the sheep assembled around the rim of the crater, his heart burned with contempt.

The angel strode purposefully towards the crowd, drawing an enormous sword from its sheath. The blade shone with the light of a thousand suns. Spellbound by the spectacle unfolding before them and unable to look away, the people closest to the edge were blinded instantly, their eyes vaporized in their sockets. Where it had been eerily silent just a moment earlier, the air erupted with the panicked screams of men, women, and children. When the killing began, it was a slaughter.

Gabriel screamed. Tears born of equal measures sadness and rage flowed from his eyes. He swung his mighty sword left and right, cutting down swathes of people with every stroke. God’s final words, whispered through His dying breath, echoed in his mind… “Wipe them out… All of them…”

 

Copyright Stig Rudeholm © 2014

 

This version of the story has, with the Author’s permission, been very slightly edited from the Original.

Twitter @grakkam

A Priceless Future by Kela Lewis-Morin

Pretty soon we’ll need to make payments

Just to be able to walk the pavement.

This added to the taxes on our bank statements.

Proves that any sort of personal attainment,

Will be shared with the government agents.

It’s blatant, we‘re a part of a money laundering arrangement.

Of which there is an infinite number of replacements.

Who are praying and waiting for your disengagement.

Longing for the day that you will become complacent.

Because a filled position in this day in age will always be vacant.

I call this, the reincarnation of enslavement.

Kela Lewis-Morin                                                                   Copyright © 2014

 

@KelaLewisMorin            kelalewis-morin.deviantart.com