la belle dame sans merci

It felt to him as the furthest tendril of the race of men. A gnarled watchtower rose from a tear in the canopy like a giant antler. Acid-sharp rain ghosted through Jakes cloak and stung. Above him a fluorescent globe pulsed, fixed amongst a nest of aerials. A microscopic poisoned moon. It transformed the landscape in front, filling it with the pale green spectres of jungle and mountain-shards. Jake’s eyes traced the crouched shoulder of a flora swamped mountain. The stars beyond beamed intense and sparse. Night-vision ruined, he dropped his site site down to the dank canopy. Vines, lashing trunk-to-trunk. He looked unseeing into the thick clot of encroachment. The preserve of predators and ancient demons. How will it all end, this sparring of energy? This wild dervish of souls. The alien canopy rolled in dark waves onto the rictus of the towers foundations.
Pulling his cloak around him he attempted to stamp feeling into his clay like feet. Suddenly, a sickening wail seared through the night. Paring his flesh and bone with a gravestone chill.

Being a member of the Stag, his individual barrack unit was located in The Zone. After booking in his mandatory light arms in one of the city wide armoury-caches he made his way through the narrow streets of down town, slicked with a veneer of the night’s tropical storm. At night the interactive retinal ‘verts blossomed in one’s vision like the petals of electric fireworks. Now the gamut of kowtowing, cajoling and welcoming digital characters had all but evaporated from the street level spectrum. A rippling and playful koi fish snaked briefly in front of him, darting towards a massage parlours gaudy façade. In the shabby dawn, filled with automated cleaning tanks and the night’s detritus they haunted him. Their spirit and function dissolving into the putrid day. The air towards the smooth glass fronted corner of a hair salon flexed with a whip of a woman’s luxurious mane. The brief cart wheel of shining hair rippled with the ethereal colours of a dying forest. He would not know. He had never experienced a season. Neither the coconut warmth of the spring’s breath or the copper and gold medley of fragile autumn. Where, aortic bright leaves tumble unbidden, rolling through the breeze, languid; like a teardrop across a cheek.

Deep within the city, orbs like goblin lanterns were pulled from the earths’ centre. The mines oozed a gloaming in its churning heart. Beyond the gas-ore dependent critical industries, the electric synapses of down town run like circuit boards, warrens of high-rises and amongst the tech flooded streets, people clot around exotic night-markets. All-encompassing is the military presence, battlements and watchtowers. These too are fuelled by the sickly glow of ore.

Beyond these globes cast like a warlock’s necklace around the city state is The Zone.

*

The heart of her world was the water. Warm, fertile and effervescent. Crouching, her fingers tips broke the amniotic fluid poised in prayer. Bent over and probing like a heron’s beak. Powering in, shoals of harlequin fish withdrew sharp like a burnt hand un-clasped around her. The water was shot through by incandescent veins of jade. Her elfin body darted with the ease of a ray, and her giant black eyes reflected the kaleidoscopic land of coral. Across the two obsidian moons crops of purple shoot’s , velvet and soft like newly sprung antlers were reflected. Bright red brain-forms, mazes with lines like etched sand. Constellations of growths, like the myriad petals of gigantic roses; pirate’s rubies ship-wrecked in sand. A madala of colour, and evolutions whirlpool of form. She closed her eyes and pulled. Motion freed her. Thought and sound dissipated. Her tactile senses ripened, the warm pull of current became the tides of her mood. She flowed, and tumbled, waved and flicked with the practice and grace of a mermaid’s tail. In her soundless language, she sighed and uttered a blessing to the worlds’ deep weavings. Her soul waxed. The tattoos that flourished on her skin beamed luminously in the dark she entered. Her giant cat’s eyes gleamed the mineral glow of the wolf.

A festive spirit imbibed the groups of elves. Eyes shone like silver coins of those that squat around cooking fires by the lagoon edge. Warm wines were drunk. Others lazed in Azul or vine-green sulphurous pools that blew a heavy smoke through the dancing melee of bodies. Drums beat into the cavern like the quickening heartbeats of conspirers. At’lana, feet placed carefully placed on the luscious moss that covered the shore threaded her way through the revelry to the totem. All around her the lithe elvish bodies were ornate with jewels that glowed like embers. One with the knotted arms and shoulders of a developing male thudded into her, raucous and drunk. She tensed from the impact and looked at the reeling male. His lean face flushed and wild, and her mind flooded with his annoyance and rage. Drum beats pulsed the moment that his molten silver eyes looked on her. Yet even as he threw himself to the velvet moss, hands cupped above his head, At’lana remembered a dark and mischievous boy paling under her touch. His sweat soaked body shuddering, face pinched in agony. She pulled at his hands gently, the revellers catching sight and pulling away. Perfect, she thought. The closer party goers to the pair stared or pointedly looked away, dancing un-naturally and out of time to the frantic beat. They all knew At’lana, she wondered how many cared to forget.

Kai. This is ridiculous, come ON, she pulled him up.

Sorry princess, apologies; unfathomable.

Please, leave it. She raised her light green limb, bewitched with sliver tattoos to touch his face. He recoiled, instinctively. Muscle memory. Realising the insult his eyes danced skittishly and his head bowed. She looked sharply through the crowd. Just go, Kai.

Stalking through the currents of the elvish festival, it was not only the fading enchantments and swirls embellished on her that stood her out. In the giant cavern amongst the fires and drums, bagpipe wails, lutes and feasting and dancing: she alone carried no glowing embers around her swan’s neck. No shards of brilliant mineral trapped her lithe wrists. She was for the millionth time she reminded herself a vagrant. Acquaintances and friends stopped to greet her as she closed upon the totem.

Arriving, she saw a proud father with a trio of beautiful daughters. She nodded at the tall upright elder, heart-stone like a wheel humming an electric blue. One of her fathers’.

At’lana, he said to her. She turned. He had made it! Ejaculating prospects and appreciative comments in a cheery tone for all to know he sat down with relish. Her father had placed himself on one of the low stones that formed the innermost circle on the rings around the totem. A large obsidian table, with deep scars running through it that looked like blood channels caused her to shiver as she brushed against it. At’lana instinctively looked at the glowing soul-stone of her mother, before kneeling and cupping her hands to him. How are we my dear?

Good as always my lord, as always.

Nice to see there’s some sap in the elder yet, a jet black eye winked, exposing the traces over her eyelid. And mother?

He stared, arms crossed to a point on his short staff. We are fine darling, we can talk afterwards. Do what you came her for.

Yes father.

At’lana turned towards the family, one daughter turned her pretty pixie features from the festivities. Her haughty look showed where she would rather be. An imperceptible ripple disturbed the dark beauty of the other as she gazed at At’lana. Their sibling sat swaddled with the affection of her mother. She tried to send emotions of care and calm to the family. Once she had the attention of all, she said to the quivering youngster with the lush green of spring still on her skin: Please, come. She gestured towards the table.

The mothers hand froze in the air as the slumped youth was led off. Before turning, At’lana caught the black coral eyes of the sister, her heart – as yet un-given - gleamed like a dragon’s egg. And she went to the table she thought of her father’s lie and the smoky soul-stone of her mother, dying and opaque on his aged forehead.

Massaging the girl’s bright green flesh, she let out incantations. Her tattoos gleaming through the sulphur smoke. The girl’s body writhed like a snake on the midnight rock. Behind her the waterfall of the totem sparkled in light like falling crystals. Sensory perceptions of the girl’s life and emotions crashed in waves within her.

Water, the green coral of the worlds’ heart, family, music. The flowing river of her passions. Her shyness. Elements of elfling that were not her. The minerals that formed and the rivulets that watered these seeds. Looking deep into those springs, At’lana felt the heart-coral of the world. Through the girl it was sustained. Through her At’lana herself was alive. She experienced the deep peace of interconnectedness. She looked towards the glowing stream within. The girl’s large eyes rolled back with the single tone of the dead. Her soul started to crystalize.

Suddenly a huge violent shudder ripped through the cavern. There was a terrifying growl of a giant mill. Weak and exhausted she tumbled to the moss. Family and father wildly looked around. Her father’s stone was jet black. Mother! No! She ran to her dazed father. The family craned and darted their heads like baby birds. The young girl’s father strode out to his daughter and was floored by a hideously sickening lurch.

Drums and bagpipes stopped. A few screams rang out in the cavernous silence. A monolithic segment of the cavern roof pitched with a roar into the lagoon. Light flooded the ancestral hall. The totem disappeared as the walls and their world crashed down.

Father come on. Necessity blinkered her thoughts. Father come!

Her father curled his legs, looking at the oil-black stone in his hand. Through the thunder of the worlds end he looked at her with tears and loving smile. At’lana we are so proud of you. Keep to the waters. It is the fountain of life. You will survive.

No dad.

Tears brimmed the black wells of her eyes.
Holding her tattooed face in his hands, he kissed her. She felt courage well in her. We will be thinking of you always. He turned and walked steadily to the lagoons edge, now blighted with silt. I join your mother.

She looked at the crowds swarming away from the overhanging stones. At’lana bounded up rocks in her hands, away from the water into the air.

*

The large penny-farthing wheels of the locomotive pulled in the Zones’ access port. Jake watched the spindly horizontal pulleys pump back and forth. The framework of steaming pipes with the barrel chest of the engine always reminded him of a fat many joined spider. Never failed yet, he thought. His belly felt taught and acidic with his duties exhaustion. He looked up to the semi-circular cheap corrugated tin of the roof. Along the platform bounded a figure in the leatherette cloak of the watch. Cheap and disposable, the un-sung motto of the Zone. Cynically, the Guard too. Plunder and consume he sighed. A smile screwed on his face when he recognised the guard. “Thank the gods, this has made my day.”

A satchel swung over his arm, Dais barked expletives at Jake through a wide cherub smile. His black skin made his eyes kindle. “Fuck off, don’t say anything!”

“Heyyyy. Be nice. Hey Dias?”. The two men embraced. Jake swang in to kiss his dark cheek. Dias beamed. “Wanna come to a party?”

Dias started twisting this way and that . A hand raised to his mouth gave him the look of a prospector in new country. “Sure mateeeee! When?” Jake felt cruel.

“Oh. Just in my bed in an hour or so?” Jake started to walk off.

“You can piss right off!”.
As an afterthought Jake wheeled. The last passengers were boarding the wooden capsular carriages. “Dias. “

“What?! “

“A shriek came within a klick. Okay?” Jake let the other thought - be careful- run in his head.

“Sure.”

He strode towards the carriages. Recently watchtowers had been infiltrated. Cameras had recorded nothing. The men within had been dispatched with primeval savagery. As the doors were pulled shut the wail he had heard echoed within him.

Out of the carriage doors he saw huge rivers of the west glimmering topaz. Aqueducts and pipes criss-crossed the valley and plain of The Zone which supplied the city with water. He watched a tram bisecting his course far below the railroad. A thick trail of smoke smudged across the valley floor. He looked down at the bubbling pools alongside the river. After stepping off the puffing billy at a ramshackle collection of metalled roofed houses, thrown together around a nightmarket around the tracks, he boarded the tram out to the string of buildings that jutted out over the river.

His room was a simple wooden floored double room. Flat screen against the wall and two leather chairs by a double bed. Dropping cloak and satchel off on the bed, he moved out to the utility room. The river was a rumble outside. Stepping to the utility door he flung it open. The soothing roar of the river pooled into his wooden decked apartment. Sighing, he sat on the side of a square stone flagged bath. He picked up a small spray and smiling started to douse the plants that formed a feral rank across his window sill. The foam of the water played in the background as he coated the grasses or the intricate fans of ferns. Knowing interaction with the potential toxic flaura and fauna of the planet was charged with imprisonment and deportation. Foolish swine he thought. “And what would they make of you?” A jagged lethal looking insect was shadow-boxing in a clear container. Behind was the fairies grotto of its funnel web. He dropped in some tinned meat, remembering with a sigh he had forgotten breakfast. With the steady thunder of the water in his ears he laid down in the warm patch of sun that lit his bed.

A tight clap of ordered small arms fire woke Jake up. He gulped in air. What the fuck!!! He had never ever heard rounds fired in the Zone. Immediately there followed the heavy rattle of an automatic weapon. He bounded through the door of the utility room into the pool, the only hard cover in his apartment. The surrounding area was filled with brief peals of shots, and the concentrated bark of steady state aimed fire. There was ominous silence.

Hearing the tactical orders of the guard being shouted in the surrounding area caused Jake to relax. Outside smog oppressed the area, clinging like a spurned lover to the utilitarian compounds and streets. Thickset men in smocks walked in pairs with sharpshooter weapons. He paused to smoke in the afternoon chill. A gaggle of warlike men rounded the corner. Jake exhaled a tiny stream of smoke, watching it unfurl and dissipate into the smog. He could not have known the image of a imprisoned beast weaving back into the wild. An almost imperceptible fear treated through him. The cold air felt like sea-spray. A man broke off the trio and walked towards him. Shit!! The utility door!!! Turning on his heel he strode into the unit and ghost ran to the open door jamb inside. Reaching in and grasping the handle he bucked against the door as though caught in a blast. In his hand he had the torn off door handle.

Sat in the flag stone pool was a slip of a woman. Jet black hair an oil slick pooled around her shoulders. Sharp, high ears and cheekbones. Memories of his childhood. Fairy tales and the aromatic drops of sleeping remedies his mother carefully dropped on his pillow. Silver tattoos twirled on her waif-like green limbs suggested tender fern saplings. Please. Her eyes solar-eclipses. Sat on the floor her wild beauty was translucent and alien as the faery wings of the butterfly.

A hard rap-rap sounded the open door. “Hello . Stag”. It was the educated and confident accent of an officer for sure. Jake swung the door shut and walked to the cold night air. Bracing up he ventured is name and number. “Oh well, guardsman. A bit of R&R?”

“Yes Sir. “ He decided to play dim. “Whats happening?”

“Just a minor infestation. All under control. Have you seen anything of note?” Jakes heart thumped in his throat over a gutted chest.

“No Sir, I’m sorry. I just woke up at the contact initiation.” He looked squarely at the boyish platoon commander. Brisk. Professional.

“Well, be alert”.

A bang resounded in the utility , the officers quick eyes flicked back to Jake. He had the practised stillness of a predator. Jakes eyes scoured the ground. “She’s the clumsiest tart I ever met.”

“Ah bit of tail?” The officer zipped up his smock higher against the cold night.

“It is downtime, after all Sir!” Smiling and not believing himself as he did it he started to pull the door shut. “Goodluck, Sir”

“Thankyou guardsman.” The officer turned into the fog.

Sliding to the floor against the closed door Jake folded his arms around his head.

Initially she had been, bird-like, flailing at the window glass when he returned. Now they were still. They silently talked and understood. The river crashed a lullaby into the room. One in the pool, one on the toilet seat opposite they stared. The water outside in the black a heard of stampeding ghosts. Jake looked at the elfin woman, rolling in the pool. A raven mane over her child-like breasts. Her eyes slick and full as a doe. Water, she asked. He turned the tap and with a guttering cacophony a rivulet poured out. Spring raised its parasol over the window ledge plants. Jake saw his first blossom.

His heart was as pure and trapped as the creatures he kept. This male, like her, bereft of a stone. She raised a hand to his face. He didn't flinch.

The Zones first infiltration was reported citywide.

She swam for days. Standing in the waterfalls edge, her tears mingled with the rainbow spray. In her slight green hand sat a small gem. She dived towards the white thunder below.