Green fire
Bottled Embers, round II
Hi Sparks.
Happy Sci-Friday! Still working on art and background stuff. Will announce in unBottled when its ready. Thanks for your patience. My baby is one today.
Enjoy!
Missed the last one —
Fear coils in my gut as my heart remembers to beat again; fluttering wildly as if to make up for the few moments’ faltering. If these strangers are an advanced squad, I am doomed.
Taking stock of my situation I have to admit, I can barely stand. I cannot even hope to fight my way through. If I try to hide I will be caught, if not by these then by the trackers who have been on my tail for the past three days and my lead is closing now as I stand here frozen with indecision.
No! No, I can’t go back. What they will do to me... I... I can’t let them get me... But what can I do now? How am I going to get out of this?
On the edge of despair, I sink to my knees. What can I do? Gazing at the beautiful bowl of almost perfect snow, bathed in violet by the mingling of blue Lemus and red Korus, I find myself looking inward, searching for the strength I lack. There’s nothing left... I think, remembering another of James’ lessons.
* * *
“A Teleran body contains two types of energy,” James tells me as he walks around the gurney with his hands clasped behind his back. As I lay staring up at the ceiling, strapped down, with a gum guard in my mouth and wires attached to me in a few places, he has my full attention. I hear every word he says with perfect clarity.
“This is what sets Telerans apart from every other living being. The first kind, is the same type of energy that other races have, you can see it like an inferno when you look inward, let us call it Raw. It’s the energy you use for every life process, and it’s what gives you your unique energy signature.” He inclines his head as he comes to stand over me, two fingers tapping against his temple. He leans over and looks me in the eye, “The second kind is unique to Telerans, we will call it your Vital energy, ” he says softly head cocked to one side with a smug little smile on his face. He stares for another moment then breaks eye contact and I breathe a sigh of relief as he continues his pacing.
“All Telerans are born with it,” He continues, moving out of my sight again, and I crane my neck to see where he has gone, blinking the brightness of the overhead lights, from my eyes. “You can’t see or feel it, because it is the life force that surrounds each cell in your body like a cocoon. These tiny shells together form a barrier which allows you to naturally build up and store more Raw energy than any normal being can contain.” His footsteps stop. I can’t see him at all but I feel the energy start draining out of me right away as he turns on the machine.
“In extreme circumstances, you may reach a point when your Raw energy becomes depleted.” He says after a little while as the warmth drains steadily out of my body. I push it down, trying to control the flow but it is like trying to catch water with a sieve. Panic rises in me when I realize that I can’t control it. My muscles all tense so hard that if it weren’t for the rubber in my mouth, I would probably have cracked a few teeth. I feel cold.
“In such a case, by drawing on all your discipline, it is possible to access the reserves of Vital energy stored in your cells, it is how the great general Akheal summoned his last energy to disrupt Maxillia’s core and end the Twenty-Cycle War.” He says with aplomb and turns the machine all the way up. The energy streams out of my body even faster. The gurney is now slick with sweat and I can’t catch my breath.
Then, James is inside my head. I can feel the cool tendrils of his mind coiling around my impulses and my body relaxes without my permission.
“I can show you how, but you must only use it as a last resort. Know that if you overdo it you will end up drawing off your Vital energy barrier and lose the ability to store energy completely.”
* * *
Deep inside me, I see only a few small bright spots, the dregs of my power. I have never been so close to reaching my limit. Even James’ machine couldn’t drain me so low, and that was not a good day.
What can I do?
The strangers have slowed down I see, when my eyes refocus on my surroundings. There are three of them. The leading two are more than halfway across, and the silent watchers haven’t awoken yet, but they are clearly not Telerans. They wear strange colors and show no discipline. If they were the rebels, the watchers would be picking them apart for frolicking the way they are. They must have pass tags, which means permission.
Teag told me about visitors once, that they are a nuisance, unschooled in Teleran ways, and often cause more trouble than they know. “A Royal folly, bound to end in violence,” he’d said. The memory brings a smirk to my lips, and then everything becomes clear.
Korus slips under the horizon, caressing the hills with scarlet. Lemus is close behind. All my fear slips away, my heart steadies, my breathing slows. I know what I can do, what I have to do.
I can die.
I close my eyes and stabilize my flickering energy, and glorious warmth floods my body. It feels so good.
A familiar serenity settles over me, training, conditioning. It is more important to function than to feel. If I can provoke a confrontation... In my current state, one shot may be just enough to end it.
Concentrating, drawing on all the discipline James instilled in me, the clarity Chrys helped me refine, those few bright spots come together, bolstering one another, growing gently, swelling larger as I draw a little Vital energy in. Not too much, just enough.
Lemus is starting to go down. The hunters will catch up to me in a very short time. I can sense them clearly now, soon even these visitors must hear the dogs. They are more than halfway to me.
The visitors are all men. The two in front are younger, adolescents. Reaching out with my senses, I feel their Raw energy. Manorian. Surprisingly even that, is not enough to rekindle my fear. The third has an unusual energy signature. It is so weak I can barely make it out. And yet they show him deference, I think as they meet. I watch them, considering my target as they exchange something, speaking softly among themselves.
The one in red is the smallest. He looks in my direction. I am hidden in the shadow of the trees, and sitting very still. I don’t think he sees me. He looks away again and I slip a little further into the gloom, just to be safe, as the older one, with the weak energy signature, moves off back towards their craft.
The wind shifts and I shiver. It is gusting through the trees now, coming from behind me and carrying the sound of baying, and fanning up sparks of fresh terror. Out of time, Misty.
I get into position as Lemus slips down behind the hills.
The Manorians start moving closer. The green one is ahead but won’t be for long. He is larger than the red, and not as quick, but he seems a good deal stronger. He is the better choice for a target. My energy gathers and I feel another wave of delicious warmth. One perfect shot should do it...
A few hundred more paces to go. I focus, concentrating the energy in my right palm. It is almost hot enough to burn my skin.
One hundred and fifty paces. The red one retakes the lead.
A hundred and twenty paces. They have not seen me yet.
Ninety. The red one turns around, laughing, his black hair flying in the wind. My fireball is a little more than a span in diameter, hot and condensed, I puff it up just a little to make it look more impressive.
Seventy paces. One more deep breath. It won’t do much harm but the insult should be enough.
Fifty. Now-
I fire.
The blast sails smoothly past the Red, he sees it, recognizes it and his laughter dies in his throat.
It hits, green on Green, and the big one goes down.
I step out from the shadows and take the stance of the first Form, and it’s all I can do to keep my feet.
Tom goes down five paces from me, face-first in the snow. A dead drop. Like flipping a switch, I go cold. Seconds pass like dripping tree sap. Even the wind has stopped for a moment. The words “Luke, help!“ form in my mind, but just as I am about to call out Tom’s hand twitches. He groans, and my heart remembers to beat.
I glance towards the ship. Luke has already turned round, and I thank the Deity for his telepathic prowess.
My blood boils. The energy rises within me. I can feel my hair standing on end, as my feet clear the ground, and my vision takes on a golden haze. I turn round to face the fearsome warrior that dared attack my brother, expecting to make him beg for his life.
An energy blast like that cannot be fired long range, so I use my senses to scan the forest up ahead, extending my probe two hundred meters, five hundred, a kilometer... I find nothing.
The forest is empty. I don’t understand.
Luke is getting close now. The golden haze starts to subside as my confusion grows. Then I see it, fifty paces ahead, arms bathed in emerald flames: a skeletal figure, half-dressed in a tattered rag. It has no detectable energy signature.
There are a few patches of milk-white skin showing through the layers of dried blood and mud and it has hair, leaf, and twig adorned but pulled back into what must once have been a braid, as long as she is tall. As I look into her eyes Luke’s voice echoes in my mind: “Tom is winded but otherwise unhurt.”
I take my first breath since the green fire flashed past me and it clears away the cobwebs a bit more. She’s just a little girl.
I take a tentative step toward her. She raises her arms menacingly. Another step and the flames flow down them to gather in her hands and condense into two flaming orbs that flicker in the breeze. I know I should not underestimate her, she obviously has power, enough to take down my brother, though I still cannot sense a shred of it. Those fireballs look solid enough.
I hear Tom whisper something about dogs to Luke and as the next gust comes through the trees, I think I hear shouts as well. Her eyes flick backward, and she shivers visibly.
I stop and send out another pulse to search for energy signatures. It is one of the first things my father taught me and as easy as breathing. Hunters. The wind makes them seem closer than they are but they are closing fast. A large group, thirty, no, more.
One more step and she moves. Pivoting on her front foot whilst bending her knees, she lowers her center of gravity and in a single fluid movement she brings the two orbs together to form one, positioning her for a perfect backhanded strike!
The Manorian seems slow to react. My first hit was perfect, and it took the big one full in the chest, dropping him like a stone. The surprise must have been complete. Under different circumstances, I might have been pleased, but that shot had been everything, every scrap of spare energy, I had, even using a safe amount of Vital energy to bolster and stabilize it. Now I stand, breathless, waiting in the gloom of a blue sky, on the edge of despair, wondering if my best is enough, knowing that if it isn’t, I am going straight back to the place I have fought so hard to escape from.
They will save my life, put me back together, and then... Teag’s whip will sing... And they will use parts from another poor young Talented girl to do it all over again. More blood on my hands. In time I will heal, and this will be nothing more than a nightmare except when James comes to remind me. Everything will be like it was and I will continue to suffer, only now... Chrystal is dead. My only friend is gone.
The big one remembers he is alive... and I am drawn from my reverie.
It takes half a hundred heartbeats for the red one to light up. He is golden as Serus when it finally happens. The fire starts in his fist and spreads slowly up his arms. He leaves the ground as it envelops his torso and creeps down his legs. His hair sheds its blackness in golden shreds and his power crackles in the air like lightning. At last, he turns from his companion, and I am bathed in the heat of his rage. Fragile hope steadies my breath. He is a true Manorian on the cusp of manhood, probably the most powerful foe I will ever face. At least it will be quick. I think to myself as the wind blows up another gust of barks and shouts from the approaching trackers. A pity he will die for the service he does me. TTH will not forgive a Manorian for killing one of their precious Talented children.
He does not look at me at first, but my heart keeps the time.
Ten beats.
He is peering intently into the trees, searching with his own energy for something. He doesn’t seem to notice me at all.
Twenty beats.
Pulling together another few shreds of my Vital energy, I force it to the surface of my skin, holding it like a shell along my arms. It looks somewhat less impressive than I had hoped it would, but it is the best I can manage. I hope I will not have to hold it long.
Thirty beats.
Forty.
-one,
-two,
-three...
His eyes find mine as the older companion appears out of nowhere. The big one whispers something to him.
Steady now, do not show weakness. My concentration is all that keeps the flames from flickering out.
Attack, Manorian. I have nothing left to give you. Attack!
He takes a step, and I hope he will not notice how ragged my breathing is.
I draw the superficial flames downwards, forming a bubble in each palm, puffing them up until the shells are as thin as a hair and it is only the flickering green glow that makes it look like more than it is.
Another step.
Come on take the bait.
The wind gusts, carrying shouts along with the baying. I have to choose between staying upright while maintaining my stance and stopping my eyes from flicking back, and I wince, knowing he sees my weakness.
Another step.
That’s it. I have no choice but to make the move or lose any chance of him taking me seriously enough to fight back.
He steps. I pivot, bringing the empty bubbles together to make one big one, and beg inwardly.
Now, Manorian...
-please.
As she reaches the crescendo of her turn, the flickering ball of plasma is released. Her timing is perfect, and all I can do is brace for the impact, but the moment that the blast breaks contact with her skin it starts to disintegrate. It fizzles out a meter away from me, and then she falls.
I blink my eyes in slow motion. Closed, open. It feels like I have missed some seconds: suddenly, Luke is cradling her head in his arms and Tom is close beside them. And small army is approaching from the depths of the forest: fifty energy signatures, maybe more. They will be on us in minutes.
Luke looks up, his influence, still ambient. He reads the danger straight out of my mind and his voice fills my consciousness. “Back to the ship!”
Without hesitation, I grab his wrist, while he pushes the girl’s limp frame into Tom’s arms.
We fly.
The power in our wakes resettles the snow to hide our tracks and in less than a minute, there is no trace we were ever there.
We make it back to the ship and the ramp closes with a hiss, a few seconds before the soldiers arrive at the tree line. They will not have seen us. Though if they are worth their salt, they will have sensed me. I realize, breathing deeply as I focus on suppressing the energy I summoned, enough to stop glowing.
“Take her to Med Bay, Thomas. I’ll be there soon.” Luke barks and then rushes towards the bridge. My adrenaline is wearing off. What just happened?
* * *
After answering the hail from the bridge, Luke leaves to speak to the commander face to face, ordering me to stay put. Tom joins me presently having safely deposited his charge and removed his burned and blood-stained parka. His green boots leave wet prints on the carpeted floor as he paces. I sit in the captain’s seat, all but biting my nails and still trying to make sense of what happened. It went down so fast.
I am just about to ask Tom his opinion when Luke storms back in, barking orders.
“Preflight checks, start the take-off sequence!” He shouts pointing at me. “Logan, use the landing vectors, Tom, program in a ten-minute solar charge before hyperspace entry. We’re going home.” I gape at our adoptive father in disbelief, too consumed by a conflict of emotion to move.
“What, why? No! Luke!?” I exclaim, anger and disappointment throttling me so that I can’t even form a complete thought. Tom slips into the navbooth and starts typing without a word. I can’t believe this!
I glance between them, blinking as I try to form a coherent protest, but Luke stares me down with his ‘serious’ look.
“Just do it.” He says urgently, “I’m on my way to Med Bay. I’ll explain later,” and spins around on his heel in the same breath, leaving the bridge before I can argue. The direct order hangs in the air, even though Luke is gone, enticing me with the possibility of rebellion.
Reluctantly, I turn towards the control panel and access the landing data to find the vectors. It isn’t the first time we have been left to pilot. Tom has already run through the basic systems, and we haven’t sustained any damage, but our fuel cells have not had time to recharge. The computer says what we have will be enough to get us into orbit. Tom programs in the correct orientation for the solar panels as we exit the atmosphere. Before I know it, we are back in space.
That’s it for this week. Drop me a note if you’re inspired. I love to chat.
Happy Birthday to the wee tyke!
Without going back to look, I feel like you have maybe done some rework on the POV transitions that are a trademark in this narrative, eh?
And the lesson from James which gives some basic info on energy structures in these life forms, very helpful. Although who is James? Because he seems to occupy an influential role with this unusual child...eh?
How have you been?