The Ancients and the Angels: Celestials



  THE ANCIENTS AND THE ANGELS

  -BOOK ONE-

  “CELESTIALS”

  -A Novel-

  M.C. O’Neill

  © 2011, 2012 (revised edition) M.C. O’Neill All rights reserved.

  NOVEMBERMILL BOOKS • DES PLAINES, IL • UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Follow me on my blog!

  https://royalmanaball.wordpress.com/

  “It is, then, by those shadows of the hoary past and their fantastic silhouettes on the external screen of every religion and philosophy that we can, by checking them as we go along, and comparing them, trace out finally the body that produced them. “

  -H.P. Blavatsky

  Preface

  Dearest Reader,

  For generations immemorial, scholars and theologians have been undertaking a valiant effort to set forth a final decision as to what our beforefathers did on an earth prior to the ongoing trials and struggles of homo sapiens sapiens (that’s you!). I shall not attempt to answer that with any truth here, although none of the names of the innocent or the guilty have been changed. This tale you are about to devour could only be construed as entertainment. Sit back wherever you may be and enjoy a wonderful and horrible yesterday.

  All the best,

  M.C. O’Neill

  Many thanks to Patrice Ekins, Ken Henson, and Mom.

  NB: As per the Toltec tongue, “Xo’chi” is to be pronounced as “Shoat-ZEE.”

  I.

  THE SONG OF SAMMIAN

  “I see Earth! It is so beautiful!”

  -Yuri Gagarin

  “What it is, only God knows.”

  -H.P. Lovecraft: The Color Out of Space (1927).

  Tremor

  They arrived in the late afternoon. Them. They were made from nothing more than the simplest of shapes, yet that shape would prove to become a badge of doom. That afternoon, in the middle of what seemed to be an ordinary Fourthmoon, the sun was interrupted by their shadows upon every corner of the earth. They broke through the very fabric of reality like ripped linen in frightening synchronicity, and they all loved being a part of that foul moment, if one could call what they felt “love.” As for all that lived on Earth, they held nothing but spite. It was an unholy malice that was forged and forever cemented not long after that wonderful blue world’s creation. Little did the people of the earth know that terrible day, they were targeted for a grand rapture, and their destination would be total damnation.

  ***

  Quen’die Reyliss was lounging in the blue glow of the large wall-mounted manascreen which had been a monumental fixture in her family’s spacious living room for quite some time. She looked down from the sofa at her brother with a bit of irritation. Gonduanna Vice was blaring through the speakers at a level only he could tolerate. The elf was sitting cross-legged on the floor, much too close to it, entranced by the intense action of Gonduanna’s Finest busting a cartel of hyena poachers.

  “Yeah! Kill ‘em!” Kaedish cheered for the onscreen officers as they closed in on the criminals who were huddled in their tropical hideout. “Get ‘em good!”

  “By the gods! Would you turn that down some?” She scolded him from over the blaring racket of shouts, caster fire and hyena cackles. “I mean, you’re only a hand’s length away!”

  “Hush, will you! I want to see Specialist Nabudu’ke take these poachers down!” Kaedish hated being interrupted while he was watching his shows, but it was all the worse if he was being told what to do. “Besides, why don’t you call up your dumb friend, the one with the huge ears instead of bugging me and just leave me alone?”

  “Oh, you mean you want me to invite Lauryl’la over, hmm?” Quen’die widened her eyes and flashed a giant grin to taunt him. “I think someone here is in love!” Sometimes, the maiden judged, Kaedish needed the jabs to take his mind off the screen which he had become ever the more glued to.

  “I don’t love her!” He detested being teased about maidens as it was still a big topic of embarrassment to a lad of his age. “She’s stupid, she has gigantic ears, and she’s at least ten feet tall. Not only that, her constant laughing makes my ears ring!” Kaedish would not divert his gaze from the foreign police drama.

  “You, dear brother, are a liar. And I can tell when you lie because your feet stink and your ears wiggle.” With that, Quen’die giggled. “Seriously though, lower the volume. It wastes mana and Mother and Father will get mad at me when they get the bill.”

  Kaedish surrendered to his sister’s wishes and groaned in dejection as he uttered the directive for the screen’s sound to lower to a more acceptable level. “Yeah, all right. Telen’vid Sien…”

  “Why thanks, Kaedish. Now I can think properly.” The young elfmaid got up from the large wraparound sofa. The blast from the cacophonous soundtrack was still grating on her nerves despite her brother conceding to her demands.

  “That’s funny,” Kaedish at last broke from the screen and turned around toward the maiden. “I didn’t know you had any brains in the first place.”

  “Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get a red avocado. Do you want one?” she asked him while half-hoping that he would say no so she wouldn’t have to bother preparing another one.

  “No,” he was becoming more annoyed by her attentions and he figured she was doing it on purpose. “Wait! Do we any fried gram left?” he inquired with a sudden puppy-like enthusiasm.

  “Nope,” she flipped back her thick hair with an air of authority. “And we aren’t getting any more either because Mother said it will destroy our complexions. Don’t you want to look handsome for Rylla? Hmm…?” Quen’die continued to tease as she caressed her smooth skin with an absence of thought for any possible blemishes. She was relieved to find none.

  “Just be gone!” The young elf was now being pushed to his limit with his sister’s teasing. “I don’t like Lauryl’la or any of your other stupid elfmaid friends! Much like you, none of them are pretty enough for the likes of me,” he managed to add with a self-congratulatory bang to his chest.

  “Kaedish, everybody in school knows that you’ll end-up marrying a swamp hag. So once again, I have proven you wrong.” She made her way through the voluminous archway which led to their kitchen. Her long, gossamer skirt swirled around her ankles as she walked.

  Surprised to see only one red avocado left, she ordered ice from the refrigerator. “Aquan’as fris,” she chanted to summon the cubes into her glass. Just as she was about to peel the ruddy fruit, the new manaphone that her folks got her for Wintersfest called out in its ghostly, but feminine, musical voice, “Maiden Quen’die, Maiden Lauryl’la calls you.” After some frantic searching for her most prized gift, she found the device forged of creamy cured jade on the counter next to the kitchen’s hearth.

  “Hey, Rylla, what’s up?” She greeted just in time before the flow cut.

  “Hey, Dee, how goes it?” Lauryl’la answered in her usual chipper voice. It was quite the contrast to Quen’die’s calm and flowing manner of speech.

  “Pretty good. If only my dumb brother would wink out of existence. You know, I think he crushes for you because every time I mention your name he goes totally red.” Quen’die could tell that her brother had some unsaid feelings for her best friend. Of course, he would never vocalize this because he knew that his sister would never let him hear the end of it.

  “Foul!” her friend winced over the phone. “Do you think I should avoid coming over until he decides to act like an elven being, or at least until his face clears up?”

  “No,” Quen’die was somewhat offended at Lauryl’la’s remark regarding the lad. “I think you’ll be fine. He’ll just get shy and hide in his
room, anyway. Don’t worry too much about it.”

  Although she engaged in constant spats of varying intensity with her younger sibling, she still felt an urge, or more like an obligation, to protect him when someone outside of her family insulted him; regardless of whether he deserved it. As far as Quen’die was concerned, only she had the right to offend her brother.

  “Point noted. Are you still going to the big thing this weekend? I’m so lucky to have parents that work at the same place…” Lauryl’la boasted in excitement, “…and go on training missions together. It’s going to be so amazing! As a matter-of-fact, I told Hyrax about it. When I let him know that you would definitely be there, his ears seriously turned like, bright pink!”

  Quen’die had carried a bit of a crush for Hyrax Arcovis ever since she joined the runta team at school. He was a rather intimidating sight, to say the least. At the age of sixteen, he was already seven feet tall and wore his obsidian-black hair in a lush topknot. For the most part, he was quite friendly to her, but every time she opened her mouth to speak to him, she could barely muster a monosyllable. That was such a frustration for her since she considered herself to be a very sharp elf as she had made the academic warden’s list every semester since entering adept school.

  Why on Earth does my intelligence drop like a bucket full of bricks every time I face him? she had often asked herself in a state of bewilderment. After all, I aced my Astrophysical Navigation classes with honors and nobody does that. Nonetheless, I can’t string the fewest of words while I’m around a particular male. Lauryl’la’s news of his blushing did little to soothe her nerves because she knew that she would still flub any conversation she attempted with him while staring at his frame in a regretful, hypnotic trance.

  “Oh gods! Is he seriously going to show up?” Quen’die tried to stifle a shocked gasp. As this was going to be her first social gathering outside of a school function, it was already a daunting event, but knowing this made her all the more knotted.

  “That he is, so you definitely need to look cute for this,” her best friend advised.

  From the living room, Kaedish was throwing one of his usual tantrums about some trivial crisis involving the manascreen. Quen’die could hear the din of him smacking its frame with a rather harsh force, and this belayed her cold feet regarding Hyrax.

  “Just a moment, Rylla,” she was becoming more exasperated with her brother and now that he was firing up his angry antics, she could feel a headache brewing. “Kaedish!” she called into the living room. “Knock it off! You’ll break it and it’s expensive!”

  “The screen just shut off for no reason and now I can’t see the end of my show! This thing is a Tel’lemurian piece of junk! I have no clue why Father bought this model in the first place!” He would often cry about such stupid gadgets as if his life depended on them. Just to pack in the point, he smacked the frame once again.

  “Well, acting like a newborn elfling and pummeling it won’t make the mana flow any better. You’ll just wind up busting it permanently,” she lectured him like a harsh academic warden, which was something she found herself doing almost every hour on the hour.

  “Stop calling me an elfling!” he cried through the wide, main archway. “I hate it when you do that! You always do that!”

  Kaedish had been acting out quite a bit as of late; more than a normal, well-adjusted, thirteen-year-old elf would. His behavior had gone downhill ever since their little brother passed away. He had felt somewhat like the lord of the house after Kellyn was born and he had been very protective of the baby. When the little elfling had succumbed to an unfortunate illness, the young lad had withdrawn into the shows, games and computer on the manascreen and had even begun to gain some weight as he was always snacking. With the exception of his particularly obnoxious friend Noopy, Kaedish had been isolating from his other peers and his grades had been falling at a steady rate. The pair’s mother and father were duly concerned about his routines and had sought counsel for their son. The school’s health warden had been administering potions and treatments to help alleviate his woe, but such a process would take some time to have a discernible effect. It was frequent that Quen’die took the brunt of the lad’s outrages and she had fretted that she was assuming the role of a third parent for him.

  Unlike Kaedish, the elfmaid turned not to food, but immersed herself in athletics and academics to help cope with the family’s tragic loss. She always seemed to be busy with activities, curricular or otherwise, to the point that her mother would call her “the invisible willow.” Sometimes, the young maiden figured that it was her responsibility to hold everything together just in case Kaedish failed to do so.

  As if the chaos around and inside her would not subside, Quen’die could feel the phone lose its vibration. “Hello? Hello, Rylla? Hey, are you still there?” To answer her question, the phone interjected with its soothing, singing voice, “I am sorry, Maiden Quen’die. There is a disruption in the manaflow. This conversation has been severed.”

  On that cue, all the lights in the house went out with a sudden bang and Kaedish screamed in shock. To add to the frightening event, all of the other mana vibrations in the house had ceased and Quen’die’s ears began to feel a bit hot. Their entire home was still, save Kaedish’s shouting.

  “Dee! What’s going on! What did you do? My ears are burning up!” The elf was massaging the sides of his long, pointed ears as if the act would somehow cool them.

  “Kaedish, I’ve done nothing. Our power has just…”

  !!!

  The next thing Quen’die knew was the feeling of being swept off her feet and onto the kitchen’s smoked-marble floor with a bone-stunning jolt to her rear end. Waves of pain surged up her slender back as she cried out in a combination of terror and misery. She hadn’t felt an ache so sharp since she slid on both knees while playing runta at school the year before. After the accident, she had been delivered to the emergency ward where the health wardens had to slather her legs with a particularly odorous mana-based salve for the next three days. Despite the foul smell of the medicine, she remembered the cool, soothing relief and marveled at how her scored skin would regenerate before her very eyes with each application.

  “Gods! Gods! We’re under attack! I just know it!” Kaedish continued to bellow. He was lying face down on the living room’s mammothskin rug; his hands clutching the top of the coppery curls on his head. From time to time, Quen’die thought his brazen hair accentuated his fiery temper. “The Lems are going to kill us! Maybe that was them landing or maybe it was even one of their airstrikes!”

  “Oh-OW! Fool!” Quen’die admonished the lad in thoughtless pain, still flat on her back. She felt as though the very Earth’s gravity was sucking her entire body into the floor. “I-It was just a bad tremor,” she managed as she inhaled a deep gale of air. “ See? Our ears are even getting hot.”

  “Yeah, but don’t the Lems have weapons that can cause tremors and earthquakes?” Kaedish was going to start with his xenophobic paranoid theories again, Quen’die could foresee. “I’ve heard all about a new device they have that can rend the earth right out from under our feet. I know that’s what this is.”

  “You watch the screen too much,” she said to him with a grunt as she got herself up from the hard floor. Her whole body ached and she wanted to fall back down for a few seconds. The sting from her fall was still pulsing and a cascade of her oxblood-red hair was draped over her face. “That’s a bunch of conspiracy and junk. Tel’lemuria can’t devise a weapon to crack the earth.”

  She pulled dense strands of her scarlet mane away from her eyes. “Why would they want to do that in the first place? We’re at peace again,” his sister tried to explain this to him as she limped back into the living room. This kind of pain would rear its head in intermittent, grinding reminders for days, she estimated.

  “Don’t be so sure,” said her brother with a slow, wary warning. “Those greenskins are sneaky and you’ll never be the wiser as to what they
’re planning behind our backs. The next thing you know, you’ll fall through a fissure deep into the very earth’s core all on account of them!”

  “Oh? Care to be any more racist, Kaedish?” Quen’die raised an eyebrow. “What did Mother say to you about using those kinds of words?” The elfmaid massaged her stinging tailbone and the topical stab of the fall was already becoming a phasic pulse of agony.

  “I know,” he began with a sheepish groan. “I’m sorry. I just… I just don’t trust them. That’s all.”

  “You know, Professor Miryon is a Lem and he’s one of the best teachers we have at school,” Quen’die continued. “I trust him well enough. And certainly, Tel’lemuria is chock-full of elves that are just as capital as he is.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Like I said, I’m sorry about that. When stuff like this happens, I keep thinking about all the war stories our uncle tells us about the Lems and how it was pretty scary,” Kaedish admitted. To only confirm the effect the old elf had on him, Quen’die noticed that the lad was wearing one of his uncle’s old, camouflaged Defense Forces t-shirts from that war which boasted in a stark military script:

  “401st. Atlantean Light Lancers: Tu’balsyn, Tel’lemuria ‘69.”

  “Look, those were different times before either of us was born and we’re very lucky to not have to live though them,” Quen’die reminded him. “Stop worrying about this kind of stuff. You know our uncle drinks too much wine before he goes on with those horrible stories.”

  She looked away toward the basement door, her attention diverted to more pressing matters. “Come on, we need to check to see if there’s any damage from the quake, and I assure you, it is just a quake.” With that, she went back to the kitchen, still limping a bit, and rummaged through the broom closet to look for a couple of torches.

  The two set off for the basement in hopes of reactivating the house’s power. Simultaneously, they slapped the ends of their torches as both devices awoke with a one-note tune, thus lighting their way towards their family’s manafountain.

  “Hey, Dee. If the mana isn’t flowing, why are the torches working?” asked her brother.

  “Because they’re powered with ‘dumb’ mana. They have self-contained charges and aren’t linked to the flow,” she responded to him with as much patience as she could.

  “Oh… right. Yeah, I knew that,” Kaedish blushed, sensing her irritation.

  Ever since Kaedish’s grades had begun to slip, he became somewhat self-conscious of his intelligence. It had become a bit of a soft spot for him and Quen’die tried her best to not berate his intellect during their fights which were increasing in frequency. That was difficult, in her opinion, because sometimes she felt that he was acting more or less ignorant by bothering her with some pretty common sense questions.

  Their family’s vaulted basement was spacious, well-designed, and had fully-finished hardwood flooring with a small manascreen hanging from its curved wall. Their mother and father used it mostly to entertain guests from their job, and thus, it was decked out with entertainment fixtures such as a miniature runta tabletop game and a small bar which was stocked with many exotic (and some very expensive) liquors and elixirs. Behind it rested Father’s prized wine collection. Suspended from one wall in the middle of the room, a large plaque hewn from oak displayed a famous Atlantean motto cast in an ancient script, “Love This Earth or Leave It!” Set aside in another room, immovable as a mountain, stood the manafountain.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with it from the outside,” Quen’die observed as she illuminated the monolithic appliance in the blue gloom of the outage. She didn’t want to make direct contact with it because she was worried about getting a burn. Under normal circumstances, the fixture would make an even-metered hum which they had taken for granted, despite it being rather loud. It all seemed quite ominous in that it was dead silent.

  The house’s fountain was a floor-to-ceiling, bulging pillar that dug beyond their home’s foundation and deep into the earth below. Its sole purpose was to direct mana from their community’s manaspring and power their home with the raw energy derived from up in the earth’s manasphere. Screens, hearths, heating, lighting; almost all of their family’s appliances were dependent upon the pulse of the bulky thing. Their fountain was of a particular ornate model that was covered with runes and sigils which would throb with a bright blue light when it was in proper working condition. The model was of the finest Atlantean craftsmanship and hewn from petrified mahogany. Kaedish enjoyed bragging to his classmates how it was at least three centuries old.

  “That’s bad news,” Kaedish lamented. “It probably means the manaspring is messed up.”

  “Yeah, more than likely,” his sister agreed while still searching the pillar for a possible solution. “Now all we can do is wait around for the power wardens to reboot it. I’m sure they’re working on it right now, especially since the whole town must be without power.”

  Just after Quen’die had spoken, a choral arpeggio of manasong coursed through the pillar and the tiny utility room was bathed in a blinding azure light throughout. The siblings both let out a startled yelp and laughed in unison with joy and relief. The fountain commenced humming its usual song of labor: “woob, woob, woob…”

  “Don’t look at me!” the elfmaid giggled to her brother while shrugging her bony shoulders. “I didn’t do it!” She felt fortunate for her wisdom to not touch the apparatus, because the scorch would have been immense if she had placed her hand on it at the wrong time.

  Throughout the entire house, their appliances and gadgets were singing their unintelligible tunes of arousal. Kaedish always loved to hear the house power up after a blackout because he thought it sounded so amazing.

  “Thank the gods that’s over with,” the young elf commented. “I didn’t want Mother and Father coming home to a blackout and then have them blame me for it.”

  “You know they wouldn’t do that,” his sister assured him. “They’d know right away that it was a problem with the spring.” Kaedish was accruing punishments all the more for his frequent outbursts and tantrums, but Mother and Father were very fair when it came to discipline. They would always listen to his side of the story, even if it was composed with his fuzzy logic.

  They ran up the stairs into their modestly-designed living room. The overhead lights were once again charged and the pair could navigate through their family’s sparse, but elegant furnishings with ease. Device-by-device, the main floor came to life. The large, cured-ashwood screen on the wall rebooted with its familiar wakesong and, with a few flashes of light, displayed with pride its world-famous homescreen:

  WELCOME TO MANASOFT!

  A Dara’vanian Corporation.

  “Connecting you and your loved ones for one thousand quality years.”

  Where shall we go today?

  “I thought they’d never ask,” Kaedish answered the screen with a chuckle. “Take me to channel 201,” he ordered the entertainment system without pause. “Red Mana Overdose. Thanks.”

  “Why must you watch those stupid, violent shows?” his sister inquired of him. In that instant, she regretted it because she knew it would spawn yet another barrage of banter from his little hot head.

  “So what?” Kaedish snapped, just as she had expected. “You’re just gonna hop on your phone and call-up ten feet of Rylla and her big, dumb ears, anyway.”

  As if the gods themselves heard the young elf’s complaint, Quen’die’s manaphone sang to her, “Maiden Quen’die, Maiden Lauryl’la calls you.”

  “See? What did I tell you?” Kaedish slapped his knee with self-assured smugness. “Point proven.”

  “Whatever,” Quen’die shot back as she answered her friend’s call, only to be assaulted by Lauryl’la’s excited jabber before she could even get the phone up to her ear.

  “Ohmygods! Ohmygods!” Lauryl’la volleyed through the phone without taking a breath. “Maiden, have you seen what’s on the screen? You will absolutely not believe it!”

/>   “Hang on a moment,” Quen’die ordered her friend. She was becoming a bit flustered from the ache in her back, Kaedish’s surly attitude and her eyes having to readjust to the light. “Kaedish just awoke it. Did you have a blackout too?”

  “Yeah, we did, but that’s not the big deal. Just wait for one of the channels to come on. It’s all over the screen! ” her best friend squealed half in terror, half with excitement. “Just watch it!”

  Instead of Kaedish’s expected action/drama which almost always consisted of Atlantean spies assassinating Tel’lemurian terrorists in some exotic locale, or a legendary epic of his ancient forefathers exterminating hordes of orcs with glee, the two were met with a news report. Emblazoned in red across the screen, an alert warned:

  EMERGENCY BROADCAST: SPECIAL NEWS REPORT

  Onscreen, Quay’liss Dalian, a well-respected newsreader who covered only the biggest of the best stories, stood in front of a gigantic vessel of a make that Quen’die could not recognize. It wasn’t a crashed limmer, to be sure, as it was much too large for that. The best she could describe it would have been a smooth and streamlined pyramid or ziggurat poking at a slight angle from out of the earth. A caption at the bottom of the screen scrolled:

  Numerous Vessels of Unknown Origin Appearing Across Atlantis. Communication Blackout With Other Nations.

  The elves sat in rapt attention as Dalian reported the details of this mysterious incident. Even Kaedish wasn’t fidgeting as usual, and both of the teens’ eyes were as wide as a mountain elk’s. Onscreen, Dalian appeared to keep composure, but the siblings could tell that even her famous, steadfast iciness was beginning to show its cracks as she reported what must have been the grandest story of her career. A fashionable shock of blue-streaked, platinum-blond hair cascaded over one of her eyes and down her fine, chiseled features.

  “Good evening, Atlantis. Tonight I am standing in front of what appears to be a giant pyramid of unknown origin at a location not far from our own capital city of Corosa. These objects suddenly materialized seemingly out of nowhere all across the kingdom in areas of thankfully low population. If you had experienced an earthquake or a tremor this evening, these monstrous hulks are likely to be the blame. Eyewitness accounts from around the provinces all share one report - they did not land from the skies. That is correct, and I repeat - these structures, or whatever they are, did not touch down, but rather…appeared. It is still not known what the natures of these objects are. Speculations that they may be vessels or devices, or perhaps, buildings have already set the manacloud abuzz with rumors and frankly, fearsome tales. Thus far, we have no tally in regards to damages or injuries due to this event or from any of the resulting tremors they have caused. We assure you that we will keep you informed of any developments regarding the nature of this strange arrival as soon as we are able.”

  “HAW-HAW!” Kaedish pointed at his sister with accusatory satisfaction. “What did I tell you? We are under attack! I’ll bet you a million brens that it’s the Lems! I’m gonna grab Father’s caster!” Despite his threat, the elf remained entranced by the news report and failed to respond to his own call to arms.

  Quen’die ignored her brother’s outburst and kept her eyes transfixed on the screen. The maiden was trying to process all that was happening.

  “Hey, Rylla,” she said to her friend without paying any real attention; unable to look away from the broadcast. “I’ll call you back. I wanna see the rest of this.”

  “Capital,” Lauryl’la agreed. “Isn’t this crazy? Until later.” With that, she disconnected as Dalian continued the report.

  “As you can see, I am standing daringly close to this particular object. It is merely one of a reported one hundred appearances of these pyramidal objects throughout the kingdom. There may be several more than that as of yet undiscovered.”

  On the reporter’s cue, the recording mirrors of the newscast panned away from her to better establish the layout of the event. Hovering around the pyramid, combat-grade limmers belonging to the Atlantean Defense Forces beamed their spotlights to better reveal its size and shape. There was even a cadre of large, wooden power-golems festooned in Atlantis’s blue and white markings clunking around the hulk’s base. Atlantean standards fluttered from poles which jutted out of the golems’ bulky shoulders. Kaedish’s heart swelled with national pride and a sense of security at the display. Squinting to get a more concerted look, he could see the vermillion glow of the airships’ heavy casters, which he knew very well, meant that they were online and ready for action.

  “If you look closely, you can see,” the reporter continued from offscreen. “The national defense wardens are forming perimeters around the pyramids at each of these sites all over the kingdom. Do not be alarmed, they are merely present for crowd-control and illumination purposes.”

  “Now that’s what I want to do when I grow up! I want to join the ADF! I could be a belly-caster on a combat limmer!” Kaedish exclaimed with bravado. “I’d swoop down on all our enemies with my casters blazing away! ‘Eat red mana, Lem! Kill! Kill!’”

  “Gods, you are such a scab!” his sister chided out of one side of her mouth, her eyes still glued to the screen. “I somehow don’t believe we’re truly related. Besides, if you want to ever join the Defense Forces, you’ll need to lay off the fritter pies and fried gram.”

  “Whatever,” her brother said with a defensive scowl while patting his budding belly. “This is just elfling fat. By the time I’m your age, I’ll be one hundred percent gorilla-muscle and ready to kick some Lem tail.”

  “Sure…if you say so.” Quen’die could only roll her large, green almondine eyes to that. Sometimes the lad’s bloodthirsty streak worried her, but she figured it was just an early-adolescent phase. Either way, he could prove to be quite an embarrassment whenever he was around her friends. Once, she thought she heard Lauryl’la call him ‘Sergeant Scab’ under her breath.

  “Oh, dear sister, mark my words! I’ll be the scourge of the enemy’s battlefield!” he proclaimed as he slapped his chest to celebrate a fictitious victory.

  “Fine. But until then, stop being such a little orc,” she said, still not bothering to look at him or his ridiculous display of machismo.

  “Ah, but orcs are extinct,” he chimed as if he were some grim professor.

  “Sometimes,” she grumbled with a low, guilty resonance, “I wish you were extinct.”