A Whimsy On The Dark Fears:

In a land where things are mostly good,
The trees are shielding us from the wood,
Dire dangers seem to all around us lurk
Or so our minds want to work.

When you’re walking through the park,
And hear a rustling in the dark,
It’s more like to be an owl,
Than some murderer most foul.

As you stagger home a little pissed,
It’s almost surely not a terrorist,
Who is standing waiting by your car,
But a drunken friend from the bar.

When you’re driving along the coast,
It is fairly unlikely that it’s a ghost,
That approaches, flashing, from the rear,
And far more likely the gendarmes, I fear.

But if a bird craps on your head,
You’ll be lucky all day, it’s said,
Or when a shooting star is seen,
Then you’ll have what ever you dream.

And if you find a four leafed clover,
Then all your troubles will soon be over,
And what’s at that lovely rainbow’s end,
Will make you the banker’s very best friend.

In the irrational we find such oddities to treasure,
Which improve our lives well beyond measure.
But the rational world has such imagined fear,
And that, dear friends, I really find most queer. :)

Mare Horribilis, Mare Vitae:

It is a mournful silver Moon, no smile on her face, all her tears 
Spent long and long ago, reluctantly cutting through her endless 
Course, pulling soft on the Earth’s blighted blanket of the seas. 

No mermen and maids swim where they had dwelled in times 
Of magic; no strands of hair float, betraying their presence.

No fishes, no sharks, dolphins, turtles or great whales are there. 

No little sea horses canter proudly, heads held high, around 
Underwater courses, an audience of excited shrimp, and stolid, 
Wide-eyed groupers enthralled by the show, cheering them on.

Slime, oil and tar slick the surface, a vomited memo from man.

Reluctant lunar fingers recoil in deep, despairing and growing 
Disgust as they touch her old friend’s sickly, putrescent shroud.

Across the planet little breathing can be heard now, and that all 
Gasping,  rasping in search of the rare and thin traces of oxygen, 
As the fetid phytoplankton rot, and dying algal blooms form  
Stinking mats, sluggishly riding the lurching, ponderous waves,

The very last and largest of the surfers unseen, and their stench 
No longer assailing and abusing long gone olfactory nerves.

Standing like so many rotting teeth, some almost submerged, 
On the water’s edge and along new, despoiled and ragged shore 
Lines, are blackened tree stumps stripped bare by acid rain.

Stark white bones of beasts lie, carelessly scattered, making a 
Tragic, un-mourned mosaic of piano keys designed by a mad, 
Uncaring deviant deity, left for harsh winds and rains to play. 

Streams which ran to the rivers, to the lakes, to the seas, once 
Alive and then choked by dead fishes, run free of impediment.

Those dead-eyed folk who remain have long ago ceased to find 
Succour in visiting once charmed faery woods, meadows and 
Wandering, hallowed country parks, now all metamorphosed

Into reeking charnel houses, even echoes of their beauty lost.   

Where life had flourished, thrived, now scrub grasses, moss and

Small shrubs reign supreme, and that supremacy to be short 
Lived, as with those few tenacious insects and subterranean 
Dwellers still finding niches where they survive – for now.

No longer is the whir of wings, the bee’s hum or any bird song 
Heard, though there are precious few now to hear it, and

Those too busy scratching about to stay alive to have noticed or 
Appreciated it, or if they had, only as a possible source of food. 

No chorus at dawn, no mellifluous, haunting calls of waking 
Owls at dusk; no bats throw their bodies, twisting, lunging, 
Spiralling through the air, now the killer of that which had 
Helped to sustain them, the once dancing skies purged of life. 

Cancers brought low the billions, no respecter of any genus.  
Herbivores suffered least, dying first.  Cannibalism became a 
Norm, first with the dead but then with less discrimination, as 
Many creatures slipped, slow or fast, into a depraved savagery, 
Including those who in their over-weaning arrogance and pride 
Destroyed the planet they relied on for life and are about to 
Depart with no trace of honour or dignity, starved as all others, 
The lowly beasts, made equal as a thick, greasy mist smothers 
The land they had loved, foul toxic rain with berserker winds 
Raping the skies.  Has God, weeping turned her eyes elsewhere?

In the city some hang on a little longer, scavengers fighting, 
Killing for rusty cans of prunes and such delights, too tired to 
See the beauty now offered in the cold arms of Sergeant Death.

The meek have not inherited the Earth; they are the lucky ones.

 

The Moon’s dejected light catches cockroaches scuttling in the 
Shadows, their success at last completed in their long running, 
Bitter battle for dominance with rats, but if they now wish to

Revel, sing and dance in strange cockroach ways, their victory 
Exultance will be short, soon to turn to despairing ululations.

Now picture this; the strange, scratching peace is broken by a 
Clap of thunder, harbinger for the on-coming deluge of rain. 

The few living things left to do so, desperately make for refuge, 
Away from its lashing whip and careless, corrosive harsh caress. 

Even the perverse plant life that remains, now grows away from

Light, shunning the sickly sun’s guileful rays, that sly quisling

In the Dealing of Death, moving to spots with more of shelter. 

The mucus-sea slides its way through streets, doorways and 
Windows long shattered, forcing itself and its law upon a land 
Now not even a shadow of what it was; a sick, and corrupted, 
Psychotic; an amoral triumphant killer, dealing slow, deliberate,

Painful death to all those who had used and abused her so.

Suddenly an artificial light lacerates the perilous darkness, 
Stunning the Moon and sending the few denizens left to dwell 
In the filthy remnant scum of civilisation, scuttling back, 
Begging the lifesaving shadows to draw them further in. 

Tearless Selene watches as a small craft comes to life, exiting 
The feculence of the pitiful, betraying promise of the city to 
Glide silently, with surreal certainty in an uncertain world,

Its bizarre, unlikely destination the noxious water, where it 
Continues, without pause, on its way and then submerges.

Steadily the craft creeps down through slime, the few fronds

Of dying plants and fluid fields of death towards the depths, 
And with time safely docks within a titanic artificial sea-cavern. 

Three crew exit and make their way slowly through water filled 
Tunnels to a control room where, exhausted but relieved, they

Wait to be debriefed, minds a deluge of data and new certainty.

The Leader nods as they sign their report.  The planet is on the 
Brink of being unable to maintain life forms requiring oxygen. 

Certainly, deoxygenation of the sea is coming to levels which,

Within a few full circuits of the local star, will give conditions

Ideal to allow the colonists to be woken from their centuries of

Cryogenic sleep and be shuttled down from the mother-ships

To take full possession of this convivial, perfect and truly

God-given planet.  Through all their generations of travel, the 
Dangers, their travails, fears and woeful losses, they had never 
Dared dream in their wildest dreams of finding such a Paradise.

For Tom and Cat Driscoll on their marriage

Love:

I walked in the land of the three

Moons, where the wolf lies down with

The lamb, there to find the oldest

Partners to ask them, what is love?

“Love changes and deepens. It is not always 

The fiery inferno experienced in early days.  

Nurture it as you would a delicate flower

And it will grow, change and bloom.”

The two suns chasing the moons from

The sky, I searched then for young lovers

As they, in their innocence and sheer joy,

Walked hand in hand, in their inner paradise. 

“New love burns like an internal fire, bringing

Madness and ecstasy, often in equal measure.  

Separation can bring pain.  Beauty seen 

Without your lover to share it with hurts.”

So, on I slowly continued, beside a chortling

Stream, fish darting, scales scintillating in the 

Sun’s light as a kingfisher flashed down for 

Lunch; I found two lovers bathing there.

“Love is union, two bodies entwining, being 

One, wanting, needing, healthily lusting,

Laughing and then more wild, or languid, 

Loving. With our bodies, we each worship.”

On I travelled, through the wide, fresh-green 

Meadows of the two rivers, in search of a wise 

Hermit who dwelled by a silent lake, eating 

Only lotus leaves, and asked her, what is love?

“It is pain free compromise, give and take,

Looking for agreement around middle ground.

Sometimes it is admitting that you are wrong

Even when you know that you are not.”

I walked then to an Ale House, set in a tiny

Village which was tucked into a pocket at

The side of a gently rolling hill, and there

Asked my question of a very wobbly man.

“Love is knowing when to lie to your partner 

And when not to. If you are asked if her 

Bottom looks big in this, before you go out

You tell the truth.  If it’s after, then you lie.”

I travelled further through these enchanted 

Lands of singing rivers, burping frogs acting 

As orchestra to accompany their songs.  There

I asked of a thoughtful Tyrant, recently retired.

“It is not about dominance, or psychological

Warfare. Love will wither and die if one being 

Feels the need to dominate the other; if that is 

So, it needs must cease.  So I’ve now learned.”

I asked then Melania, his Queen whose beauty 

The Tyrant had coveted as a trophy, and who, 

Finishing her inner weeping, was learning to 

Smile and find hope in her new-born spouse.

“Point scoring against each other, unless it is 

In jest, is vile and dangerous, and thinking that 

You possess your partner has no place in love,

Leading to true love eroding and its death.”

I flew then, on broad-winged Pegasus, through 

Air enchanted by unicorn song and odours of

Sweet blossoms, and sought she who had lost 

Her true love, yet still held him in her heart.

“Be you caring and nurture each blessed day,

Love becomes also friendship, your lover, 

Your best friend. You think it so when first 

You love.  This is seldom true. Strive!”

I flew on through the wild and snow-peaked

Mountains to ask of love from two wise

Philosophers, wed to each other, both atop

Their own summit, holding each other’s hand.

“Love requires space for both but also 

Exploring shared passions and understandings.

It is, too, a true expression of love not to force

Your partner to share all that animates you.

On again I travelled, over the gentle waters to

A gold flaked isle where a principled Owl

Was oracle, his hooted wisdom discernible 

To all, it was said, and there I learned yet more.

“Love is about empathy, trying to understand 

And feel the why and wherefore of your lover,

Walking a mile in your partner’s shoes, really

And deeply searching to feel what they feel.”

I waved farewell as I departed that gilded isle

And floated in search of new shores, where 

There stood a silver statue which assented to 

Speak as a prophet for the Goddess Aphrodite. 

“Love requires grace.  What is grace?  Grace is 

Pure acceptance without judgement; grace to 

Receive praise; grace to give true forgiveness; 

Grace to be forgiven; humble grace in love.”

On dragon-back I continued my search for

Wisdom about that which makes us feel most 

Alive, though not pledging happiness, and 

There by a lake listened to a Willow weeping.

“Love is a thing you need to treasure, to hold 

Firm after a spat or hurt, when it is hardest.  

Remember your love and nurture it, cherish it, 

Even when you are aching or in a rage.”

My next steps took me to the Rainbow City

Where a night-black unicorn with a platted tail

And a wedding ring upon her front left hoof

Answered me and echoed thus the Willow:

“Love needs to be cherished and cultivated.

Don’t take it for granted. Do not forget, 

Especially when times are hard, that through 

This love from this person, you are blessed.”

Again I journeyed, now through a lush green

Valley where butterflies flitted and sang

Soft songs, and there I met a couple, both

Holding a bouquet of flowers, who said:

“Love is about feeling special and making

Your partner feel likewise, but not resenting

That it’s not possible all of the time.  Be aware 

That the brightest candle can burn shortest.”

On I continued my voyage along an exquisite 

Beach by a sea of aquamarine.  Here I met a 

Small creature, sweet, delicate featured and 

Rainbow-winged, a child’s tooth in her hand.

“Love is about small things, the unnecessary 

Gentle touch and kiss, an unexpected, ‘I love 

You’ and celebrations of non-birth days. Gifts, 

Too.  The reason? The elation in your love.”

My next visit was with a mystic, two headed

Creature of great beauty, both heads now

Smiling, content, but bodily a little creased 

From trying to pull one way or another.

“Love is thinking about your partner before 

Yourself, and knowing they do the same for 

You.  It is also about accepting that you

Won’t always manage this, either of you.”

At the end of my journey in search of love’s

Meaning I met an emaciated man who

Leaned against wire fencing, tall chimneys

Behind him belching foul smelling smoke.

“Love is what you hold on to when there is 

Nothing left to hold on to, nothing left to live 

For, no rational hope - but that certainty of 

Love gives meaning to struggling on.”

At the same fence, standing unseen by the 

Emaciated man, supporting his wrecked body 

Was an Angel, or some such.  To her I asked 

The same question and she answered me thus.

“Love is varied, individual and twixt two

People, whatever their gender, age, creed

Colour, political affiliation or any other

Irrelevant ‘difference’.  Love is personal.” 

She gently laid the man’s body down, his last 

Expression a smile, and she spoke on. “It 

Brings more to lives than wealth, or comfort – 

Is indeed supreme and part of the God-head.”

I bowed my thanks and turned then from that 

Horrific place and saw even there, there was 

Bird-song and the sun and a man who smiled

His last breath because his love made him free.

As I walked away I pondered.  Love is not a 

Simple thing, not to find, nor to keep.  If one 

Has the good fortune to feel it and it to be 

Reciprocated, treasure that magical flower.

The Broken Winged Angel:

In a ditch, they were when I found them,

A young lad, battered, raiment in tatters, 

Unshod, with his fine, strong fingers and

Toes webbed, gills clear marked in his

Neck.  The other confused me also and 

Ere I understood my mind needs must  

Somersaults  do, for this figure indeed 

Was difficult to discern.  An adult, yeah, 

But how was the face covered thus by a

Gnarled wing, feathers charred, some

Down to the base?  T’was odd indeed! 

I saw the lad draw breath, gasping with 

His mouth as though uncertain as to the

First moment learned act of breathing.  

Mastering it, however, allowed a more 

Gentle rhythm for the rise and fall of

His young chest, though gills too fanned 

The air, a birth-habit too hard to lose.

The Winged-One, lying there, innocent 

Among the fetid filth, appeared not

To breath and yet the tortured wing did

Twitch and I understood, knowing not 

Why, this being lived still and had a 

Spirit more extraordinary than any I

Had heretofore encountered or would.

I thought no more on it but scrambled

Down, first to the lad, comatose

But whole, and then to the other more

Perplexing soul.  He must have heard

Me and the broken wing swiftly rose

Revealing a face possessed of such a 

Wondrous beauty it fair took my breath 

Away!  I gawked, yokel-like and fell, 

Vertiginous, into the deepest of eyes.  

Gold they were, full of love and wisdom.  

I gasped and forced my senses to return.

As I reached down to raise him up

His hand reached mine and an electric 

Charge ran through my being entire!

He rose slow but strong, his wings

Closing somewhat crooked behind,

And reached down to lift the Lad, a

Move of extraordinary tenderness.

I hefted him, lad in his arms, and

With a strength I knew not that I

Possessed had them up on the track

And me alongside them in instants.

The Winged-One inspected with the

Greatest of care every fine feature of

The land around; forest in the most

Part but jollied up by a singing stream. 

There too my faithful Tulpar stood,

Aysilu, her soft eyes filled with a high 

Curiousity, her wings aquiver, slight.

We had spoke not yet a single word

And so it was I gestured that he should

Ride with the lad and I would lead.  He

Mounted with the ease of practice, boy

Held tight.  Aysilu would not take

Flight with any but me, and thus I

Walked and she, obedient, followed.

The Winged-One asked not where it was

We were going, satisfied, it seemed

To place their destiny in my hands.

So it was we trudged aside the cheery

Stream, twixt trees and shrub, bird

Call and the insect buzz accompanying

Us in the cooling sunlight.  The twins

Rose above the horizon, their gyre

Heralding the coming of dark, and I

Pressed on a little faster, desirous

Not to be out with my companions,

So vulnerable, when the Night Mares

Rose to dominate the hours ‘til dawn.

At last the clearing came in sight as I

Heard the first rustlings in the shadows,

And knowing us safe I turned and to

The Winged-One spake my first words.

“Welcome to my Fastness.  Here it is

That thou may in safety rest, tend to thy

Wounds and those of the lad.  Thou art

Under my protection and welcome.  My

Hearth and Hold are thine henceforth, if 

It please thee, ‘til such time as thou so

Wish to take thy leave, and that with

My assistance.”  He smiled his beatific

Smile which caressed my very soul

And with a voice more musical than

Ere music I had heard, and a bow of

The head he said just, “My thanks to

Thee and thine, and blessings be upon

Thee for your kindness.”  I nodded, a

Strange sense of being loved taking

Hold of me.  I turned, perplexed, and

Led Aysilu through the Great Doors

Opened by my Kinsmen, there guarding.

As they sealed behind us, safeguarding 

Our safety, slid he from the tulpar and

Now weary-weak, turned and passed

The lad to my care ere he dropped him.

“Thou hast within this, thy safe domain, 

Perchance, a pool, a pond or wide well?”  

I told him that indeed it was so and

Surmising his intent straightway took 

Him to the great bath house where the

Stream rose, refreshing each minute

The water therein.  He bade me then

To lay the lad in its embrace.  With

Caution I stepped then in, my kinsman

Jamet swiftly rescuing my long-gun,

Pistol and gutting knife from the rust.

As I lowered there the lad my eyes flew

Back and forth to the Winged-One.

He smiled again, again my soul rang.

“All will be well for him; fear not. 

He needs that which he is most used

To, so be it that his body can mend.”  

His countenance then took on a darker

Mien.  “As to his mind, we will know

Not until his body is restored, for his

Existence, over and again, be full of 

Suffering beyond thy imagining.”

As I held the lad, now full-submerged

His gills developed a deep rhythm and

His eyes flew open, confused then so

Terror filled I gasped.  The Winged-One

Took his view and he near straightway

Tranquil.  His eyes to me returned and

As they closed he smiled.  Bid then to

Release him, content was I that he was

Safe.  As I stepped forth to dry, Jamet

Passing me towel and robe, a howling

Cacophony assailed our ears and alarm

Took the Winged-Ones eyes.  “What 

Troubles thee?”  I asked.  His gold eyes 

Dropped once more to the lad. “The

Hell-Hounds have found us yet again.

I have been sadly inept in the covering

Of our trail.  They must not harm thee 

And thine.  I shall take the child and we 

Will look to luck and my dear Master.”  

I uncertain stared.  “I know not thy Hell-

Hounds but they are not welcome here if 

They disturb thee, or indeed us.  As to

Leaving, I think not.  They will not enter 

In.”  He shook his head sadly and went 

To fetch the lad from his sleep.  I held 

His arm and he turned, questioning. 

“What ere they be, the force-field will 

Not give access.”  Astonishment took

Him, almost comical it was to see. He

Turned straight to me.  “Thou sayest

‘Force field’?”  I nodded.  “Aye, t’is

A necessity to deter the Night Mares

And sad mutant folk.”  He relaxed, the

Burden he had borne in his heart flying

From his exhausted frame, and silently

I, to a nearby chamber led him where he

Could take his rest.  There he smiled

Once more and fell down upon the bed,

Insensible, it seemed before his fair head

Had the pillow warmed, and thus he

And the lad rested for two whole cycles.

……………………………………….... 

As my guests slept thus my Kinsmen 

And I prepared we our defences, and for 

Use of arms.  I thoughtful, ascended up 

The winding steps within the Hold’s 

Folly, as we had oft thought, the old high 

Tower, built by my great grandfather 

When he first settled Free with his small 

Brigade of men at arms and constructed 

With care, our Fastness, building at the 

First this fortification.  It was where I 

Wouldst most oft choose when reflective 

Thought held me in its thrall.  Now, I 

Needs must upon irony muse, for my 

Great grandfather had no folly built!

As I stepped out once more, seeing anew  

The High Tower’s battlemented parapet, 

Second Light had arisen and thus there 

Was, crystal clear, a view of those who, 

Menacing, stood surrounding the force 

Field and exterior walls of my ancient 

Keep.  Thus, also it was, I experienced

The ill-gifted and noxious odour, that of

Rotting flesh we warriors know so well.

‘Hell Hounds’ he had called them, the 

Winged-One.  Certes they were foul of 

Aspect, well matching their cloying and 

Most sickly stench.  Like hounds of no 

Type I had seen before; more wolves of 

An horrific sort, but larger by far.  Many 

Beyond the counting lay, lifeless by the 

Force field, oft piled several high, one 

Corpse lying upon foul remains of its 

Fellows.  A myriad others stood, now 

Silent, that being more disquieting than 

Their prior tumult.  More unsettling still 

Was the way their numbers grew on, no 

Matter the magnitude of dead, and more, 

Too, were prepared in droves to perish 

Thus against the flagging shield.  Even 

Spread they were now, around all the 

Fastness, organised and directed like no 

Wolves I had ever seen heretofore, on 

Free or any of the planets I battled upon. 

A team of our snipers, long guns slung at 

Their backs, came too from within the

High Tower.  They unslung and placed

Upon their weapons silencers and slid  

Over the sighting eye a sight-screen, that  

Which identified, though not obvious to 

The human eye, targets where their 

Leaders stood among that growing 

Horde, fed in real time analysis by the 

Hold’s Central Processors.   On mine 

Command the triggers were squeezed 

And wolves began to fall, the Kinsmen 

Rapidly retargeting on others amongst 

That most foul multitude.  Swift it was, 

The resultant chaos.  The weird silence 

And the organisation broke, with many 

Of the creatures turning on each other; 

Still more returned in haste to what poor 

Cover the forest offered.  As that select 

Few were removed, so the snipers turned 

To other, random targets, encouraging a 

Further flight and chaos.  As they fled 

Many would find a bullet’s embrace, not 

Surcease, as they fell to the long guns of 

Airborne Kinsmen who had, used their 

Tulsars, to fly high and just behind them. 

As I climbed down the steps to order  

Time for all to eat and take repose, 

I Knew we had not broken them, but it 

Gave us and the force field some respite.  

Would that the Mother-Ship were within 

Hailing, but no!  She was off out of the 

System for replenishment of materiel.  

Would, too, The Covenant allowed arms 

Stronger than the long gun upon the 

Planet Free but it was not so.  T’was not

A good situation we were facing, under 

Armed, under manned and under attack 

From this growing and repulsive throng.

…………………………………………..

I found them thus, with my dear kinsman 

Jamet, a platter and such by their sides, 

Well cleared as they sat, companionable

By the poolside.  The precious lad now 

Looked fine rested and well, talking as

He was, with animation.  Jamet smiled 

With tender affection, a fine warrior he,

But with a divinely spiritual heart and 

Soul also.  Whosoever he led would 

Follow him into the very entryway of the 

Oft rumoured Planet Perdition.  By his 

Side sat the Winged-One, his battered 

Wing somewhat straighter now.  He it 

Was who turned immediate and alert as I 

Entered.  Seeing no threat, he smiled the 

Smile that warmed the soul.  It fell away 

To a more grim countenance as he asked 

Concerning the Hell Hounds.  I told it 

True as was right and he o'er again said 

He leave must with the lad and take this 

Danger away from our hearth and home.  

I asked would his wings serve to hasten 

His safe departure but he showed that 

One was broke straight through!  As I 

Considered his control of pain he then 

Asked if he could borrow my Aysilu and 

It was my wretched task to explain that 

Though he rode upon her as we walked 

On, she was bonded to me alone, as all 

Our tulsars were so bonded, and they 

Would not carry off an outsider.  I then 

Clarified, “It is not hopeless, though 

Their pack appears to continue growing.  

How be that so, for they are none from 

Our Free?”  He frowned slight, and then 

Responded thus, “My friend, we are not 

Of this time or place.  In a situation most 

Dire, in clear desperation I slipped us 

From that world of water to the place 

Between the spheres, and here we came.  

My thought was that we would be free 

From the hunt a while, but it is not so 

And we have visited now a peril upon 

Thy fastness.  We needs must leave and 

Fall upon their foul Master’s unlikely 

Mercy.”  I told him straight he would not 

Leave for I had oath-sworn to safeguard 

Him and the lad.  I then came up short, 

My mind a jangle.  “What sayest thou?  

Their Master? Tell me of thus for it 

Paints a picture that’s altogether new!”

…………………………………….........

T’was fortuitous indeed we had whisper 

Packs aplenty with us, brought down to 

Service and to check their functionality.  

We could, certes, have our tulsars rode 

But their wings spanned right wide and 

Made the approach through the forest 

Filled with peril and noise.  So it was we 

Ten in this chosen squad used out packs 

And lay high above the wolves, awaiting 

The Winged-One’s step forth as bait, for 

He confident was their Master wouldst 

Come hither and crow at his capture.  

Were he wrong, demise would rapid be!

The Great Doors now opened.  Slow 

They were, to give the watchers time for 

Expectation, and then the Winged-One 

Stepped out, seemingly a body bag upon 

His back.  His voice pierced the silence. 

“Go, tell he who leads thee, I am come 

To, make parley, for the Anointed One 

Hath journeyed on to higher realms and I 

Needs must return him as proof and for 

Honourable committal.  After thy Master 

Hast, careful, inspected my sorry pack 

For actuality, I will be his for whatever 

Should please him, after my dread task is 

Undertaken and complete.  Make it so, 

And tarry ye not, for I, Christóforos The 

Carrier, have spoken with heavy heart.”

As he spoke I heard a noise so familiar 

And yet still it set my nerves on edge.  

I Kicked in the turbo on the whisper pack 

And plunged downward in desperation 

Snatching up tight the Winged-One just 

Before a plasma bolt splashed where he 

Had stood.  It appeared thus then, that 

The Hell Hound’s Master knew naught 

Of their interdiction absolute, or cared 

Less!  As I thus proceeded, my squad 

Plummeted to the weapon, only to see its 

Controller take a bizarre movement, a 

Half pace forward, half to each side, and 

Then disappear.  Their training was 

More than fortunate indeed, for they 

Their own turbos fired and safe skyward 

Fled, evading thus the shrapnel of the 

Plasma gun as it, with very great force, 

Exploded, killing then countless of the 

Noxious Hell-Hounds in the periphery.

……………………………………….. 

The Winged-One looked at me, right 

Stern.  “My thanks, of course, are most 

Profound, and to you I will forever be 

Indebted.  The Hell Hound’s Master is 

Most serious in wanting my demise.  I 

Underestimated have, the impatience  

And anger which must lie deep within.  

That, indeed, or his fear of his overseer.

I needs must ask, though, since thou 

Didst not thy tulpars use, as I had wrong  

Believed you would for this futile 

Operation, but used jet packs, why is it 

Thou didst not offer them to me and the 

Child so we safe could have left thy fine 

Hold?  Surely they not so precious are!”

I smiled grimly.  “Aye, it occurred to me

So to do, for a soft moment, and then it 

Was that I asked myself, where wouldst 

Thou safely go?  Whatever means thou 

Utilised to get from the precious lad’s 

World of water to here was obvious not 

In thy gift now or thou wouldst have 

Thus departed.  So it is thou wouldst  

Remain here on Free, with the odious 

Hell-Hounds as companions in the kind 

Light of day and Night Mares and sad 

Mutants in the hours of darkness.  Now, 

If the force field fails, and almost certes, 

Yeah it will, then with my finest of the 

Warriors thou wilt depart one way or 

Another whilst we here hold a rear-guard 

Action which will bring them little joy.  

The squad with thee will conceal and 

Protect thee as best they can and with a 

Touch of luck and the good God’s grace 

Thou wilt be taken to our Mother-Ship 

On her return from her procurement run.  

There thou wilt be safe and they shall 

Aid thee in completing thy journey, safe.   

It the best is I can think of.  What sayest 

Thou?  Speak not for thyself, nor for me, 

Speak for that which is more precious 

Than all in this fastness, if thou spake 

True, and I believest that thou didst so 

Do, and tell me that this is not the way!”

The Winged-One, Christóforos, bowed 

Low his head fleetingly and then those 

Eyes of gold upon me fell and I knew 

Absolute, the ultimate sense of being 

Loved ere I couldst recollect in all my 

Multitude of turns of my being.  There 

Was no more the need to discuss and he 

Accompanied me, with the lad and a 

Squad of 10 of my most wily fighters, up 

The Tower once more, where too their 

Whisper packs Lay.  We looked down 

Upon the wall of the dead beasts and 

Knew the force field would fail ere long.  

By the Great Doors stood my Kinsmen 

With makeshift explosives – acid and tar 

Grenades to use when the doors fell and 

The crush of the beasts became impaled 

Upon the stakes.  We expected thus to 

Hold them there for some time at least, a 

Bottle neck blocked by their own dead.  

As they strained to enter.  Too, warriors 

In whisper packs would rain death down 

Upon them as our non-combatants and 

Children fled into our tunnels and away. 

Other handmade forms of death awaited 

Also, within the keep, enough, certes, to 

Purchase, though the cost be high, the 

Time crucial for the safe departure of 

Christóforos, the most precious anointed 

One and our folk, to scatter across the 

Forests to the labyrinthine deep caverns.

As all on the tower excepting me, drew 

On their whisper packs, the end seemed 

To lie close by.  The force field flickered 

A warning as a plasma weapon fired yet 

Again from the forest, and the hounds 

Seemed to sense their time was nigh.  

My Kinsmen sensed it too, and then the 

Most remarkable thing ever took place!

The weapon ceased firing and full chaos 

Stalked triumphant through the attacking 

Horde!  It took some instants, tense they 

Were, I can thee assure, until whatever  

Was harrying the rear made disarray to 

Those foremost in the attack.  All upon 

The tower took up their long guns and 

Thus we poured death into the cruel 

Horde, turning half to go back while half 

Attempted forward to flee.  The force 

Field no longer red-lined and we saw 

Then what had troubled them so, and 

Were e’en now slaying cosmic numbers.  

There, coming from the woodlands were 

More Night Mares than I could count.  

Ridden, they were, by mutants of every 

Form and dimension, and there, walking 

Calmly amidst them through the turmoil 

Came the Winged-Ones, each exquisite 

Near, as the broken winged Christóforos.   

…………………………………………..

More than a century now has passed 

Since that testing time.  When the Hell 

Hounds broke and ran, disappearing 

Back with their Master from whence 

They came, our first task was welcome 

And, by God above, the most wondrous 

Thing, a solemn Compact agreed twixt 

Hold and Mutes and Night Mares.  No 

More at odds, we would henceforth aid 

Each other should there be some further 

Undesirable interlopers on Free. The 

Passage of time has told of its success.  

So too has it told of mine, for I have 

Aged not and my Kinsmen age most 

Slow.  Before those dear Winged-Ones 

Accompanied Christóforos and the holy 

Lad back ere he came from and where 

Lay his dread destiny, an amulet was 

Given to our Christóforos and in but 

Moments his wing was full restored and 

He returned, I later learned, to a form 

Almost immortal and indestructible.      

It was then as this host prepared to bid 

Farewell he came and embraced me and 

To me too gave an amulet.  I wear it still 

And know should I his assistance need, 

Christóforos will come and stand by my 

Side, as it was mine own honour so to 

Stand by his.  He swore, too, that in the 

Certain hour of my death he would come 

To me and escort me at the last to that 

Place beyond this life where both Love 

And Mystery dwell and are unending. 

Finally, though, an enigma for me still, 

There was the lad.  His name I learned 

As these many years have rolled by and 

Christóforos has returned to my life to 

Guide me and my brigade to do battle 

For his Master.  The lad’s name was 

Emmanuel and it was, I believe, his 

Gentle touch as he bade me farewell 

Which made my amulet guard my body, 

That ages not.  Christóforos, will not 

Say, merely smiling his loving smile.

He is dead now, the dear lad, this many 

Decades, it transpires, but he knew it 

Would ever be thus.  And, too, the lad is 

Alive again!  He is the eternal Traveller, 

Moving from realm to realm, crossing  

All of times and spaces, giving his life of 

Purity as a sacrifice and template for all 

Others who would see, to follow.  I but 

Poorly understand, though his guardian 

And so oft companion Christóforos has 

Occasional, made mention of his task, 

But I know this; there never was such a 

Person in my long life who so radiated 

Goodness as the lad Emmanuel and my 

Most enigmatic friend and occasional 

Companion Christóforos.  I still a simple 

Warrior am, and most blessed.  So be it!