Author's Note: Here's a quick fantasy story I spun up recently. It vaguely relates to the theme of this blog as it has to do with an alien race colonizing a planet.
I heard the Stelios approach before I saw them, although the slimey Racing Snails they rode were silent. They came when I was inspecting my algae. I was hunched over my pond, squinting at the surface on which the valuable crop, the staple of my people grew. It was ridiculous that I, Belobog, Prince of Phets had to do the work of farmers. I tried to concentrate on figuring out why the small garden patch wasn’t yielding as much as it should. At the same time, I swivelled one of my pointy ears towards the sound of the approach. It was then that the Stelios started stirring up such a ruckus with conches and drums that my sensitive ears with their furry lining like green velvet started ringing. I was so shocked that I fell into the pond and barely made it in time to a nearby cluster of reeds when the snail riders arrived. They wouldn't have hesitated in killing the heir to the Phet throne if they saw me.
"Hear ye, hear ye! This royal proclamation is to announce that his majesty the merciful King Gibbous of the Stelios has revised his policy regarding the native inhabitants of the planet of Phetnoct." I scowled as one of the trumpeters read from a scroll, for he had mentioned the invader Gibbous, the slayer of my father, King Dazbog. But my interest was piqued at the mention of my noble race and I listened on to hear whatever Gibbous had to say about us Phets. "We know that there are still Phets in hiding, and while we noble Stelios are far superior to you swamp-spawn, consider yourselves sheltered by the king's mercy." It took all of my self-control not to spring out and bellow in rage. These invaders had abused my father's hospitality from the moment they landed on Phetnoct in their starships. They took advantage of our tribal generosity and were now ruling over our beloved land of pallid yellows and mottled greens as if it were theirs. “You are spared if you aren’t a mage or the coward Prince Belobog.” The statement continued, confirming what I had feared, that there was a hunt for my head. “Tonight we will burn all spellbooks written by the mages so that no Phets can ever learn the dark arts again.” Here the announcer held up a bulky, overflowing sack brimming with books. He turned and mounted his Racing Snail. I watched him as he was about to ride swiftly away when one of his companions spoke to him in a gentle voice.
“Thank you for letting me tour the kingdom with you! I really want to impress my fiancé with knowledge of Phetnoct’s geography.”
“We shall always protect you on your adventures, Princess Ostara.” The king’s men replied.
My heart skipped a beat, for then I beheld her. She was a creature of such beauty that I almost forgot she was of a vile people and the daughter of my most hated enemy. As an attendant helped her mount her monstrous snail, I was able to observe all of Ostara’s features. She had long hair like spun gold and sky-blue eyes. A silver circlet rested daintily on her head, inlaid with amethyst and rose quartz. Her small lips were pressed together in a serious, determined spirit. Her Racing Snail darted away, squirming through the wetlands with a wicked speed.
I suddenly recalled my days as a young Phetling when I would sit on King Dazbog’s knee and listen to him lecture me about ancient Phet traditions in his booming, thundering voice. “Belobog, my son, do you know what the law of the land is when it comes to murder?” He had a twinkle in his bright, yellow eyes with their pupils like slits. “It is that the family of the perpetrator must give up someone of equal value to the victim’s folk as a sort of blood-price.” I found this law to be wise, for it guaranteed that the farmers would get a replacement helper for their algae crops.
I started to wriggle out of my hiding place and wade to shore. My thoughts were interrupted when something hit my foot lightly. “Oh, what’s this?” I asked. I bent over to pick up some kind of bewildering manuscript that had been floating in the pond. Flipping through its pages of flowing Phetian script, it dawned on me that this was a verboten book of magic. Some clumsy Stelio must have dropped it here. There would be one less stack of pages for their bonfire. My father had many mages to serve him and I made a mental note to preserve this book and see if I could dry some of its drenched pages. I retreated further into the wetland to avoid running into Stelios again. “That was a close call.” I muttered. Yes, such was my condition! In that state of desolation the cruel Stelio overlords made me feel like an outcast on my own planet. But then somehow flipping through the book gave me an idea as I came across a spell that could save the Phet race.
Laying my eyes on Ostara had reminded me of all that her people had taken from me. My own wife died in my arms after being struck by a Stellion arrow. My father had been executed publicly.
The Stelios assumed that some Phets must have retreated into the wetlands and survived. The truth was that I was sure I was the last Phet. I growled in anger and struck a moss-covered tree when I remembered how the proclamation had called me a coward.
The spell book inspired me. Each day I resolved to wake up early and practice from it. Most of the spells were related to growth and healing, which helped keep me from starving as my algae flourished.
One day I finally felt ready to travel to the Stelios capital with magic as my shield. I readied my own Racing Snail and donned a black, hooded cloak as a disguise and sped off. When I arrived at Gibbous’ castle I saw that it was very elaborately decorated as if for a celebration. A large crowd of Stelios was gathered outside. I parked my Racing Snail and viewed the merriment from a distance, careful to keep my head down. “Princess Ostara is getting married to the brave knight Jupiter today! How lucky we are to be invited to this wedding by the generous King Gibbous!” The Stelios cheered. They were all nobility with long, trailing dresses and robes covered in patterns of stars. Gibbous had laid out tables in the castle orchards for a feast, but I wasn’t tempted by the smell of any of the dishes. There were no sheets of sweet moss-covered bark and no steamed lily pads.
I focused on the task at hand, which was to find a way to get into the castle. I was using a winding path through the orchards which seemed to be one that wasn’t frequently used. I could hardly believe my luck when suddenly I encountered a Stelio in my way. It was an old, disgruntled man who had pushed his way through the crowd. “Move, you people! I have to deliver medicines to the king.” And the people parted for him, for healers are held in very high esteem among both the Phets and Stelios. Soon he was with me on the secluded garden trail which winded between the trees.
I quickly improvised. “Ah, good day. I see you are interested in the medicinal properties of plants, as am I. My name is Mars Stellan.” I tried to allure the healer into a conversation by bringing up a topic of his field to him, and quickly thought of the most generic Stelion name I could.
The healer squinted at me “are you that apprentice that the king wants me to take in?”
“Why yes, sir. I am.” This totally distracted the healer from his job as he chuckled and went into a long speech about medicinal plants and about how he’d always longed for an apprentice to pass on his knowledge to. I wasn’t impressed at all, for the Stelios are rather primitive when it comes to medicine, and my spell book taught me more than what this healer knew. I looked around and realized that we were secluded. I began to exert my force into a growth spell that would trap the healer. The trees and plants around him began to rapidly extend their roots and branches and soon tangled him in a mess. His screams were stifled and he was quickly suffocated. Before he died, I revealed my face to him and he let out a startled squeak. I gathered his clothes and his basket of medicines so that I could pose as him. It was still fine for me to wear my cloak, for it is the tradition for healers to go about looking mysterious and strange. It was just their style. Then I slipped inside the castle easily, for the guards at the back gate were all heavily intoxicated by something they drank at the wedding feast.
I pushed my way through an ensemble of court musicians and found Ostara’s dressing chamber. Her servants were brushing her long, golden hair and getting her makeup ready. She saw my figure in the mirror and waved away the servants.
“Luno, my loyal healer! Finally you have come to bless me on my wedding night. My father said you can leave the medicines with me until-”
She was confused when I shut the door, but still not frightened.
“Is something wrong? Is my love Jupiter alright?”
I lunged to seize her and pressed my dagger against her throat. She dared not scream, for she was now paralyzed by fear. Ostara glanced toward the mirror and her eyes widened in horror as she saw me shake off my hood and reveal my twitching ears, my piercing yellow eyes that stuck out from my green fur, and my jutting snout.
“Everything will be alright if you cooperate, Ostara.”
“You will die, Belobog. Jupiter and my father will slay you.” She threatened through her gritted teeth.
“I no longer fear death. Now, Ostara, I will spare your life if you agree to flee with me from this castle and abandon your family. I want to hear no talk of Gibbous or Jupiter. From now on, you are to live as my wife.”
“Never!” She spat and tried to bite me, but I dug the blade deeper into her neck and she stopped resisting when a few drops of her blood started trickling down. She was now wincing in pain, but she managed to choke out a few words. “You are a dirty Phet, and I am a noble Stelio. Such a fate could never be.”
“Why not? We’re both royalty, aren’t we?” I asked, amused. “Unlike your Jupiter, who I’ve heard is a warrior.”
“But my people are the Children of the Stars, that’s what the word ‘Stelios’ means.”
I scoffed at that. “You Stelios are amazing at painting yourselves as the victims when all you do is plunder and oppress the people of other planets. Children of the Stars? Do not think I am ignorant about your real origin story. You are not a race of romantic wanderers. You had a home once, a native planet, and you were so evil and cruel that you were cast off that planet by the other members of your species who inhabited it.”
“I don’t know where you got these lies from.” Ostara shuddered. “Anyway, I refuse to accept your terms. You are a Phet, and I am a Stelio. You are ugly-”
“And you are beautiful.” I finished for her, and nodded my head in agreement. “This is an obstacle, I agree. But this challenge is not insurmountable. I know a way to make sure it won’t interfere with our union.”
She stared at our reflections in the mirror in front of us and seemed to be deep in thought, desperately plotting how she would escape from this situation. The average Phet is much stronger than a Stelio, and there was no way she was getting out of my grasp. I began muttering the incantation I had memorized from the spellbook, the only spell that didn’t have to do with plants. It was the spell that would save the Phet race. I watched as Ostara’s eyes glazed over with tears. She desperately wanted to scream when she saw what was happening, but knew she couldn’t. Her golden hair shortened and turned green, and she started shrinking and morphing more and more into the shape of a Phet. “Now your vanity won’t interfere in my plan, because you will bare me many Phetlings and help me repopulate my race. Don’t try to run around for help. Gibbous’ men will see you as a trespassing Phet and kill you.” Tears streamed out of her now lime-coloured eyes and she lowered her ears in despair. I opened the window of the dressing chamber and prepared to jump out. I reached out my hand to her, and she took it in an act of hopeless surrender.
“Come with me, princess. Now I am all you have.”
END
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