The Battle of Ashers Farm Page 4

snarling guru was on her, and Violet lost her head. Truly, lost her head. Joannie then turned towards the alien, which was still sending out images of the writhing monster, and where Marco still struggled to get his swords free from the dead goat, having failed to penetrate through to the alien inside.

  As Joannie raised her sword, Denny arrived and yelled at her, “NO. Don’t make it bleed.” Joannie turned, and as she lowered her blade, Denny grabbed at it.

  “Bloody hells girl, what you done that for?”

  As the blood welled up in Denny’s clenched fist, she raised her hand, moved it over the hilt of her ‘magic sword’ and closed her eyes. Her blood dripped into the hilt’s receiver, and a red molecule blade like Caren’s steadily grew in length as the bio sword activated itself. Caren’s scalpel was solar powered and blue, but Denny’s was the product of life on a sunless world, and would later became known as the vampire sword.

  She stepped forward and casually brought the blade down through the ancient alien, which fell cleanly and bloodlessly in two, and as the projected image of the monster snapped out of existence, the sword drew the alien mind into hers and she forced it behind the same door where Jan had been. She’d had Jan in her mind for five dreadful days, but the alien was going to be there for a lifetime.

  The Dark Angel now knew her own future. She sat on the bloody grass and wept.

  A legend is born

  At the instant that the imaginary monster vanished, all the dogs had eyes for was Marco, who had finally wrenched his twin blades free of the unfortunate goat. He was standing over the body of the alien bio mech, with blood dripping from both of his swords.

  One sniff of the noonday air was enough to tell them the truth about whose blood it was, but the dogs were philosophical about it all and didn’t want to ruin a good story.

  While the amazons rescued the fallen goatherd and Denny, and put everyone out of their misery, by making the priestesses and their trumpets part company, the wardogs bounded up and danced around the alien and Marco, waving their swords and singing his praises. It was in Dog Speak, not Spanglish, and their discordant howling could be heard the length of the valley. The scattered remnants of the fleeing armies ran that little bit faster.

  Around lonely camp fires on long nights, the tale of Marco, son of Firestorm and his blind virgin queen Tanya the Goat, would grow a little with every retelling, and then, those who were actually there would sometimes get confused, scratch their heads and say, “did it really happen that way?”

  Thankyou for getting this far, and I

  hope it was not too painful for you

  This short story forms a small part of

  'The Cycle of Life' part 1

  'The rise and fall of Tanya Vine'

  Coming next :

  part 2 'The Sali Vorden Affair'