Reflections of a Heroine

I

As the gamma radiation caused by the death throes of its twin suns flooded the sixth planet in the Zetar system, the last survivor of the calamity released her hold on life. The broken spirit of Ondina Rvaga, reluctant princess of the planet Zecor’s totalitarian western faction, rose from her ravaged body.

Ondina paused to kiss the cold forehead of the tall, slender, flaxen-haired elfin man who lay to her right side. She caressed the cheek of the small, wizened, dark-haired elfin man who lay in an eternal embrace with her discarded shell.

Ondina looked upon her own body with disdain and pity. Her father had often told her that she had rare beauty. The populace of Western Zecor praised her physical appearance as well.

Ondina felt that perceived physical beauty was a shallow quality. She supposed that the genetic material she inherited from her parents, who were both comely, made her pleasant enough to behold. Like others among Western Zecor’s ruling class, she was tall and slender. She had long brown hair with the slightest hints of red. Her eyes were emerald green, and, like her mother’s people, her complexion resembled the petals of snowflowers.

“The people of our realm love your face, fair like melting snow,” Ondina recalled her father admonishing her. “You owe it to them to join with your brother and give birth to an heir for our realm. Your union was written in the stars, Girl! He is the icy darkness of space and you are a bright star. How can you deny him this? How can you deny me—deny your people?”

Ondina’s father, King Giraq, was an intimidating figure. He was large, even for a member of Zecor’s ruling class. In adulthood, Ondina stood a little over six feet tall. Her brother, King Qweh, was eight feet tall, and Giraq was a head taller than his son. Qweh favored his mother, Giraq’s half-sister Nephyr, whose mother Efhka was of the dark-complexioned Wxzca line. Giraq’s father Taglep and his mother Qrztew were full-blood siblings from the fair Welryv line.

Qweh had once speculated that his children with Ondina would be colored like the night coming on just after the smallest sun had set. But now, because of the determined refusal of a girl who had seen just a dozen summers, there would be no heir born of half-siblings to continue the Pasaw line. The enraged Giraq towered over his daughter and the flush of rage on his fair cheeks made Ondina think of the rusty Afles Falls which flowed down Mount Tuydif, the highest peak in the arctic realm of Mdim, her mother’s homeland.

“An angry red gash appeared on the frost-covered face of the giant Tuydif as the brave heroine Ondina slashed him with her sword.”

The tale of the warrior princess Ondina had been her mother’s favorite legend and the inspiration behind Ondina’s name. Now the young princess was being challenged to live up to that mighty namesake, so despite her fear of her enraged sire, she set her resolve, refusing to grovel.

“I will neither wed nor bear children with a murderer,” Ondina declared. “I would rather die.”

“Your actions bring shame to the entire realm, faithless daughter,” King Giraq snarled. “Very well, so be it. I will grant your wish.”

II

Giraq’s thick fingers encircled his daughter’s neck. Ondina clawed at her father’s hands to no avail. She felt herself slipping away and gave thanks for the peace that awaited her in the afterlife.

“Your majesty, I implore you, cease this madness!”

The slender, flaxen-haired man whose body lay beside Ondina’s in eternal repose ran into the chamber and attempted to pry the king’s hands away from his daughter’s throat. Giraq shoved Ondina aside and turned to the interloper, backhanding him. The man’s body slammed against the wall with a thud, and he slumped to the floor. An angry red gash appeared on his cheek where the king’s ring, cast in the form of a firedrake with glowing ruby eyes, sliced through the skin.

A crone clad in dark robes depicting galaxies and nebulae adrift in eternity appeared in the doorway. Glowing green orbs shot from her hands, immobilizing the King. The ancient one strode up to the paralyzed monarch and looked directly into his eyes.

“I will allow you to move again, my liege, when you are able to behave rationally,” she said. “Your actions are borne of uncontrolled wrath and not worthy of a mature ruler.”

“Justice must be served, Madam Yadira,” Giraq protested.

“Is it justice for a giant of a man to crush the throat of a young girl less than half his size?” the crone demanded. “Just one of your hands near to encircles Ondina’s neck. She doesn’t stand a fighting chance. Is it good sport to slay an innocent lass simply because you are unhappy with her, pray tell?”

A scowling Prince Qweh strode into the room and Ondina trembled. She had adored her brother for as long as she could remember, but during the two months preceding her birthday had been awakened to the truth about his jealous nature and sadism. The golden eyes that once beheld her tenderly now glared at her with loathing.

Qweh was a perfect specimen of a man. He was chiseled and muscular with a complexion resembling dark slate. His hair flowed over his shoulders and down his back like a silken umber waterfall. That women young and old alike fell about him was understandable, for his physical beauty was peerless. Ondina, however, knew that her brother’s heart was rotten, his soul irredeemably corrupted. She had defied him, and she feared his rage.

III

“This impudent child must be punished, High Priestess,” Qweh insisted. “She has defied the laws of our realm.”

“She has defied your vanity, Prince,” the crone countered, turning to face Qweh. “She has injured your pride by refusing to become your wife. What does it say about you and your father that this small lass has managed to put you in such a state of rage? Is your ego so delicate that you become a hound foaming at the mouth over adolescent defiance?”

“What is it that you suggest we do, Madam Yadira?” King Giraq demanded. “Shall we allow this stripling to run roughshod over our authority?”

“I would say that you ought to behave as a civilized man rather than a raving maniac, Your Majesty,” Yadira stated plainly. “No-one has said that you should hand over the throne to her. However, the people’s hearts are soft where the Princess is concerned. Kill her, and you open the seething kettle of unrest that simmers beneath the surface of this troubled realm. Surely you and Qweh are aware that you are not entirely in the good graces of your subjects.”

“Very well, I will grant the disobedient wench a reprieve. Qweh will stand down as well.”

Yadira released Giraq. Ondina rose from the bed, smiling hopefully. There were tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Father,” she said.

Ondina cowered as Qweh’s great hand audibly struck her cheek.

“You speak only when spoken to, ungrateful Xbgmat spoor!” he spat. “You are no longer a member of this family. You are but a simpering whelp who has shamed the entire Western Zecor faction. To think I once loved and treasured you and looked forward to the day when I would take you as my bride. I would have cared for you, Ondina. I would have treated you tenderly when I made love to you. I am aware of how young and small you are. Oh, how sweet and innocent you seem. But behind those innocent eyes, you hide a wickedness of spirit. That you would deny our union not only to Father and me but to your adoring subjects…I had not wished to entertain such a thought, but I believe that the soul within you may be corrupted beyond redemption.”

With that, the King and the Prince strode from Ondina’s chamber.

Ondina sat shaking on the edge of the bed. She stroked the angry red handprint on her cheek. The tall blond man moved to comfort the princess, but the crone stopped him.

“Give me a moment to talk to the princess if you would, Xegran,” she requested.

“Of course, Madam Yadira,” the man replied, bowing. “If there is anything that either of you require…”

“I will be fine, Xegran,” Ondina said. “Come back and see me before bed. I may be a woman now, more’s the pity, but I still like to have my favorite nurse tuck me in.”

“I am, of course, her only nurse,” Xegran said with a wan smile. “I will leave you ladies to chat.”

IV

Yadira reached to touch the red mark on Ondina’s cheek, but Ondina shrugged the old woman’s hand away.

“I could heal it myself, Madam Yadira,” she said. “However, I want all who see me in the coming days to witness the brutality visited on me by my wicked brother.”

“Your healing abilities are indeed peerless,” the crone praised. “You were born with exemplary empathic and curative skills. Clearly, you also know how to use your gifts in reverse. You have enraged your family by scarring your reproductive organs. Such a drastic action, my girl.”

 “I was not going to take the chance of Qweh forcing himself on me and impregnating me against my will,” Ondina stated grimly. “I refuse to bear an heir for this accursed realm. I did quite a thorough job of things too. It would be difficult even for me to reverse the damage. If Qweh or Father kills me, so be it. At least I will have played no part in continuing the mad Pasaw line.”

“Since you can reverse the healing ability, why do you not use it against your father and brother?”

“Their sycophants greatly outnumber my sympathizers,” Ondina replied, sounding much older and wearier than any girl having seen but a dozen summers should. “They would stop me, and I would be dead or imprisoned. Madam Yadira, there have been many nights that I wished for my father’s death. I wished upon Riudj and upon Wupaz. I have wished on both suns as they rise in the morning and on each of the seven moons as they rise at night. I have prayed to Jowed and Ebmas and to each of the Gods and Goddesses on their feast days, but Qweh and my father remain alive. I know not why the Deities hate me when I love them so.”

“Young Ondina, I know that the Deities love you very much,” Yadira said as she gently took the girl’s hand. “I would like to give you a bit of advice that my father gave me as I entered my twelve hundredth year and my body began to change from that of a girl to that of a woman.”

“Was your father kind, Madam Yadira?”

“My father, Nyarlathotep, is the kindest and wisest of all the Outer Gods,” Yadira replied with a smile. “He has always been fervently devoted to me, and I to him. You see, on the day of my birth, my homeland of Zaïs fell to the demon invaders. I had been in the world mere moments when they broke through. My mother commanded my father to keep me safe, and so he ran through time portals and dimensions. He raised me with warmth and love. He is my dearest friend and his wisdom has saved me from much pain and heartache during my life. If you will allow me, I will now impart that wisdom to you.”

“Yes, I should like that.”

“Very well, then. On my twelve-hundredth birthday, my father said these very words to me.”

“My beloved Yadira, I advise you never to fall in love. Now that you are becoming a young woman, you may be stung by the dream whip of an amorous lad or lass hoping to entrap you with invitations to fluctuating follies, where your senses will be assailed by throbbing music, wild dancing, and the scent of exotic cuisines. Boils, bums, and a humming of drums have a way of sabotaging success if you allow them to seduce you. Should you go tripping through the tulips with the hopes of receiving spontaneous splatters of love and desire from an enticing master or miss, well, my dear, that’s the start of something stupid, not to put too fine a point on it. Love makes about as much sense as soup sandwiches. It may seem at the start to be as sweet as watermelon rose, but it will at best come to taste of mixed greens and marmalade. Love offers promise but no substance. It will melt like snow donuts on your tongue, leaving you longing while delivering nothing. Best you resolve to have but a single suitcase in the hall rather than winding up with a trunk full of conquered convictions.”

“Oh, Madam Yadira, your father is wise indeed, and his words are nearly melodic! I have seen a few boys who made my heart flutter a little, but I would not think to disrupt my life by doing something so foolish as falling in love with any of them. Nay, I believe it is my calling to give comfort and hope to my sad people. I am but one small and mostly useless girl. However, I possess the ability to heal or to release the soul peacefully where healing is not possible.”

“These gifts are far from useless, dear Princess Ondina,” Yadira declared. “Now, perhaps when it may best serve fate, you will find one with whom you resonate, and you will work together as a team. Until that time, do not be swayed by handsome faces flashing come-hither glances and fetching smiles. These rogues desire only one part of a woman, and, I assure you, that part is not her heart.”

Ondina laughed, as did Yadira.

“I believe my brother is such a rogue,” Ondina said conspiratorially.

“I know he is,” Yadira agreed.

“Then why do you work with him, Madam Yadira? You are kind and wise like your father. Why do you not smite my brother and my father, turn them into iplen, and place them beneath the suns to shrivel away?”

“My dear, you are young yet. The fires of ire burn hot within when you have been wronged. Your anger is justifiable, but it does not provide the necessary sensibility to construct a plan of true and lasting revenge. To achieve that end can sometimes take years. To work such magic, one must create a cold shell around her heart when interacting with those who inspire the fire of ire. It is as you say, my love. If one were to attack the king and prince directly, one would quickly be overcome by their guards. We have no strength in numbers here, but time is on our side. Will you work with me to bring both of our goals to fruition?”

“Yes, Madam Yadira!” Ondina agreed. “Oh, I did think that I was the most unfortunate girl in all the Cosmos today, but now I can see that perhaps I am chosen by the Gods and Goddesses to enact great things. Together I believe that we can accomplish anything. We will work hard each day, and in the evenings, you may teach me more of magic if you think it well to do so. You have an ally in me, Madam Yadira, and I promise to be unshakable in my resolve.”

Acknowledgments

Nyarlathotep is the creation of H.P. Lovecraft, initially appearing in his 1920 short story of the same name.

The Garden of Zaïs is the creation of H.P. Lovecraft. It appears in his 1927 poem “Nathicana.”

Zetar is the creation of Shari Lewis and Jeremy Tarcher. It is mentioned in the 1969 Star Trek episode “The Lights of Zetar.” Star Trek is the creation of Gene Roddenberry.