Valistia and the Jewels of Paradise

Written by Josiah Yarbrough

  Amid the minerals, biology bloomed. Through the lush tropical forest, shafts of Amethysts jutted skywards. Dodecahedrons of Citrine, half-buried, rose above the canopy of vegetation. And raw pyramids of tourmaline formed foundations for daring trees with ropy roots. Gold beaches marginalized the verdant rainforests and plains from the warm, yet icy blue seas, and butterscotch clouds spanned the turquoise sky. This paradisaical planet of Blystaura was the pillow on which lay the most equable and innovative society in the entire known universe.

  Lapidarius, the Master Craftsman, was wise; there was nothing he could not do. Out of the goodness of his heart, he created this Elysium for all who dared to break out of their ruts of life and integrate into it. It was free to all because it was his to give. The multitudes that lived there were fondly referred to as the Kaleidoscope People, for there was no one race, species, or tribe that dominated the others. Red-skinned Dominraras dined with lanky Folodineos, while hairy Sut-Gongs played sports with hairless Vupheunti and bulbous-nosed Guphreinas. Small people lived alongside the tall and the squat alike. The blue-skinned and the gray-handed worked among the chartreuse-haired and orange-eyed. The more the merrier was the spirit of Blystaura.

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  A certain Pindeltheo, hairless humanoids with fuchsia skin and a cranium that is pointed and striated like an almond, not to be confused with the stockier Pindeltheo cousins that had xanthic complexions, sat on a smooth stone beside a crystalline waterfall and pool. She would sit there for long hours, sometimes gazing at the little fishes that performed irregular ballets or through the water’s reflection to the dark canopy that shielded the glen from the amber sun. Her large and deep purple eyes would look for the smallest details, like the color of moss on the waterfall-soaked rocks or a cricket singing on a fern, or sometimes she’d take in the environment as a whole painting. She was Valistia. She was a poetess, and this was her sequestered pool of inspiration. She sighed. It was beautiful as always, but nothing out of the ordinary struck her. Slithering snails were not conjuring songs of peace, and the racing skylarks brought not verses of adventure.

  “Maybe the colorful coasts will kindle the complementary composition that I crave.”

  She placed her pens and journal into her leather satchel and rose to her feet. The breeze washed around her as she emerged through the wall of banana and monstera leaves and unleashed her sky-sailboard from a zircon prism. With a gentle shove, the board hovered over the sand. She leaped on, seized the boom, and rode the inertia out across the surf until the wind filled the sail. The waves chopped and misted her as she swerved past fishing boats and seafarers. Pressing her heel into the tail and tilting the board, she rode up and over the palms and blue jacarandas.

  “Hey, Valistia! Where are you headed?” Asked a ruddy Dominrara.

  “To the desert, I go!” She cried over the wind. “Home of the sand verbena and flowering cactus.”

  The lush forest faded to grassy pastures, then turned arid as the desert loomed into view. Red sandstone gave way to dull gray sand and brown-wilted shrubs. She flared out the tail of the board and drifted to a stop at the vast desert's edge. The cacti drooped like octopuses washed up on shore.

  “What has happened? Where are the cactus, the marigold, and the brittlebush?”

  She sat on the edge of her board and dropped to the ground, her ankle boots sinking into the hot sand. There was a foul odor in the still air, and even the sandstone was beginning to lose color and disintegrate. Her jaw dropped in shock, as well as for want of breath in the oppressive heat. Climbing back onto her board, she regained her balance and braced for acceleration, but went nowhere. The breeze had absolutely vanished.

  She took the board by the stern and pushed it from the desert. The chrome of the cargo compartment on the tail was burning hot from the amber sun. Sweat beaded up on her head and arms and soaked her white gossamer tunic.

  “I just need to return to the green country; to the winds.” But the farther she retreated, the grayer the landscape became.

  The amber sun also began to waver in its intensity. A whisper of a breeze tugged at the sail, and she jumped on, praying for more. The breath turned to a chilly gust and drove her back into the grassy lands and jungles. She was shaken by the abnormal sight and sailed back to her pool to rest, to cool down, and ponder what it could mean. Anchoring her board back to the zircon prism, she pushed through the trees. The waterfall had dried, and the pool was green and stagnant. The palms and broad-leafing trees hung like wilted lettuce. Her purple eyes stared in disbelief as the moss dried out and fell from the stones, and the fish went belly up. She left her board in the glen and dashed back out to the muggy beach. Her tether fell as the zircon crumbled, but it mattered not since there was no breeze to carry her sailboard astray.

  “I must go to the Oracle of the Stars. Surely, he knows what is happening.”

  By now, the devastation had spread throughout Blystaura, and all were aghast. A long-legged Folodineo leaped out of his boat and waded through the still waters back to the beach. A bald Vupheunt cried for help as the wind had ceased, and she was now stranded in the middle of the air on her sailboard. A short and yellow Pindeltheo wept as the priceless roses he was tending withered under his trowel. Even the animals languished and perished.

  The air was cooling rapidly, but the pulsing sun intermittently scorched Valistia as she jogged along the exposed beach. She longed for shade but dared not seek the shelter of the woods for the deteriorating trees thundered as their trunks smote the ground. She came to her house and beheld her colorful gardens and once beautiful landscaping. Now all was gray and brown. The geodesic canopy of her ovate Sky Voyager hissed as it swung upwards.

  She climbed in and powered it up. In a moment, she was zipping through the air and dodging other crafts while rising higher and higher. She saw the poor Vupheunt still clinging to the boom of her sail, but her objective was too important to stop.

  “Who are you, Pointy and Pink, that you should forsake a friend in need? Your mission so grave, you think, supplants the laws of kindness decreed?”

  At the chastisement of her heart, she turned her pod around and towed the stranded sailor to the chaos on the ground, before ascending to the Oracle of the Stars.

  Floating high above the landscape, a palace made of precious, colorful stones. She landed on one of the many pads, like coleus leaves made of glass, which extended out all around the circumference. She was always awestruck at the grandeur of the pearl colonnades that formed corridors in the palace. She went across the great open court, greeting people as she passed them. The diamond cupola cast rainbows across the white marble floors, which dazzled her eyes. Up a winding flight of stairs and into the massive astronomer’s study, she found the Oracle of the Stars poring over some tattered, loose manuscripts.

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  “My lord, do you not know what great evil afflicts the land below? That which was green and lush is gray and wilted. All has been rendered to dust!”

  He gently replaced the papers into the torn binding before turning. His build was that of a giant, except that he was only a head taller than Valistia. His shoulders were very broad, his beard fell to his knees, and his eyes were deep-set under thick and stormy eyebrows. He wore a long, blue robe with embroidered golden stars and ancient writing along the hems. Underneath, he wore a multilayered brown tunic and a large belt that girded his waist and caused him to look even stockier.

  “That is a natural… consequence.” His deep voice echoed. “You cannot put fire to straw and expect it not to burn, can you?”

  “No.”

  She followed him over to a large oaken desk that was positioned between floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “Then why do you suppose that this world should persist when the source of its life has been removed?”

  “The Jewels of Paradise? Where are they?”

  “I prefer the nomenclature, the Gems of…. Lapidarius. For they were crafted by him and to him you owe your bounty.”

  “But great one, where are the Jewels?”

  “I cannot say, for I do not possess the knowledge. But you may find them if you wish. Such abundant sources of vitality cannot be… hidden.”

  The joints of the large, high-backed chair squeaked as he lowered himself into it and opened a thick volume.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  She turned to leave. Crinkling pages was his only reply.

  “Wickedness compounded is a deep and powerful snare. Evil was done to Blystaura. See to it that you do no evil to others.”

  She nodded and left the vast rooms and corridors to return to her Sky Voyager.

  “Where have the stones gone? Where has life swiftly appeared? Nowhere on this planet.” Her Haiku should have brought a smile to her face, but joy and rest seemed to have been missing along with the Jewels.

  She revived the craft and tried not to look at the bleached planet below.

  “How could the Jewels, so heavy as they are, rise from the the planet? Unless they were stolen.”

  Tugging back on the controls, the pod tilted upward, then she kicked in the afterburner. The colorless atmosphere began to fade into starry night. The flickering amber sun pierced the canopy.

  “Who would- my, that is bright! want to steal the Jewels, when all can freely enjoy them if they only integrate here…” She raised her hand to shade her eyes.

  “The Mohgulau! Those rage-replete rats. Ever have they coveted our paradise, while their own culture destroys what little good they possess. If they are not the culprits, then my hat shall be my repast!”

  She blasted around to the dark side of Blystaura and slipped away into the shrouded space behind it. For well over three hours, all was silent, save her breath and the occasional blast from the correctional thrusters. She saw the first glimmer of light in the distance, the blue star around which Mohgulari orbited.

  Giving the fierce, small star a wide berth, she fast approached a shining, celestial body. According to her charts, it was the barren dwarf planet, Sharath. Or were her charts wrong? Was she even in the right system?

  The planet was blue with an ocean for a surface. She decelerated and plunged into the thick, vivacious atmosphere. Down below, she found great waves churning and stirring the surface. But her navicomp said she was beyond a doubt on Sharath, and detected a powerful source of energy somewhere below her. Valistia retrieved her flippers from the back of the cockpit and then shimmied into her diving suit. There was only one direction from here: Down!

  The ocean's currents were strong and the water cold. It buffeted her to and fro, up and violently down again. The natural point of her skull made it easier for her to pierce the tide. She kicked and flipped with her ankles, slowly descending, slowly overcoming the head-on surge. Suddenly, she beheld a great city, though small, perhaps chipmunk-sized. A few of the little beings, wearing strange suits, swam out from the domes. They made friendly hand-signs and motioned vehemently, but she could not understand them. Others were outside of the domes harvesting the bountiful flora of the sea floor.

  At last, her purple eyes fell on something like a hydrothermal vent, which took her breath away. Beyond the city, carelessly half-buried in the silt, a trilliant-cut gemstone, large and deep blue. One of the Jewels of Paradise! She wrested it free and held tight, feeling the wash of cold water emanating from the stone. The upper half of the stone gushed air surface-ward, but from the lower half came water. Coral began to collect and grow on the back of her hands, arms, and other areas shielded from the current.

  Clutching it tightly, she pushed her way back up and broke through the surface. She held it aloft and watched the water gush from it as if it were a water hose from a different dimension. But the longer she held it, the elemental surges lessened and finally ceased altogether. She stared in amazement as the star’s light refracted through it with blue brilliance. Climbing into her Sky Voyager, she set off to collect the rest of the Jewels.

  Mohgulari, the home of the Mohgulau, was ahead; she did not look back. In not looking back, she did not see. What she did not see would have broken her heart.

  Tales of the Mohgulau’s star system being a decaying environment must have been wholly fiction. Their sun was not a collapsing neutron star, having blasted its crust into space. It was blue, beautiful, and powerful. Sharath was not an atmosphereless desert planet, and Mohgulari was a green marble from her perspective. There were no oceans to be seen, just forests, grasslands, and some deserts. Her wonder turned to resolve. This sudden snap from death to abundant life only concluded the Mohgulau’s guilt.

  She orbited once, then dove into the atmosphere to scout further. Sprawling, industrial cities made of dark materials were overgrown with vegetation. Forests grew over the scars of open-pit mines. Lands that had been stripped of vitality by greedy farming were lush with grasses and crops. Birds flew. Deer played in the woods. Cattle grazed in pastures. But there were no clean rivers or lakes, and the air was still foul and sooty. It looked as though someone had painted a lovely scene over a dark and dismal canvas. She wrapped the blue Trilliant up in her diving suit and buried it in the back of the pod before leaving.

  A gathering crowd of Mohgulau eyed her suspiciously. Their cubic heads bore angular, dour faces. The gray hair on their flat scalps grew like crab grass and stuck out in lateral directions. They were short, about two-thirds her height, and could easily have been the inspiration for totem pole carvings.

  “What brings to Mohgulari, a pin-head?” Asked one in maroon robes and a cast-iron, livery collar.

  She let the insult slide. “I wish to negotiate with your Reeklyndau.”

  “There, so high, in the Tower of Mohreeki. Meet, you may, with our leaders. Receive, you will not, a satisfactory conclusion.” He smiled and pointed a thick finger at a tall tower of ivy-covered iron.

  He turned and led the way. The crowd of square-lings followed jeering Valistia under their breaths to one another. The blue dot of a sun cast a blue hue over everything. Labyrinthine passage snaked through the massive, ashen brick and the ruddy, iron structures.

  She was appalled at the Mohgulau as they cursed and chopped the vines and saplings as they grew through the streets and walls of their houses. Others splashed deadly liquids around to keep the greenery at bay.

  Their cities were grotesque, but they reflected the state of their hearts. They brought all this upon themselves. They abused and despoiled this planet until it could no longer support life, then stole the Jewels of Paradise for quick regeneration. And the Jewels were obviously at the center of this because everything grew exponentially until an equilibrium could be achieved. If the planet had not been so wasted to begin with, the Jewels would not have acted so powerfully. She by no means worshiped the existence of the flora and fauna; Nature was something to be managed and cultivated, not abused. What the Mohgulau were doing was akin to spoiling and allowing a child to run amok and then beating it for its disobedience once it was grown.

  Large doors of steel lattice folded like origami to open the passage into the Tower. The halls were grand in a Gothic manner. Bigger-than-life portraits of previous Reeklyndau hung from the ceilings. They entered the broad elevator, which skyrocketed. The stumpy Mohgulau, with their low centers of gravity, were unaffected, but Valistia, who was gangly in their opinion, had to cling to the walls for balance. As it came to an abrupt stop, she left the floor for a moment before bruising her posterior on the hard floor. Apparently, it was a sort of competition between them, as most others bent their knees and took the impact smoothly, but two others toppled down with Valistia. They laughed at each other and ambled onward into the grim, great hall.

  Several Mohgulau in pompous array were seated in grand iron thrones. Faces and figures were carved into the high-backed chairs.

  “Your plight, explain as briefly as possible, what it is.” Said one reclined with one ankle resting on the other knee.

  “As you wish,” She cleared her throat. “You’ve presumed a right that is not yours, absconding with our Jewels. I will have them now, oh, stony dwarfs, it is time you heed the rules.”

  “For the stage, your rhymes do save, pointy-poetess.” He waved a hand.

  “What a wild accusation! Possession of the Jewels, you must prove, we have.” Said another with a bitter laugh.

  She knelt and plucked up a small sapling which had been growing bit by bit through a crack in the floor, and held it aloft. “Mohgulari is in the throes of death. How do you account for this sudden bloom? This burst of tender life?”

  “Produced, we have, regenerative technologies.”

  “I wish to see this wonderful innovation.”

  “Why? Are not enough, the Jewels of Paradise, for you, that our technologies, also, you must inspect and covet? The most beautiful to be is ever the desire of Blystaura. Even to the suffering of others.”

  By way of agreement, the others slapped their kneecaps with their palms in one succinct motion.

  “From our presence, leave, you must.” Barked another as his fist thundered on the arm of his chair.

  “Everyone will know of your treachery, if they do not already,” Valistia said with her head held high, then returned to the elevator.

  She fell into her pilot seat and closed the geodesic canopy.

  “The power of the Jewels is not to be hidden. They will be as obvious as the sun at midday.”

  She took off, beginning her search low over the surface. Overgrown valleys zipped underneath. And she steered over forested mountains. Desert sands spilled out between ranges like glaciers. Nowhere seemed to have more or less than the rest, except for the southern hemisphere, which still looked a little stark.

  “I’m too close!” She realized at last. “I must see the entire painting, and not lose myself in the pigments.”

  From the edge of space, it all became clear. Canyons that scarred the surface had jungles spilling down into them like green rivers. Vegetation raced southward and fresh mountain ranges formed streaks on Mohgulari like a watermelon rind. Even the light reflected strangely through the atmosphere. Flying northward, between the thick clouds, she spied the origin. Everything was spiraling away from the one location in the northern hemisphere. A place nearly a hundred miles from the Tower of Mohreeki.

  At the center of the spiral of mountains, desert sand flows, and snaking jungles, stood a giant inverted cone. From this upside-down traffic cone, protruded six silos with tapered bottoms. It revolved in a slow collective dervish. From one silo, land and plants flowed down like frosting onto a cake. From another, all sorts of avians and sea creatures spawned, though there was no water to receive them. Also, land animals came from the third. Light and shadow emanated from the top of one silo, and something like a star burst from the next and shot into the heavens.

  “No wonder this place was being terraformed too quickly and the trees are taking over,” She said. “That machine is practically juicing the Jewels of their abundance.”

  Her purple eyes caught on the last silo that appeared to be doing nothing. Just turning and turning like a ballerina in a music box. As she drew near, her anxiety over the Jewels fled, and she felt relaxed. Suddenly, she saw Mohgulau standing on the catwalks atop the great spinning cone and silos, armed and angrily waving her off.

  The Sky Voyager responded to her prompting the controls and swerved away from the floating structures.

  “How can I get the Jewels without getting a few bullets as well? Hmm… six spinning silos. Because they never obtained the seventh.” She sat down on a mountain top and climbed into the back. She unwrapped her diving suit and exposed the gleaming, blue trilliant.

  “Maybe this will be the key.”

  She popped open the canopy and placed the Jewel on the ground. It lay there for a moment, just looking beautiful. Suddenly, water began to trickle from underneath, then it became a stream, and then a river. Wind soared from it and swirled around her pod. Fresh air filled her nostrils, displacing the odors of the atmosphere.

  She realized that the mountain peak she had landed on had already moved several miles south, like a slow slithering snake, and the river that was spilling down both sides of the range was forming lakes and, to her surprise, some landslides.

  Alarms sounded down in the cities as water began to slowly rise. The Mohgulau, though hostile, had never taken violent action against the people of Blystaura. But what would they do to her if they caught her? And should her plot succeed, what retribution would she incur on her planet?

  The spinning machine bellowed loud sirens in reply and gradually stopped turning as two shuttles departed from it and descended into the valley. She jumped back into her pod and raced out to the Jewel machine and landed upon the flat top of the center inverted-cone. The wind gusting from the blue gem whipped at her clothes and tried to knock her off balance.

  The catwalks leading outward to each of the separate silos were long and narrow with thin rails on either side. She came to the round top and slid open the access hatch. Light and shadow flashed out of the hole as if a lightning storm was encapsulated within. A smaller walkway led deeper in. Lights kicked on as she entered and illuminated the cradle that held a pure crystalline jewel, a diamond, cut in the fashion of a Holland Rose. Brilliant light burst from it, followed by inky waves of darkness.

  She took the stone in her hands. It was cold and head-sized. After a moment, the light and darkness ebbed until it was just a diamond. She heaved it out to her pod and laid it in the back of her pod, then went to the next silo. Her palms were moist from the sheer height of the machine and the fear of dropping one of the Jewels. This silo was just like the last except that it held a royal-cut amethyst. Little lights like the cosmos swirled around inside the deep cylinder. Colorful nebular gases and shadowy dusts emanated from it, painting indistinct pictures of vivid color and composition. Again, as she lifted the Jewel from its cradle, the cosmic beauty ceased.

  She cast a wary eye toward the valley, fearing a fleet of interceptors. The next silo held a pentagon-cut, yellow spinel, from which came the sea creatures, birds, pterosaurs, and more. After that was a tapered baguette garnet, fiery orange like the setting sun. Then a green emerald cut in typical fashion, from which land, mountains, and deserts flowed. At the sixth and final silo, the one from which nothing came, when she opened the access, nothing happened; no light nor stars. No bird nor bat. Nothing but a cushion-cut ruby, gorgeous, gleaming, and blood red. As it rested in her hands, she felt anxiety pounce on her like a panther, and her sense of peace, fleeing like a bird. What was this stone?

  She trembled as she dashed back to her Sky Voyager and took off. The trilliant Sapphire was still gushing water and air on the mountain that was now many miles away. She stopped only long enough to retrieve it and to allow for the jewel to cease its miraculous output. Even as she stood there drying the Jewel on her over loose tonic, the mountains began to crumble under her. All seven stones were in her possession. Blystaura would be saved! The atmosphere grew thin and odorous again, the birds and beasts vanished, the forest withered, and the lakes and rivers coagulated. Cities regressed to iron headstones in valleys of cracked clay. The blue dwarf star became volatile and lashed out at its subordinates.

  All was obvious now, and fearing capture, she slid the throttle lever forward and slipped out of the atmosphere and fled from Mohgulari and its moons. Again, she passed by Sharath, and the sight of it brought tears to her eyes. The newborn ocean that teemed with life and abundance, now bereft of its source, was stagnant and evaporating into space. The corals, seagrasses, and barnacles suffocated and ultimately perished. The little furry beings that received the great gemstone with gladness had returned to their laborious existence on a barren and dusty dwarf planet.

  The success of her plan and safe getaway could not outweigh the sorrow in her heart.

  “The Jewels that were ours are ours once again. Our great abundance returns!

  What of the ruin of these little ones? And Mohgulari that burns?

  Can rightly judge, I, and their doom pronounce? And their cry of help, I spurn?”

  Cruising through limitless space, with nothing by which to gauge her distance or speed. For three long hours, Valistia was alone with her troubled thoughts.

  “I have the Jewels, but to whom do I give them and whom do I condemn to death?”

  Finally, Blystaura could be discerned from among the countless stars. From a shining pin-hole in the black velvet of space, it grew to the size of a melon, a brownish gray orb hanging on nothing. At last, she slowed and descended into the fading atmosphere. Dust valleys that were the size of continents and deeper than the greatest mountains were tall, sprawled between land masses that she could barely recognize. The oceans were entirely dried up, and the mountain ranges had crumbled into heaps of granite debris. From the dry ocean beds, great dust-storms arose and ravaged the land and sky.

  As she advanced to her side of Blystaura. The weakened sun turned deep orange in the turbid skies and slipped below the horizon. Then she came upon the hovering palace of the Oracle, which glistened with a thousand lights. Sand or dark cloud swirled around, enveloping the palace like a tornado, but did not enter it.

  She landed and again raced to find the Oracle of the Stars. The corridors and colonnades were jammed with refugees, people of every species. She heard singing. A voice that low could have only been the Oracle’s. She stepped around those who glutted the hallways, squeezed between those sitting on the floors, and finally pushed her way into the Grand Lobby.

  During the day, the sun filled the room with rainbows and dazzling light, but at night the bejeweled ceiling amplified the stars and gave off a soft blue glow. In the center of this scene of surreal despair, the Oracle stood singing a soft lullaby. His arms out to the sides and his palms upraised. His ultra-deep voice filled the vast chamber and flowed out to those in the corridors.

  “Though the harsh winds blow, whether sand or snow,

And lightning cracks about, we shall not be dismayed.

  “Though the world perish, with all we cherish,

Though our dreams get shattered, and our futures waylaid;

  “There is one who saves, stealing souls from graves,

His love will bear us up, so we’ll abide with him!

  “The Jewels were a gift, most powerful gift,

Tokens of affection, of love that won’t grow dim.

  “He is at the core, not the gems we ‘dore.

To wash is our object, our dead souls in his grace.

  “When subdued by death, loosing our last breath,

His arms will open wide, and we shall see his face

  “We shall see his face, his ev’r glorious face.”

  The last line he drew out on a breath and carried it nary above a whisper, then lowered his arms and head. A Bulbous-nosed Guphreina wiped a tear from his cheek, and a Sut-Gong fought back tears.

  “My lord, Oracle. I must speak with you.”

  He sighed. “You may.”

  “I have obtained the Jewels of Paradise!”

  Those nearby jumped to their feet. “The Jewels? The Jewels are back! We are saved.” The report spread like wildfire. The masses moved in, smothering those in the center.

  “Back!” Thundered the Oracle, and the rush ceased. “Have you forgotten the words of my song so soon?”

  A spark of lightning flicked out from the corners of his eyes. “Uncertain and uncomfortable, you were. But never abandoned, never in peril!” He threw out a hand with an outstretched finger. “Repent of your idolatry, lest the Gems of Lapidarius return to their maker.”

  The throng, now silenced, bowed their heads in shame. The sound of the raging whirlwind without was the only thing to be heard.

  Valistia’s purple eyes turned downward, and her fuchsia cheeks flushed with conviction. “The beings of Sharath, the barren moon, and of Mohgulari suffer from intense deprivation. How may I help them, my lord?”

  “The Mohgulau are thieves, creatures of hate and spite.” He folded his hulking arms. “Shall you cast your pearls before swine?”

  “They are, as you say, my lord. But we have such great abundance. Are we not commanded to share with others that have naught?”

  His expression softened. “Indeed! Go to Labidarius.”

  “Where is he, my lord?”

  “Do you think that he meanders among the rim of Creation? Preoccupied with black holes and the naming of endless stars of untold galaxies? Unconcerned by our affairs and trouble. He is never so far away as you all assume. His ship ever orbits Blystaura. For you, the Kaleidoscope People, are his greatest jewels. Return to your ship, and you will find him.”

  Self-conscious that all eyes were on her in breathless anticipation, she passed through their midst and departed in her Sky Voyager.

  The dark tornado spun violently; the cloud was an indistinguishable blur. But the air inside was calm and as sweet as roses in bloom. She ascended slowly, looking for a sign or a download to her navicomp showing where Lapidarius’ ship lay. Suddenly, a bright light burst from above. It blinded her eyes with fuzzy warmth, and she could not look away. The seven Jewels of Paradise shone in response.

  Inside the palace, brilliant light, as through a prism, danced upon the marble floors and the upturned faces of those in the Grand Lobby.

  As she flew higher and higher to make contact, her eyes cleared, and she saw it. A vessel of unfathomable size in the form of a Cumulonimbus Incus, a giant supercell with an anvil-shaped top. As if the night meant nothing, it was as bright as a cloud at midday. This massive ship sat atop the eye of the storm and was the source of the protective boundary. From it, lightning arced to the west and flashed in the east. It was not cloud, but solid, made of unknown crystals and purist gold.

  The navi-comp beeped, showing a landing pad on top of the broad anvil top. She sucked in a breath at the sight. A sprawling metropolis was built on top of it. A city with twelve foundations of precious stones. Her computer led her on a meandering route around the great mansions and palatial estates that made the greatest houses of Blystaura look dull.

  It would have taken Valistia ten thousand poems to scrape the surface of the beauty she saw. The mighty palace around which the entire city was built struck her silvery tongue dumb. Finally, she came to a lone spire toward the stern of the flat-top.

  She climbed out of her pod and laid the Gems of Lapidarius on the landing pad in front of her. She now realized that the Jewels were only a fraction of the beauty of this place.

  A platinum door swirled open like a camera diaphragm, and a man in an embroidered, white silken tunic and lamb-skin boots stepped out. His simple linen robe was bound at the waist with a crimson sash; its hem flowed out behind him as he strode toward her. He had an olive complexion, dark eyes, and black curly hair. His beard was trimmed on the sides. He stooped and looked at the gem, which sparked and shimmered in his presence.

  “What is wrong with them?” He said at last, still inspecting the Jewels.

  “Nothing, my Lord. I have just retrieved them from the Mohgulau. And I came to seek your wisdom.”

  “Do not hesitate. I am listening.” He turned and called out in words Valistia could not comprehend.

  Several people of the species common on Blystaura came from inside. They were dressed in fine linen, and had been laughing about something and were still smiling as the grabbed the Jewels and carried them back into the tower.

  “Please, follow me.” He ushered her inside.

  The people had placed the Jewels on a table beset with tools of precision.

  “Now, what is your dilemma?” Lapidarius said as he sat on a stool with his back to her and started to work.

  “The Mohgulau are suffering. I have seen the devastation of their planet. No natural sources of food, bitter streams, and air that chokes the lungs. And there are the little beings of Sharath, I don’t know their names, but they are in desperate need as well.”

  “Poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?” Whatever he was doing was causing a clicking sound like metal on glass.

  “Yes, my Lord. Their actions were wrong, but I was wondering if you could half our gems, that we may share their abundance.”

  “They stole the gems from you, and you wish to share with them?”

  “We have done nothing to deserve these Jewels, yet you have given them freely. I think it is our duty to share your blessings with the Mohgulau.”

  He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Indeed? That is what I would do.”

  Valistia, overcome with curiosity, approached the worktable. To her surprise, he had already begun cutting down the Jewels and was in fact working on the last one. They were only a fraction smaller now. In front of each was a duplicate gemstone about the size of her fist. She watched his skillful hands chisel and work the cushion-cut ruby, without somehow marring its surface.

  “Your hands, those are deep scars.”

  He took the loupe out of his eye and held up his hands. “Yeah, but they healed.”

  “What happened, my Lord?”

  “I was working on something, and it lashed out at me like a feral animal. Got my side pretty good too.”

  “Did you destroy it?”

  “Nah…” Labidarius smiled. “No, it was too precious to me. Here are the Blessings of Paradise.” He spun around on the stool and handed her a velvet bag laced with gold. Inside were the seven fist-sized gems. “Do with them as you have said.”

  “Thank you, my Lord. Thank you.” She bowed.

  “You’re very welcome. And while you are on your way to Mohgulari, deliver this to the Rath-Evers on Sharath.” In his hand was a bag like the first but tiny and containing seven peanut-sized gems, identical to the Jewels of Paradise. “Those are from the leftover fragments. Waste not; want not.”

  Wiping his hand on his robe, he called once again for his servants.

  “Don’t worry about the Jewels of Paradise, I know where they belong on Blystaura. I will have my people but them back,” Lapidarius said as he followed her to her ship.

  “How did the Rath-Evers get the sapphire to begin with?”

  “The Mohgulua’s ship dropped it by accident, and Sharath’s gravity naturally sucked it in.”

  She thanked him again, bowed deeply, then returned to her ship. There was no time to wait. She could rest on the three-hour transit through interstellar space. Pitching back, she blasted out into space and set her trajectory for the neighboring system.

  Even from a distance, she could see fluctuations in the magnitude of the Mohgulari star. The blue dwarf was shooting volleys of neutrinos in all directions. Instrument readings said that its surface was sloshing violently, and if it was not somehow stabilized, it would collapse into a neutron star. Its rapidly imploding crust would bounce off the dense core and blast out into space, creating a glorious nebula, fatal to everyone within a hundred or more light-years.

  Mohgulari was the chief planet and thus the only one to affect the star’s stability. Hoping the Mohgulau would not stone her on sight, she pierced their toxic atmosphere and darted for the Tower of Mohreeki. The squat and square citizens of the city were too preoccupied with loading ships and cargo vessels to worry about her, though their disdain was evident in their hateful glares.

  Again, the officer in maroon robes and a cast-iron, livery collar approached her. “Returned, have you, Doom-bringer?”

  “Quick, for your life’s sake and mine, take me to the Reeklyndau.”

  “Flogged, have you, they will.” He sneered.

  “There is not time to flog me. Your star is on the verge of eruption.”

  “Obvious facts, trouble me with, you must not. Come!” He spun on his heels and stamped along the same route he had taken her seven hours earlier that day.

  The elevator creaked and whirred as it cannonballed to the highest floor. She was now glad of its preposterous speed. Preparing for the jolting stop, she braced herself against the wall. Wham! She flew a few feet in the air and came back down on bent knees.

  “Over our destruction, to gloat, have you come, Pindeltheo?” The leader of the Reeklyndau rose to his feet, but she could hardly tell a difference in his height.

  “My Reeklyndau, I have brought gifts! Please take them and save your world.” She opened the bag and spilled the sparkling jewels on the coarse red-iron floors. “My Lord, Lapidarius, has cut down the Jewels of Paradise so that I may share them with you. He has dubbed them the Blessings of Paradise.”

  “Some trick, this is, of yours?”

  “No. Grieved have I been over your suffering and want. It was my ardent desire to share our great abundance with you, our neighbors.”

  The six, stony-faced rulers came forward and incredulously looked upon the Blessings. After a moment, water began trickling from the triangular sapphire, light and shadow from the round diamond, and dirt formed at the base of the rectangular emerald. They snatched them up greedily and stared at them. Once in their hands, the dripping and flashing ceased.

  “Shnigatz, to their proper domains, these Blessings take!” Ordered their chief.

  A group of plainly dressed servants rushed forward, took the gems, and darted out of the tower. Valistia followed the Reeklyndau around their thrones to the balcony that overlooked the city and the great panoramic view around it. She could see the scars caused by the Jewels of Paradise. Parts of the city to the north had collapsed from landslides, and flood lines were visible on the walls. Large rubble ranges snaked out of the north, remnants of the brief but mighty mountains.

  She looked up. Their star was pulsing, bright one moment and dim the next. It was bouncing from round to oval.

  Suddenly, water gushed from a nearby canyon. Fresh water spewed into the sky like a geyser. Cool, clean air blew from the same place. From the east, vegetation spread across the land like the shadow of clouds. Grassy meadows grew tall and lush. Forests and jungles sprouted out of rocky wastelands. Mountains rose slowly from the plains. Birds flew across the sky from the south. A purple rocket shot straight up from behind the newborn mountains and disappeared into space. Deer came into the meadow, and cattle meandered through the pastures.

  The pulsing, blue glow from the sky became steady, then brilliant. They looked up, shielding their eyes. It was perfectly round and stable and even warmed their skin without burning.

  Small flying caravels sailed back to the tower, and a moment later, the group of Shnigatz loped in.

  “The Blessing of Paradise, to their proper domains, we have taken. But of the seventh gem, puzzled are we.”

  She took the fist-sized ruby in her hand, then gave it to the chief Reeklynd. “It is the gem of completion and rest, that you may find solace from your work.”

  An ugly frown contorted his square face, and a tear rolled down his angular cheek. The others also lowered their heads with looks of shame.

  “A great thing, for us, you have done! Deserve this destruction because, upon ourselves, we have brought it. Deserved your judgment, because, pillage your world, we did. But your Jewels, mighty and abounding, with us, you have shared. Worthless this gift is…”

  He knelt, followed by the lesser rulers, and spread out his hands in a display of subjection.

  “A more priceless gift, you, in your actions, have displayed. Instead of death, Mercy, you have given us; instead of retribution, Grace! In my life, these things I have seen, ever and anon. But something more, I have not seen, you gave us… than precious jewels and paradise, a mightier gift still, Love for an enemy.”

  “To all our people, this adage, let be taught,” said a Reeklynd. “Better is, where love abounds, little relationships than, with hatred, mighty powers!”

  The others solemnly slapped their knees twice as if to say; Let it be done.

  “Represent us, with you, we plead, before Lapidarius, your master craftsman. Mighty Blessings of Paradise, for these, thank him. Of our humbling and penitence, tell him, please. Amenable hosts he will find us, tell him also.”

  There was a flash from behind Valistia and a peal of thunder.

  “Your entreaty has been received,” an unmistakable, deep voice announced. “It ascended like incense, a sweet-smelling… aroma!”

  She turned to see the Oracle of the Stars standing in all his glory. The gold stars and the ancient script on the hems of his blue robe shone with a brilliant light. He was twice the height and width of a Mohgul.

  “Behold, the Oracle of the Stars has a new abode, and it shall never be revoked.”

  The Reeklyndau grinned and bowed themselves low, slapping their kneecaps again and again.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Valistia said, then bowed and left the Oracle to his work. Her mission was nearly complete, but she was reluctant to leave. Mohgulari was fast becoming a unique and beautiful place, but Sharath still lay in ruins, though no longer in threat of a supernova.

  As she set down on the surface of the barren dwarf planet, her pod kicked up a storm of dust. She emptied the pouch into her palm and held the gems out to the Rath-Evers. Cautiously, they approached, looking at her, then to her craft and back. They took the glowing peanuts from her hand, kowtowed many times, then scampered back to their city, loping oddly in their funny, space suits.

  She closed the geodesic canopy and smiled to herself as she waited for air to hiss back into the cockpit, then removed her own air-tight suit. Even as she left, an atmosphere was forming on the planet. Water was collecting in low areas while soil and vegetation sprouted up.

  Unlike last time, her return journey was filled with peace and hope. Maybe she would come to these neighboring planets often and contrive poems for their pleasure.

  “If only I could understand the little Rath-Evers…”

  She came home. Blystaura was as beautiful as before. The jungles, mountains, and golden beaches were back. The citrine spires glistened in the early morning rays of the amber sun. Tourmaline dodecahedrons were half-buried in tall, grassy pasture lands. The icy blue sea once again reflected the soft butter-scotch clouds. People were back at their houses, exclaiming with joy at each miracle.

  She was amazed at the power of the Gems of Lapidarius. He had cut them down, yet they were as strong as ever, maybe stronger. More importantly, she realized that Oracle of the Stars still dwelt in the sky, and she knew that Lapidarius was not away exploring the tremendous and colorful nebulae of obscure galaxies in the remotest regions of space. He was always near.

  She was a pitcher, whose brim was overflowing with love and wonder. If she did not seize this moment, the milk of inspiration would surely be wasted upon soil. Returning to her pool, she rested and wrote:

  Quick as lightning, hushed like death, into the void it slipped.

Glist’ning treasure, fair and bright, its greedy talons gripped.

Fleeing to the realm of stars, their evil hearts so cold.

Seven sacred Jewels entombed, lay within its hold.

  Ashen wilted leaf and branch; like heavy rain, they fell.

Fiercely burned the amber sun, my life it tried to quell.

My world was turned upon its head, like straw set aflame.

Blystaura, precious Blystaura, death now overcame.

  “O Jewels of Paradise,” Through my lips passed a sigh,

“Blessings of Abundance, O apples of my eye.”

  “To our kindred system, the clandestine thieves have crept.”

  Said the bearded master, The oracle most adept.

Into space I disembarked, to thwart this heinous crime

Sand was falling through the glass; my greatest foe was time.

  Peaceful means, once tried and failed, forced me to darker schemes.

Floods engulfed the lower lands, I heard their sirens scream.

In behind the fleeing guards, their vault I slipped aboard.

My eyes beheld their glory, the gems I so adored

  “O Jewels of Paradise.” My shaking hands held high.

“O Stones of Enchantment, worshiped you long have I.”

  Stripped of comfort I was, and of luxury bereaved,

Sailing through the ever-cold, my sullen heart was grieved.

Shunned had I the giver's hand, although his gifts, revered.

Idolater! My soul condemned as my guilt appeared.

  Me, you have not forgotten, O Maker of the Way;

Ever in pursuit of me, no matter where I stray.

My soul, your powerful hands, with care did gently wrought

I, in pleasure's decadence, deserved these gifts, I thought

  “O Jewels of Paradise,” I had begun to cry,

“O Seals of Endless Grace, Your purpose I descry.”

  Ransomed by their Maker, and with love repaired again,

Seven Jewels, most certain, and my sinful soul the same

To their homes, He took the Jewels, and life renewed did burst.

Given us was perfect grace, and meant to be dispersed.

  Bloomed anew the desert cold and flourished green the land,

Oceans icy blue now washed upon the golden sand.

Forests buzzed with Your refrain; the waters roared along

Birds and insects bore aloft Your sweet Creation Song.

  “O Jewels of Paradise.” My gaze turned to the sky.

“O Master of the Gifts, Your Name, I’ll magnify.”

  Slipping her pin inside her journal, she laid them on the rock beside her and watched the little fishes dart and dance in the pool. She listened to the crystalline waterfall. Through the reflections, she could see the dark canopy that shielded the glen from the amber sun.

  The End

 No AI was used in the production of this story and its images.