The Vaen'ka: part 1

A doom approaches

This is the start of a brand new storyline in my ongoing science fiction / fantasy / crime fiction anthology serial. New chapter every week.

The Triverse is
Mid-Earth, an alternate 1980s 1970s London
Max-Earth, a vision of the 26th century
Palinor, where magic is real

Previously: Former detective Lola Styles is stranded on Palinor, where she’s fallen in with an insurgent group known as the Owkehu…

Outskirts of Lairn.
3203. Early Verdant.

It rained. The sky poured endlessly to the ground, a torrent as dense as a waterfall. It rained, and it rained, and then it rained some more. Lola had never known anything like it. A roar accompanied the water, the sounds of trillions of impacts on soil, rock, rooftops, canvas.

“Guess we picked a bad time to visit Lairn,” Lola said, holding the corner of the caravan’s window to stop the water from rushing in and pooling at their feet.

“It’s been like this for the last month,” Slava said, “and it’ll be raining for another two at least. It’s the wet season.”

A farmer trudged along the dirt path, a donkey in tow, a wide-brimmed hat covering his head and shoulders. Tiny waterfalls poured from the edge of the hat onto the floor, missing the man’s body. The donkey had a shield over its face, to prevent its eyes from being flooded. There were people working the fields, even with cloud so thick that it seemed like dusk. They walked wooden platforms, raised above the water fields.

The caravan’s wheels were large and wide, designed to negotiate the waterlogged, muddy roads. The sound of the horses’ hooves shifted as the ground underfoot changed from soil to stone, and out of the thick, wet air loomed the city of Lairn.

“And I thought London was damp,” said Lola, resealing the window and sitting back down on the wooden bench. It had been a long ride and she was eager to stretch her legs.

“Completely different climate,” Slava said, shaking her head. “Northern hemisphere on Mid-Earth, while Lairn is equatorial on Palinor. Couldn’t be more different.”

That’s why it was still so absurdly hot and humid, despite the rains. Lola wiped her forehead with her bare arm, both of which were drenched with sweat. The air itself was moist, her eyes constantly on the verge of filling with unintended tears. She felt oddly like she didn’t need to blink as often.

Pylpo was snoring in the corner, somehow managing to remain appealing despite her mouth being half-open. Daryla was riding in another caravan with Maxim and Zlati. Yana was travelling via a different route with Krystyan and Lykasra. Simova was still accompanying them — leaving him back at camp by himself wasn’t an option, and they’d not managed to offload him onto another group. The crew was careful, never moving as a singular group. Especially when approaching a city state, it served them well to entertain an abundance of caution. At some point, Krystyan and Lykasra would turn their eye properly towards Lairn, and then the city would know about it. That was not the intention of this particular visit.

There had been a murder. One of the Owkehu leaders was dead, and they needed to know why and who was responsible.

It was Lola’s chance to show her worth.

In the Verdant months, Lairn was a city of sails. The streets were adorned with colourful fabrics, positioned carefully to catch the rainwater and direct it away to the gutters. In the dry season they served their alternate purpose, shielding the inhabitants from the relentless sun.

Stepping down from the rear of the caravan, Lola marvelled at the dusty, dry, red sand underfoot. Above, it sounded like the sails were being pummelled by rocks from a far-off assailant. Solid walls of water poured from their edges, forming fast-flowing streams in front of every building.

“Try not to look like a tourist,” Slava said, hauling a large pack from the carriage as she led the way. A small, improvised foot bridge over the stream took them into the foyer of an inn. It was a whitewashed, adobe building, surprisingly cooler inside despite the humidity. “Two rooms,” she said to the aen’fa behind the desk.

There was a complicated water feature running through the foyer, a mix of fountains and small interior pond areas. Tiny fish swam from one side of the room to the other, some of the routes open and others covered by glass. It was fancier than Lola had expected.

“Got the keys,” Slava said. “Let’s go.” They passed through an arched doorway and into a courtyard area. There was a cloister-like corridor running around the edge, which was fortunate given the continued downpour.

“Must be nice in the summer,” Lola said, observing the benches in the open courtyard, entirely sodden.

“It gets too hot,” Slava said. “If you sat on that bench when the sun’s up, you’d burn to a crisp.” She glanced in Lola’s direction. “Especially you.”

She thought to protest, but it was a fair point.

“This is us,” Slava said, passing one of the keys. “You two are in there. I’ll be here. Yani will join us later.”

Lola had struggled to remember the details of the plan. “What about everyone else?”

“Other locations across town.”

“You sure I can’t be with Daryla?”

Slava rolled her eyes. “Of all of us, you two have the most recent arrest warrants. Your faces are well-known. Putting you in the same hostel would be a bad idea.”

It made sense. Besides, there had been an awkwardness between them since Tupu. Lola felt that she’d done something wrong, but also couldn’t think of anything she would have done differently.

“Come on,” Pylpo said, unlocking their door, “let’s take a look.”

Entering the room, leaving Slava outside, Lola took in the space. Two small, simple beds. Basic facilities: a sink in a corner, a small table and storage chest, the usual dual-purpose lanterns in the walls — one for traditional candle lighting, another for use by a wielder able to work the elements. She pulled aside a light curtain to investigate an open doorway into a small space containing a hole-in-the-floor toilet and what appeared to be a natural shower, with a retractable ceiling piece. “Look at this,” she said, pointing. “We can pull this back, let the rain in and have a shower!” It would be cold, but in Lairn that would be a momentary relief from the endless, sticky heat. “I wonder what they do in the dry season?”

“Get hot and dusty and sweaty,” Pylpo said, bouncing on one of the beds. “Places like this employ loads of wielders to run climate control spells. Pulling water up from underground, creating pockets of cooler air. Expensive, and difficult, so it’s only the rich families which get it. But yeah, the short version is that everyone gets very uncomfortably warm.”

Everywhere Lola went on Palinor it was a new experience, a different perspective. Always having to relearn what she already knew, or challenge her assumptions. It was exhilarating and exhausting.

“We stayed in a place a bit like this when we were trying to get to Mid-Earth,” Pylpo said, standing and spinning on the spot, her arms outstretched and her knee-length skirt twirling out like an umbrella. “Me and Zlati and Laryssa. It wasn’t this nice, obviously. We couldn’t afford anything that didn’t come with a free selection of dirty sheets and mould. But it was a good time. We had so many plans.” She sighed. “Didn’t work out, but me and Zlati at least ended up falling in with Krystyan and the others, and Laryssa managed to get through the portal to Mid-Earth. I’m sure she’s doing something exciting now. Started a business. Met a handsome young London man. Teaching kids. She could never quite decide what she wanted to do! So many ideas.”

Shit. It couldn’t be put off any longer. It would be unfair.

Crossing the room, Lola took Pylpo’s hands and sat them both down on the edge of one of the beds. “Pylpo,” she said, quietly, carefully, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Pylpo’s eyes, already naturally big, seemed somehow even larger. “Yes?” She kept hold of Lola’s hands.

“Your friend, who you and Zlati tried to get to London with. Laryssa.”

A flicker of confusion. “Yes, what about her?”

“I’m really sorry, I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid she died.” The words felt too harsh, too sudden, but she couldn’t think of a way to make them softer. Pylpo’s face drooped, the corners of her mouth and the crease of her eyes, usually tilted towards excitement and joy, sinking. “It was part of an investigation back when I was working in the SDC. As a detective, back in London. We investigated what happened to her.”

“Laryssa died?” Tears welled up, Pylpo’s hands shaking now.

“We found who did it. We got them. I know it’s not much, but maybe that’s something. I’m so sorry, Pylpo.”

“Who…did it? What happened?” She was staring through Lola, seeing something that wasn’t there. “Was she killed?”

“I’m sorry. She got caught up in some bad stuff as soon as she arrived. When you and Zlati were deported back here, she ended up falling in with an exploitation gang.”

Between heaving cries, Pylpo nodded. “But you got them. The ones who did it.”

“We did. Me and my partner, Clarke. And Kaminski and Chakraborty. We did everything we could.”

“You killed them, then? You avenged her?”

“Well, that’s not really how it works, but they were arrested and put on trial. They’re in prison.”

“It’s not enough,” Pylpo said, collapsing against Lola, crying onto her chest. “She didn’t deserve it, Lola.” She hugged Lola tightly.

“She didn’t,” Lola said. She could feel the tears through her shirt. “I wish it wasn’t true.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Pylpo said, sniffing, lifting her face away from Lola. “Oh, I made a mess,” she said, smiling weakly, looking at the wetness on Lola’s chest.

“It’s OK.”

“It’s horrible,” Pylpo said, looking up into Lola’s eyes, still clutching on to her, “but I’m glad you told me. Thank you, Lola.” Then she leaned forward, closer still, and kissed her.

Startled, Lola froze for a moment, Pylpo’s face so close, her eyes so big, still rimmed with tears. Then she was kissing her in return, and tearing at the aen’fa’s clothes, and marvelling at her luminous green skin, and all else was, for a time, forgotten.

“I’ve never been with someone who wasn’t human,” Lola said, as they sat entwined and naked on the bed.

“Oh,” Pylpo said with a mischievous smile, “you’re in for a treat!”

Somewhere distant, in the back of Lola’s mind, was the understanding that this is a mistake. She pushed the thought away as they both tumbled onto the floor, laughing and discovering one another.

Across the city, a hooded figure stood in an alleyway, partly shielded from the rain by an overhanging balcony above. Their clothes were ragged and grimy, though hidden by the heavy cloak. The hem was soaked through, tendrils of damp trying their best to rise up through the fabric.

They sensed the end was near, for them and for their kind. There was nothing left, no kin to share with, no possibility of passing on their skills to a new generation. The hunger gnawed at them, ever-more demanding, fogging their thoughts. Lifting a hand, they scratched at their face with one of their long nails, now more like a claw, or perhaps a talon, curved and sharp and still flecked with blood. They accidentally scratched themselves, the cut stinging. A sensation, at least, among the numbness. Their own drawn blood was almost indistinguishable from the burnt carmine of their skin.

A feed was needed. They could feel the power draining away, as it always did, faster with each day. Their appetite was too great, and there would be nothing left, soon enough. Perhaps that would be best: to drift away, the last of them, gone forever.

One last time, then. Or maybe two. After all, once they started, it was difficult to stop.

This is a hotel in Marrakech I stayed in back in 2014. Its style is not dissimilar to the Lairn inn that Lola now finds herself in.

---

References

We’ve seen Lairn before! It was first featured prominently in part 3 of the ‘Immortality’ story (May 2023), when we got the backstory for dubious cult healer Stan Lazarus.

Vaen’ka have been mentioned as well, most notably in ‘Ellenbrin’s monster compendium’ (March 2024). That was a very fun bonus chapter to put together! And, yes, the entire point of it was to lay the foundation for this week’s chapter. I had to make up other creatures so that the vaen’ka wouldn’t stand out too obviously.

However! That wasn’t the first mention of the vaen’ka. They were first name-dropped way back in ‘Railroad’ part 3 (December 2023) by Sergeant Raelar, a bit-part plot device character played by an enthusiastic extra who was very excited to have actual lines, but alas was never brought back despite a decent performance.

Laryssa’s sad tale was told in ‘Traffic’ (October 2021), which was the second story in this serial. That was a long time ago! She also had a diary, ‘Laryssa’s Journal’ (November 2021), which was the first mention of Zlati and Pylpo.

Long-term planning with online serials is hard, but worth it!

Meanwhile.

This chapter came in a day late due to some pesky migraines that hit mid-week. Apologies for that. Holidays and other events I can plan for and prepare ahead of time: this, not so much.

I received a giant stack of comics this week from Forbidden Planet. Of particular enjoyment was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles X Naruto, which is both gloriously daft and also rather clever in the way it mashes together two very different sets of characters and art styles. Read this one with the 11 year old, which was a joy:

Plus there was remarkable new newsletter-based comics from

Brian K. Vaughan

, who has blown the doors of his ongoing serial Spectators in typically spectacular fashion, and

Kelly Thompson

with a new issue of the ever-intriguing Black Cloak.

There’s just too much good stuff, guys. Slow down!

On Monday I had the absolute pleasure of meeting fellow newsletter writer

Johnathan Reid

in person. He was passing through Norwich (on his way to parts unknown) and we managed to squeeze in a lunch at the rather tasty No33 in the Park. Lots of talk of fiction, newslettering, Substack and more. A good time was had. I’d love to have a larger Substack/writer meet-up in East Anglia at some point — it’s always a bit tricky figuring out who is nearby.

What else? Oh, I joined Bluesky. Mainly to see if it would be useful for writers. I’ve not formed a conclusion on that yet, but you can find me here, if you’re so inclined.

Author notes

This story has been buzzing around my head for months. Late-2023, in fact. Some of it emerged from a conversation with

MattWBP

, where we were musing on various aspects of Triverse and the nature of magic, and various creatures and so on. From that chat emerged the idea of the vaen’ka, which are essentially the vampires of the Triverse. Except rather than feeding on blood, they feed on magical capability. It’s a nasty business.

Of course, we only get that little tease at the end of this chapter. The vaen’ka remains mostly off-screen, with the focus instead on Lola.

There’s a brief but critical line in the first chunk: there’s been a murder, and Lola can investigate it. For the first time since she’s been on the run and had to leave Bruglia, she hopefully gets to use her actual skillset. She won’t be running around after everyone else. Lola worked hard to get through the Met, to pass her detective exams, to get assigned to the SDC. 1970s London, even in the Triverse alternate universe, isn’t an easy place for a woman to progress. She’s done well, and put in the hours, and proved to everyone else that she knows what she’s doing.

And then that all got taken away. She needs a win.

What we get instead, of course, is a ‘win’ of a different type. One she might well regret, sooner rather than later. I wanted this scene to be a fast, unexpected, immediate response: these two are attracted to one another, clearly, and in the heightened emotion of their conversation this all happens before it has time to not happen. It’s inappropriate and awkward, given the context of the news of Laryssa’s death. That’s also what makes it perhaps unavoidable.

There’s a question here of who is taking advantage of who. Possibly both of them, at the same time. They’re both adults, after all.

It’s primarily a distraction, at a time when neither of them can really afford such things.

At this pivotal moment in the overall Triverse story, I rather like that one of the primary factors motivating these characters comes from the second story in the serial, way back in 2021. That’s the kind of long-term resonance that I always found so captivating in Babylon 5 back in the day, so doing some of that here is very satisfying.

Right. See you all next week.