CHAPTER 1
The Quest
She had the silver blue skin of the Jhondeflae. She really didn't follow the rules of the priesthood, her piers questioned her righteousness. They had no choice, but to accept her. Mutation chooses its own victims and they, like her became the Flae, blue skinned, silver haired, golden-eyed women with the power of creation
Shanica's quest, searching for a legend, dismayed the Flae elders. Never would a serious minded priestess think of chasing hearsay. They scoffed at the remote possibility that a male Flae still existed. The males had disappeared at least a hundred years before. The elders scolded her for not using her Selan to heal the injured, and to take care of all the needs of the multitude of mutants that lined up at the doors to the temples. Still she continued this quest.
Since only the Elites have the contraptions called machines, Shanica rode a Conda. A beast of power with seven legs, Tintle's long sleek body carried her easily and smoothly. The mighty Conda had four cloven feet connecting to muscular front legs, strong enough to pull himself up an incline of eighty degrees with five hundred pounds on his back. His three cat-like hindquarters allow him to jump long stretches, an exceptional riding beast.
Shanica promised the intelligent but sometimes-rebellious Tintle all the intoxicating Sinta flowers he could eat for a week, if he would just carry her on this perilous journey. Tintle agreed, although now he was thinking he should have held out for more as he labored beside the crevasse called Contraphobe.
Contraphobe seemed to stretch the length of the entire world, running north and south along what used to be the Rocky Mountains. No one knew the canyon's depth. The mutants surmised the Elites created it as a complex entrance to the world below. Anyone who ventured into its depths never returned.
Shanica, however, had no intention of descending into its eternal blackness, but desperately at this moment, was attempting to find a place narrow enough for Tintle's strong legs to jump to the other side. "Well, Tintle," she projected her thoughts, "this looks like as good a place as any to spend the night. What do you think?"
"Perfect," Tintle returned and gently sunk to his knees into a crouch, enabling he to slide gracefully to the slick obsidian stone that made up the edge and face of Contraphobe. "Shanica?" Tintle gently probed.
"Yes?" Came her reply.
"Do you think you could find it in your large gentle heart to create just a little Sinta to help me fall asleep." he projected.
"Oh I do not know, Tintle," she replied telepathically. "The last time I did you slept till midday."
"Please," Tintle pleaded, "just one little flower?"