R6 Greta: Home to Porolissum, part 2 of 3

October 8, 2019September 20, 2019M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Rhiannon looked away as she spoke, and Greta caught a glimpse of the idea that there might be something Rhiannon was not telling, but then what she said made sense. “Maybe the human war is not what you need to focus on.”

Greta wanted to ask what she meant and why she looked away, but they were at Hans and Berry’s door so she said, “Shh.”

Berry still lay in bed, sleeping on her face, her knees pulled up and her butt sticking up in the air. Greta whispered. “She used to sleep that way when she turned twelve and a wee winged little fairy.” Greta stepped up, but this time it took her whole hand to push and not simply her finger. Berry fell over and immediately protested.

“No, Mom. I’m still sleeping.”

“Time to get up sweetheart,” Greta boomed in her best mom voice. “Time for school. You don’t want to miss the school bus.”

Berry’s eyes opened and shot daggers as she crawled up to her pillows and pulled the covers over her head. “I can’t go to school today. I feel sicky.”

“Poor Hans. He is all alone.” Greta let out a big sigh and Rhiannon covered her giggle.

Berry pulled the covers off her face. “Cheater. But really, I feel sick. I have thrown up every morning for more than a week, not a lot, but every day.”

“Oh Berry.” Greta sat on the bed and helped Berry sit up. Rhiannon sat on Berry’s other side so she could not easily lie down again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to have a baby?”

“I am?”

Rhiannon put her hand out to touch Berry’s belly, not that the goddess did not already know. “Definitely.”

“Me and Hans?”

“Unless.”

“No, never,” Berry said. “Me and Hans.” She smiled a big smile for a second before she asked, “boy or girl?”

Greta stopped Rhiannon’s hand. “Do you want to know?”

Berry thought for a second and shook her head. She gave Greta’s oft used response. “Healthy and happy is what matters.” and Rhiannon and Greta hugged her and helped her stand.

“Good,” Greta said. “Now I can go back for more sausages. Maybe a sausage and egg sandwich.” Berry looked pale at the thought of food. “There are wafflies, and apple cinnamons,” Greta said to tempt her. “And sausage on the side.”

“What is with the sausages?” Rhiannon asked.

“I think my son is going to be a carnivore.”

“I think my baby is going to be skinny,” Berry said and turned pale again.

“I would like—” Rhiannon started the sentence, but Greta cut her off.

“Don’t even think it. You are not even supposed to be here, remember?”

###

After nearly a month, Greta could not wait any longer. Darius and Greta’s Father were in Porolissum, the main settlement on the northern border of Dacia, having made the long trip from Romula in the winter rather than waiting until the spring as planned. They brought up six hundred Roman Cavalry, and six hundred auxiliaries as their escort, only to have two hundred cavalry and a hundred auxiliaries rebel and try to take over the town. Darius sent out half the escort on arrival. They went out in groups of thirty to a hundred men to scour the mountains for the enemy and secure the passes that led to Roman land. The Mithrites turned half of the remaining men and acted as soon as they saw a chance for success. They raised the men of Porolissum and thought to turn them to their side, seeing that so many of them were branded rebels in the last rebellion; but the men of Porolissum remained loyal to their high chief and to the governor, Darius. Led by Drakka and Bragi, they put down the rebellion at no small cost. Now, they were working furiously hard in the snow and slush to fortify the town and the border against whatever might be coming in the spring.

Greta made a doorway between the Second Heavens and Earth. She said good-bye to Avalon, the sanctuary she made for all her little ones back four thousand years before Christ. It had become her sanctuary and place of peace against the storm that gathered on Earth, but she understood she could not put off her responsibilities any longer. She stepped out on to the Earth, dressed in her own ordinary dress and well-worn red cloak, and left her armor home in Avalon, just to make a point in her mind. She wanted to arrive quietly and unobserved and chose a spot next to her brother Bragi’s home, along the side of the house where the grass got tall, but the whole community was up in arms and in such a bustle of activity, there were plenty of people who stopped and watched Greta, Hans, Berry and a bunch of strangers step out of a hole in the air.

One of the watchers, Karina, Bragi’s wife, had her two children, Kurt and Padma with her. Karina opened her mouth until she recognized Greta and curtsied. “Mother Greta,” she called her. Greta frowned at the formality and hugged the woman.

“Just Greta,” she said. “Just Bragi’s little sister.”

Karina returned the hug, but had more to say. “And wife of the imperial governor. And the woman of the ways who saved so many lives from the headsman’s axe, and who consorts with spirits and powers beyond my reckoning, and who is able to appear out of nowhere, out of the very air itself.”

Greta took a step back and thought she better introduce her crew to give some familiarity, to counter Karina’s distress. Karina kept staring. “This is my friend Bogus,” she said. Bogus had on his glamour to make himself look like the old prospector. “He is grandfather to both Fae and Berry. Fae.” Fae stepped up disguised like an older woman, not nearly as old as she had looked when she lived as a human, but hardly young enough for Bogus to be her grandfather. “And her husband, Hobknot,” Greta added. Hobknot looked like an older man, but he kept tugging on the fairy weave clothes Fae made him wear, and he came across as very curmudgeonly. He grunted his Hello.

“Hans, of course,” Greta said, and Hans gave Karina a hug. “And Berry, and my good friend Rhiannon who is from the Celtic lands beyond the mountains.” Greta saw Berry and Rhiannon kneel and talk to six-year-old Kurt, with three-year-old Padma hidden behind her brother’s shoulder. The little girl kept grinning. Greta looked again at Karina. Karina had been the beauty of Boarshag, and Greta could not imagine how she ended up with her clunky, big brother. That happened before Father got elected High Chief of the Dacians, as Greta recalled, so Karina did not go for anything like money, power or position. And Karina truly appeared beautiful in every human way, but then Greta looked again at Berry and Rhiannon. Berry lost none of her beauty when she stopped being a fairy and became fully human. She remained fairy beautiful, and that went into another whole beauty category, far beyond human reach. And Rhiannon! She toned down her godly attributes to almost nothing so she could walk among the mortals, but she could not disguise her looks without real effort. Rhiannon looked goddess beautiful, and it appeared breathtaking, impossible to focus on, and almost too much for a human mind to take in and comprehend.

R6 Greta: Home to Porolissum, part 1 of 3

October 7, 2019September 20, 2019M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Greta sat at the breakfast table and fretted. Her whole world started falling apart and she felt powerless to do anything about it. The Sun-runner and the Soldier were back on earth, gathering an army to invade Dacia. The Roman legion, the one supposed to defend Dacia, under General Pontius’ leadership, might very well help the Scythians. Greta managed to send word to Darius and her father, but some of the very men who escorted them around the province were Mithrites and could not be trusted. Rome had become a mess, in far more danger from inside the ranks of her vaunted armies than she ever was from outside pressures.

“Greta.” Greta looked up. Hans woke up for breakfast. Berry was missing. Fae and Hobknot were also missing. They disappeared almost immediately on their arrival. Hobknot took her to see the sights and wonders of Avalon, and for the past week, Bogus paced and made grouchy faces and noises. Willow was wonderful, but she and Thumbelin had lots of catching up to do, so Greta did not see much of her.

“Greta.”

“What?” Greta answered her brother and had a thought. “You haven’t had thirds yet. You don’t want Missus Kettleblack to be insulted.” Missus Kettleblack was the kindly old dwarf woman who ran the kitchen in the castle.

“I can’t eat like I used to,” Hans said. “I just spent the last two years with nothing to do but eat and sleep and get fat.”

“I don’t see the fat,” Rhiannon came into the banquet room, and everyone seated at the various tables around the room stood out of respect for the goddess.

“Great Lady,” Hans offered a bow. She might not have been a goddess for the Dacians, but she was certainly a goddess. “Maybe you can answer my questions since I can’t seem to get my sister out of her sausages,” he said.

“And what questions might those be?” Rhiannon asked, but then she read his mind and answered without waiting for the questions to be verbalized. “You know one of the crossed swords very well. Excalibur. I understand you carried it over the last two years.”

“I didn’t hardly get a chance to use it,” Hans griped.

“How fortunate for you,” Greta returned the gripe.

“Ahem,” Rhiannon cleared her throat. “Excalibur was made for Diogenes, a young man who fought beside Alexander the Great. The other sword is a bit smaller and thinner. It is the sister sword, Caliburn, and it was made about a hundred years later for the Princess. You have met her,” Rhiannon pointed out and Hans squinted and tried to remember. He felt sure he must have met her.

“And that is some of the finest work the elves of the mountain ever produced,” Lord Branworth spoke up from the accountants table. “Priceless artifacts.”

“Same crew that made Thor’s hammer,” Lord Deepwell of the dark elves said.

“Or their descendants,” Lord Darkvein of the goblins added.

“I am sure all of these weapons have fascinating stories,” Hans interrupted the background commentary. “That is what I was asking Greta.”

“Indeed,” Rhiannon said. “But not all of these belonged to the Kairos, at least in the sense that they were mostly used by others. This great spear that hangs over all, for example, is the Seig of Lug, sometimes called the Lance of Lieu, or Slaughter. It came from the deep south to Britain, Wales, and eventually Ireland. They say no battle was ever won against it and it always hit its mark.”

“Rhiannon,” Greta interrupted this time. “We need to leave the Celtic treasures where they lay. The old ways have gone and the new ways have come. And while I am sure you will do a wonderful job when you find a young man to train in the martial arts, I wish you would not encourage Hans. He’ll just get himself hurt.”

“Greta!” Hans protested. “There is no harm in hearing the story of the Lance of Lugh. Who was Lugh, anyway?”

“He was a great sun god.” Lord Sunstone the elf wizard stood and walked toward Hans who was standing at the back wall, looking up at all the treasures hung around the fireplace. “Lugh infused the lance with the very power of the sun.”

Greta rolled her eyes, took Rhiannon’s hand and pulled her into the hallway. “Hans has too much time on his hands. We need to find his wife to distract him.”

“Young Berry,” Rhiannon named her. “But I feel as if there is something else you wish to tell me.” Rhiannon could not read Greta’s mind.

Greta shook her head to say no even as she spoke. “I feel guilty staying here as long as we have. The world out there is massing for war and I can’t think of any way to stop it. I can imagine ten thousand Scythians gathered by now, preparing for all-out war, and if they bring in the Lazyges, Capri, Sarmatians and others, that number could easily top twenty, even thirty thousand. And what is there to stand in their way? Will a few thousand Goths and Slavs take up the sword against such odds? I doubt it. One look and I would turn my little army around. And even if the Roman legion raised all the auxiliaries within reach, they would still be outnumbered two or three to one at least. But it is worse than that. Half of the legionnaires are probably Mithrites and would fight for the other side.”

“Not half,” Rhiannon said. “Not more than ten percent, but do not underestimate the power of Rome and the pride of the Romans. Even if they are Mithrites, many will still fight for Rome.”

“I hope,” Greta said. “But I can’t think of any way to stop it. And the Mithrites not only have the numbers, they have Mars and the Sun-runner still living and active and driving them forward to victory in a way that only the gods can do so well. And the Pater. I guess Mithras himself is the father figure. I’ve been thinking that the Pater was just another aspect of the old man, like Mithras had seven small pieces break off from his person, like seven of his fingers; but now I think he broke completely apart, into seven whole pieces, and the one I was calling Mithras is in reality just another piece of the whole, no more than any of the others. I guess Mithras is the head, but why the head should trap me into killing off the other parts of his own body, I have no idea. Who can guess what game he is playing?”

R6 Greta: Land of the Lost, part 3 of 3

October 2, 2019September 20, 2019M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“The big bird is after the big worm,” Bogus said it, and they all ran to the door in time to see the dragon grabbed by the bird beak and tossed into the trees. The dragon protested with fire, and it looked like it held its own for a while, but the bird kept grabbing it and shaking it and banging it against the trees, until at last, the big worm ran out of strength.

The bird picked up the worm with its claws and headed into the sky. It punctured something, as the people smelled the gas. The hydrogen bladder that ran along the whole belly of the beast had a leak. The dragon waited until they circled enough to gain some altitude, then Nameless said a quiet, “No.” as the dragon flamed himself. There followed a massive explosion. People screamed at the horror. Pieces of dragon rained down on the forest along with all of the insides of the Raven. The bird plummeted in a streak of flame, and Berry and Fae raced out to where the dragon fell. The rest of the crew followed.

Nameless saw something in his mind, picked everyone up with a thought and transported them to where the dragon head had turned into a very old and broken man. Nameless also caught sight of the spark of light that came from the Raven. It shot to the south, well beyond the dome, but he said nothing as Berry and Fae fell down beside the broken old man and began to cry.

The man could hardly speak, but he looked first at Bogus and breathed. “Sorry father.” Then he spoke to the girls. “You have my permission and blessing. They seem fine men, such as they are.” Then he turned to Nameless and stumbled over his thoughts. “None of the parts of Mithras mean good for the human race. They want to be the new gods and they all want to lead their way. Beware Mithras. He is the Pater.”

The old man’s voice trailed off and Nameless raised his head and commanded attendance. “Willow,” he called, and his command went all the way to the Ural Mountains where a snow fairy vanished and reappeared at Nameless’ side. The fairy spun around several times, but halted on sight of the Nameless god. “Your grandson,” Nameless pointed to the old man, “And your great-granddaughters.” He stepped back, and let Willow find her own way.

Willow flew up to face the old man. She took on her big form, which made her appear like a beautiful, older woman, perhaps just shy of fifty. She knelt beside the old man and looked briefly at Fae and Berry before she smiled for the man and spoke. “You are Oren?”

“I am,” Oren whispered. “And now my days are complete.”

Willow took Oren’s hand, the one Berry was not squeezing, and found one tear to protest. “But you are so young.”

“More than a hundred,” Nameless said softly. “More than long enough for a half-human.”

Willow looked up at Fae and Berry. “Berry,” she said. “Queen Thumbelin has told me wonderful things about you, and young Mab said you were all right, which I think at her age is a great compliment.” Berry’s eyes teared up so she could not say anything. “And Fae. I have heard from far away, from my dear old friend, Thissle, that you are a kind and wonderful person. How you ever got involved with the old stinker, Hobknot, I will never know.” Willow paused to wink at Hobknot, who scowled appropriately in return. Clearly, they had some history. “But love is a strange and wonderful thing, and that is worth holding on to.” Willow turned her eyes toward Bogus who stood that whole time, quietly worrying his hat.

“Mother.” He spoke when her eyes fell on him.

Willow smiled for her son. “Sometimes love takes us places where we could never imagine. Love had its way with me and your father, and though it was only for a short time, he gave me you, my son.”

“I’ve been not much of a good son,” Bogus said. He lowered his eyes and shuffled his foot.

“But you have.” Willow smiled for her son. “I have been thinking about it now for more than a hundred years. I was wrong. You loved your human woman, Clarissa. The Kairos has taught us that we are not to mingle with human mortals, but even she knows that love will have its way. I treated her badly. I was terrible. I was wrong, and I went away, and I am sorry. I missed my grandson’s whole life, and now I can never get that back.” Willow looked down and a few precious fairy tears fell to dampen Oren’s side. Oren extracted his hand from Berry’s grasp and with a great effort, he covered Willow’s hand and patted it twice. Bogus found a few tears of his own and stepped up to hug his mother. Nameless spoke.

“There are only two things in life that everyone experiences. Love and death. And we have no control over when they will come.” Nameless went away so Greta could return and finish the thought. “Who would have thought I would end up with a Roman?” She stepped up and looked down at Oren. “Sleep now,” she said. “The old life has gone. The new life has come.” Berry reached for the cross she wore around her neck and Oren closed his eyes and stopped moving. Immediately, they heard a howl. The Wolv were not far away. Greta lifted her voice to the sky. “Nameless! You are mean.” He brought her back to face her own Wolv.

“What are we going to do?” Hans asked.

“Oh, Hans.” Greta stepped to the side and amended her word. “Hansel.” She grinned as she waved her hand in the air. A great archway formed, a doorway to Avalon in the second heavens. Greta and Berry had been there once. Now, the others were coming, but then her little ones were always welcome. “Hans and Hobknot, carry Oren,” Greta commanded. “Quickly now. Through the door before the Wolv catches us by the heel.”

People scrambled as another howl came, closer than before. They heard the yip-yip of the Wolv before they crossed the threshold and stepped out on to a perfect, green lawn beneath a beautiful blue sky and a magnificent castle on a hill. A small river ran through the grasses and emptied into the sea at their backs. To their left were great rock pillars, like guardians against the sea. To their right stood a field full of grain ready to harvest. The air felt crisp in the late fall, but they saw no snow to cover the ground. Directly behind them all, in the doorway to Earth, Greta stood and waited.

A Wolv ran up, but stopped as it tried to make sense of where it stood as opposed to what it saw through the archway. A second and third Wolv arrived and stopped as well. The third Wolv looked like an old gray-haired Wolv. Greta spoke to the gray hair, and since she spoke from Avalon, she knew her message would be understood.

“You know this planet is off limits. Your fleet will be destroyed in space before it can arrive if your commander is foolish enough to come here. As for your transport, I have other tasks to perform, but as soon as I am free, I will attempt to repair your ship so you can leave. You would be wise to confine yourselves to the forest of the dome in the meanwhile. Do not interfere with the war between the humans, unless you have a wish to die and be no more.”

Greta snapped her fingers and the door to Avalon blinked out of existence.

************************

MONDAY

After a stay on Avalon, Greta and her family need to visit her brother who lives on the north border of Dacia. She sees only blood being spilled, and fears the war to come. Until Monday…

R6 Greta: Land of the Lost, part 2 of 3

October 1, 2019September 20, 2019M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“I was able to bring in food and we have blankets and such things, but I did not have the power to take us out. My power is greatly diminished and the more so when I am blocked by the Nymphus.”

“You are broken, old man,” Greta responded. “Why have you not gone over to the other side?”

The old man smiled a little, but it did not look like a warm or welcoming smile. Greta saw something calculating in that smile. “How can I pass over when I am not every whit whole?”

Greta shook her head. “Your brother Varuna would be very unhappy with you.”

The old man’s visage changed. He gritted his teeth and furrowed his brows. He did not expect that comment. “My brother surrendered to the invaders and gave everything to that moron, Indra. My brother got reduced to the lowest of the low, a simple god of the sea, not even allowed to set his foot on the dry land.”

“Your brother saved millions of people and ended a war among the gods that might have killed every living thing. And Amphitrite says she does not appreciate your prejudicial attitude about sea gods.”

The old man looked startled, but then he softened. “Yes, I forgot. She would see things differently, though as I recall, she did not get counted among the gods of Olympus.”

Before Greta could respond, a voice came from the doorway. “Get him. Kill him so we can end this.” Mithrasis showed up. She stood in the doorway and pounded once on the invisible door that kept her out.

“Where is that dragon?” Mithras responded sharply. “The agreement was to keep you away and I care for his daughters. Nymphus, you have no part in this conversation.”

“But she does,” Greta interrupted. “I intend to put her in her bed.”

“What?” Everyone but Fae asked. Fae kept her mouth closed. Mithrasis looked seriously interested.

Greta, who wore her armor since Samarvant, called for her weapons. They appeared, attached in their proper places, so the sword called Salvation rested on her back with the handle sticking out over her left shoulder, and the long knife called Defender rested comfortably across the small of her back, or as she thought, across the top of her big butt. Greta looked at Mithrasis.

“Let me in,” Mithrasis yelled. The Nymphus liked Greta, but paused when Greta went away and Nameless stood in her place.

“And I intend to put her in her bed, personally,” Nameless said. Mithrasis paused before Nameless heard the click and Mithrasis doubled her effort to get in. “But first, Mithras, I want to know what game you are playing.” Nameless whipped out defender and put it to Mithras’ throat faster than anyone could see or react.

Mithras dared not move, but he spoke. “I am an old man, as you see. I should be on the other side, but I am not whole. I thought if I could get your help, you might find a way to repair the damage and set me free.”

“He lies,” Fae said softly. It was her one true talent, to tell truth from lies.

“Kill him, and we will all be free,” Mithrasis yelled.

“She lies,” Fae added.

Nameless raised one brow. “I don’t believe anyone has told the whole truth this whole time. And whose stupid idea was it to pull down a Wolv transport?”

“Hers.”

“His.”

Nameless merely waved his hand and the force field around the dome ruins came down. Nameless stood in his element, so to speak. In the Land of Aesgard he was counted as a Prince. As the last child of Aesgard in his own jurisdiction, his will became final. Neither Mithras nor Mithrasis could overrule what he decided. At least that was how it was before the time of dissolution.

Nameless held out his hand as Mithrasis tumbled into the circle. She hesitated and squinted at Nameless’ hand, but Nameless was a love god on his mother’s side, and that became too hard to resist. Mithrasis took the hand and while she did not exactly snuggle up to his shoulder, it was near enough.

“So what game are you playing?” Nameless asked again.

“Kill him. Be done with it,” Mithrasis whispered in his ear.

“It is no game,” Mithras said.

“Then let me put Mithrasis in her bed,” Nameless said, and he turned, and once again in a move too swift to follow, he slipped Defender up under Mithrasis’ ribs and into her heart. Nameless did not want to lie for fear Fae might inadvertently say something, but he thought the whole time of putting Mithrasis in her death bed.

Mithrasis’ eyes got big. She began to shake, like one suffering an internal earthquake, and she began to sparkle, like the light inside her started burning out. “But I’m on your side,” she said, even as she fell apart. This time, they all saw the one spark of light rise up from Mithrasis’ crumbling remains and shoot into Mithras’ mouth. Mithras let out a great shout, and he collapsed, unconscious to the ground.

“This is the third time we have seen this,” Hans said, while Fae knelt down to check on the old man. “He should stay out for several hours.”

Hobknot stepped up and spoke to Nameless. “Lord. We spent the other two times arguing about whether the Mithras was a friend or foe.”

“But he fed you, and cared for you, and kept you all alive,” Bogus said.

“So said the women, but young Hans and I had our doubts.”

“And I questioned some,” Fae said. “It was not that he lied, but he told such half-truths as fit his agenda. I could not help wondering if the whole truth might speak against his agenda.”

“A true progressive politician,” Nameless said, and turned toward Berry, but before he could speak to her, a giant shadow fell on them. The Raven, the giant bird, the Roc, appeared to be coming right at them. “The shield has been removed.”