Author: M G Kizzia

M3 Festuscato: Saved, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“The Kairos is sometimes female, except then he is our goddess,” Mousden said, confusing poor Hrugen further who shook his head in bewilderment.

Gregor asked a serious question.  “I thought, didn’t you say there was only one God, or three?  Unless you count that devil, too.”

“The jury is still out, as Festuscato would say, on who in fact Lord Agitus serves.” Seamus looked serious.

“The almighty, surely.”  Bran needed no convincing.

“Judging from these little ones, I would guess mostly himself.”  Gregor stirred the pot.

“Well, where is he?  I must apologize.  It would have been a black mark on my family for generations to drown my own god.” Vingevourt ignored the Saxon and sneered at Luckless.

Hrugen mumbled. “How can you drown a god?  It doesn’t make sense.”

“He’s not here.” Mousden said, right before Luckless shouted.

“My tools!” Luckless danced.  “Blessings, Master Sprite.  Please let me beg your pardon for misjudging your character and motives.  If there is anything you want, do tell.  I would gladly make goblets of gold for your banquet table, if I had any gold.”

“No need.” Vingevourt became gracious in return. “The only thing metal is good for in the sea is rust.  So which one is he?  What do you mean, not here?”

“I fear he may yet be dead,” Bran said.  “And I will have failed in my mission.”

“Not dead, master swordsman.  Do not be dismayed,” Mirowen told him.

“Not dead, I know it,” Mousden said, as he flew around in several circles and tasted the air. Everyone looked at Luckless as he contained his joy for a moment.  Dwarfs have an unerring sense of direction from living most of their lives in an underground warren of caves and mines more complicated than any labyrinth ever conceived by men.  They can also find any other given dwarf in that place with a sniff of the air and a sense that humans don’t have.  Luckless sniffed, closed his eyes, turned three times in a broad circle and finally pointed up the coast and slightly inland.

“And that’s not easy out in the open air,” he said in search of a bit of praise, if not sympathy.

“Easy or not, we should move,” Bran said.  “If the Lord has moved off the coast, he may be a prisoner in this strange land, or in other danger and in need of our help.”  Bran immediately rose and began to remove the ropes from his improvised raft. He would need them to tie their things to the backs of their horses and pony.  Gregor and Hrugen helped by saddling the beasts.

They were off soon enough, Luckless on the pony, leading the way.  Mirowen rode behind Seamus the Cleric while Gregor, Bran and Hrugen rode the other three horses.  Mousden flew most of the way, but landed occasionally on one horse or another.  Gregor, good heartedly invited the water sprite to ride in front of him.  His horse bucked once when Gregor mounted.

“Settle down, supper,” he said to the horse.  He called all horses supper.  “You stood around half the morning getting fat on scrub grass.  Now it’s time to work.”

The water sprite seemed reluctant to ride at that point, but Gregor stared him down with his one eye.  “It will be fine,” he said.  “It’s a horse, not a plow mule.”  When Vingevourt got up, Gregor added, “Won’t likely buck more than a dozen more times.” He laughed, and then regretted his invitation.  “Master Sprite, you’re leaking.”

“It’s perpetual,” Vingevourt said, having turned his words to the British spoken by the rest of the party.  He was a well-traveled sprite.

Gregor thought about that, but he did not really understand the word.  “Aren’t you afraid you’ll leak out eventually and disappear?”

“No.  It’s perpetual.”  The water sprite repeated with some annoyance.

“Magic.” Mirowen turned her head back to explain in terms Gregor could understand.  “No matter how much water appears, Vingevourt will not get any smaller.”

“Oh,” Gregor said, and he asked the sprite to please perpetual on the horse as much as possible.

“Easy for you. You’re nothing but mud.  A little water might clean you up if it doesn’t melt you,” Vingevourt said.  “More than likely I’ll be the one who will get filthy.”

“Huh!” Gregor huffed, but he said no more.

The trail seemed easy enough as they came quickly out of the rocks and to a sandy shore. There were three ships there, well up on the beach, all in various stages of building.  One appeared just a skeleton.  One looked nearly finished.  The third, somewhere in between.  There were two other ships as well, like ships in dry dock, being in various stages of repair.

“Easy,” Bran whispered loud enough for them all to hear.  He nudged a quick finger toward one ship in dock.  There were a dozen men, some standing around, but most examining the ships in the morning light for signs of damage from the storm.  The men watched the strange procession, but they neither said a word nor did anything to stop their progress.  The danger soon passed, and Hrugen spoke as soon as they were clear

“Ingut, the shipwright,” he said.  “I would bet this is his place, unless he died in the last twelve years, then it would be his descendant’s place, or another like him.”

“Ingut,” Vingevourt nodded.  “I know him well and his silly splinters of wood he floats across the surface of my realm.”

“This tells us nothing,” Gregor said.

“He is a Jute, but he owes allegiance to no one in particular,” Hrugen explained.  “He will build for any king or lord who will meet his price.  Jute, Thane, Dane, Swede, Norwegian, Geat, Frisian.  It doesn’t matter.”

“So, Lord Cato might be safe, or in trouble?” Bran asked for clarification.

“Safe, I would imagine,” Hrugen said.  “His clothes speak of money, and his shipwrecked condition speaks of needing a ship.”

“Sharp thinking.” Gregor complimented Hrugen.

“Let’s hope Ingut thought of it.”  Luckless shouted back from the front.  Dwarves had good ears as well as noses.

M3 Festuscato: Saved, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

It did not take long for Mousden to have the driest wood he could find stacked in a neat pile. Unfortunately, no one could get it started until Luckless came along from the opposite direction.  Dwarfs can nearly always get a fire started.

“Unless I’ve lost my tinder, too,” Luckless grumbled.  He had not, and in a moment, the flames rose with the sun.  The rain was over.  “I see you saved your books,” he added, with a nod to Seamus.

“It was Bran,” Seamus explained.  “We were able to stay aboard ship until there was nearly enough light to see.  The pounding of the waves made the ship lean more and more terribly to the weak side, where the hole was.”

“List,” Hrugen interrupted.  “Ships list, they don’t lean.  I don’t know why.”

“Yes, well, all that time, Bran kept tearing up boards and lashing them together with what rope he could find.  In the end, he said we were in danger of turning over altogether and he dropped the raft on the side closest to the water.  I got down with the books and Bran dove in and hauled the raft free of the ship, which by the way did turn over shortly after we escaped.  We came to shore, and it was a miracle the books are not more soaked.”

“Common sense.” That was all Bran called it.

“I don’t suppose you saw my tools?” Luckless asked.  The poor dwarf was still wringing buckets of water from his clothing. Dwarfs were not good swimmers in calm water.  Their legs and arms were too short.  They had a tendency to sink like stones.  The others all shook their heads, but Seamus turned and pointed to the sea.

“You’re welcome to take a look,” he said.  “The ship is not very far out.”  He pointed, and sure enough they could see the hull just above the water line in the distance.  It could not entirely sink, being grounded there on the rocks, but in time it would be broken to pieces by the relentless sea and become driftwood for someone else’s fire.

Luckless warmed his hands.  “What’s the point?” he asked.  “All is lost and it is all my fault.  If I hadn’t come along, you would have had clear sailing to the Danish coast where the Lord wanted to land.  I’m such a jinx.”

“No.” Everyone spoke together, but Luckless felt convinced.  The only reason they hit that storm had to be because he was a jinx, and he lost his precious tools as well, the last gift of his father, and now he would just sink into the rock until he was no more.  He felt miserable and he would not be talked out of it.

A couple of hours later, they caught sight of Mirowen.  They were hungry and just about to give up waiting and go in search of food, when she appeared, meandering sweetly down the coast.  She looked perfectly dry, her long black hair flowed in the light breeze, every hair in place, and her dress looked like it had just been cleaned and pressed.  By contrast, the men looked disheveled in their muddy, damp and wrinkled clothes. Hrugen’s blond head looked brown from the mud.

Gregor one eye was the first to notice that she was talking while she walked.  “I can’t hardly make out what it is, though, she is talking to,” he said.

Luckless squinted. His eyes in the day were barely better than Mousden’s.  “Water sprite.  I think.” He did not sound sure.

“Be back.” Mousden announced and flew off to greet the Lady.

Mirowen arrived with not one, but a whole train of water sprites in her trail.  They were true little ones, from eight to twelve inches tall and looked like a gelatinous mass roughly in the shape of a person, with a shimmer along the edge, which made a casing, like a nearly transparent exoskeleton that held them together.  The chief walked beside the elf and had a voice high pitched like a mouse, but sounded sweet as a baby.  The others, what Festuscato might have called liquid gingerbread men, carried all of the boxes and personal things that could be salvaged from the ship.  They also brought two more horses and a pony.

“Gentlemen.” Mirowen spoke when she got close enough. “May I present Lord Vingevourt, king of the water sprites and ruler of the Baltic.”

“The whole sea?” Hrugen asked, and looked ever so uncomfortable.

“No,” Vingevourt squeaked in Danish.  Mirowen had to translate.  “I’ve got a nephew in the North Sea, and a third cousin in the Channel.  I don’t know about the Arctic, what ice blob has that at present.”  Luckless and Mousden, of course, understood every word.  The little ones had the uncanny ability to understand each other regardless of the language, but even as Mirowen translated, the rest of the crew looked at Hrugen who shook his head.

“Not proper Danish,” Hrugen said.  “Jutland dialect which is difficult and has some strange soundings.”

“Odd pronunciations.”  Seamus returned the favor.  “Words are pronounced, not sounded,” he said.  “I don’t know why.”

Vingevourt continued while his train set down the cargo and dove back into the sea to disappear. “Imagine my horror when I came to discover through this fine Lady that I nearly drowned my own god in that storm.”

“Your god?” Hrugen asked.  He was the new member of the group and didn’t know the full story of Festuscato.

“Sure,” Gregor said with a sly grin.  “Didn’t you know your captain was one of the gods?”

“God only for the sprites of the earth,” Luckless said.

“God for us, too,” Vingevourt responded.  “Many sprites of the waters, the air, and the fires under the earth belong to him as well.”

“Mostly, you might think of him as the Watcher or a Traveler.”  Mirowen explained before the argument hardly started.  “But he is just an ordinary human to you.  That is inevitably how he or she is born.”

“She?” Hrugen raised an eyebrow.

“Of course.” Mirowen nodded.  “You don’t suppose he should always be born a male, do you?”

M3 Festuscato: Shipwreck, part 3 of 3

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Festuscato knew it was swim or die.  He knew no way to get back aboard the ship as the waves would not let him.  Still, he tried until a great swell lifted the ship from its place and swirled it away.  In the dark and rain, Festuscato might have never found his way, but he spied something white that moved not far from him.  With a tremendous effort, he leapt through the waves and grabbed hold of the horse’s mane.  The horse acted in such panic, it might have been heading further to sea, but Festuscato did not care, and he imagined if anything other than Luckless’ nose could find land, it would be the horse.

He got kicked, and kicked again, but he held on for a good long time until with one great buck, his fingers finally gave up their strength and grip and he slipped back into the waves.  He kept on, then, in the horse’s wake and tried desperately to time his breathing so he took in air and as little salt water as possible.

Aboard the ship, another half hour passed, though they were very low in the water and clearly sinking.  Every board creaked and groaned by the battering and the pressure of the sea. It sounded horrifying enough, but then that other sound returned, that sickening, scraping sound against the bottom, and the little ship ran aground.

Bran let go of the tiller.

“Everyman for himself!  Abandon ship!”  Hrugen shouted, and the tiller snapped at the rudder point, and he and Gregor went over the side.

Not long after that, a man dragged himself up on a sandy beach.  The rain had slackened.  The worst of the storm was over.  He panted and heaved water when a strong pair of hands grabbed him and beat him on the back.  He threw up, and fainted as the strong hands lifted him from the shore.

Festuscato came around enough to recognize a man’s voice.  He called for Inga, whatever that was.  Then he got brought into a cabin; a warm, dry cabin where the fire burned brightly in the night.  The man, that is, the old man put him in his daughter’s lap by the fire.  She stroked his forehead, tenderly, and he struggled to wake up.  He cracked his eyes open and saw a buxom young blond girl mothering him.  He could not speak.

“Sanka vurden marsda, Inga.  Kerdurmen hans gurt.”  The man said, or at least that was what it sounded like in Festuscato’s ears.  No doubt the water.  The old man had Festuscato’s shirt off in a minute, Inga assisting.  Then his boots and pants were put by the fire.  Last, his underthings were removed and he got helped naked into a warm bed and under several blankets.  “Gustevirden wyrd Inga.  Degaben.” The old man said something like that and went out into what had become a gentle rain.

Festuscato looked more closely at his savior.  She looked about eighteen, quite blond and buxom indeed, and not at all bad when she smiled.

“Geslemen da toot,” she said and showed her soaking wet dress where he had sat, dripping all over her.  Naturally she took it off, and everything else besides.  Then she followed the time-honored tradition of Norse women who find a half-drowned, half-frozen sailor on the beach.  In fact, she saved his life several times that night.

The sunlight began to crack on the horizon when Gregor climbed the rock and found Bran and Seamus trying to dry out the books.  “Here they are.”  Gregor shouted behind.  “And they’ve found a couple of the horses.”  Hrugen said nothing, but looked slightly red as he pushed past the old, one eyed Saxon.  Mousden fluttered ahead and greeted his shipmates with tales to tell.

When Gregor arrived, he interrupted.  “Enough pixie exaggerations,” he said.  “Let me tell you what really happened.  Pixie can do us all a favor by finding some wood and getting a fire going.”

“Sure,” Mousden said with a touch of sarcasm.  “It’s my story, but you just want me for firewood.  No good it will do without Mirowen.  Wood’s all wet.  I ought to fire your butt one day.  Probably blow us all up, you old fart.”

“Shark!” Gregor gasped and pointed. Mousden moved so fast, for all practical purposes, he vanished.  Gregor barely had time for a good laugh.

“And what’s with our Danish friend?”  Seamus changed the subject and noted Hrugen looked ready to cry or spit.

“Not so fast.” Gregor laughed again.  “It started when I reached the shore.  I was so worn from swimming, I thought I would die on the ground.  But then I heard the cry of distress and so I made these creaking old muscles move.  I looked and nearly cried out myself.  I thought the wind, rain and sea water had made me blind.  Seems the swim shifted my patch from my bad eye to my good one.”  He paused for a long laugh at himself.  “But then I looked again and I saw Hrugen, still well out in the waves, struggling like he was going down for the last time.  I would have rushed to him, but you know, I can’t see distance well with one eye.  I could not say how far away he was in the dark and rain.  Then I saw a sight to wonder.  Strike me if old Mousden had not grabbed our sailor by the shoulders and held him up.  They struggled a little.  I think poor Hrugen might have been a bit heavy for the little one, but he flapped his wings mightily for about three lengths of a man, and then he dropped him.

“Ahh!” Hrugen screamed as if he would drown for sure, and he began to slap the water like a man who does not know how to swim.

“What ya screaming for?” Mousden asked.  “It’s shallow here.  You can walk.”

“Oh,” Hrugen said when the words penetrated his mind.  He put his feet down and walked to shore.”  Gregor had to stop for a long, hearty laugh and a slap on Hrugen’s back. It must have been a sight.

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

Monday

Saved.  Festuscato and his crew are saved, maybe, as they are taken to the king of the Jutes.  Until then, Happy Reading

*

M3 Festuscato: Shipwreck, part 2 of 3

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“Mousden!” Festuscato shouted to the top of the mast where the last member of the motley crew spent most of his time. “What do you see?”  The light seemed to be fading too fast and Festuscato started becoming concerned about the possible storm.  He wondered if he should turn the ship toward the shore to seek shelter.  Certainly, the sea began to turn rough.  Fortunately, the Cornish Pixie’s eyes were very sharp in the dark.

“I see the usual collection of lazy layabouts on the deck,” Mousden shouted down.

The men looked up. “Hawk!”  Gregor shouted and suddenly pointed.

“Hawk?” Hrugen looked up, but Mousden had already shrieked and flown to the deck faster than an eye could see.  He crawled under a coil of rope to hide, being only a foot and a half tall, altogether.

Gregor laughed with the others, and after a moment, even Hrugen thought it was funny. Mousden, however, got mad.

“How would you like a hot foot,” Mousden threatened Gregor for the millionth time, but everyone knew the old, one eyed Saxon really cared for the little winged man. Even Mousden could see that much.

“Ahem!”  Festuscato cleared his throat.  “I meant, what can you see at sea?”

“Oh.” Mousden nodded.  “Just some monsters spouting water and headed right for us.”

“Whales on the whale road.”  Hrugen jumped to the railing and Bran caught him before the pitch tossed him.  All the men, carefully strained in the growing darkness to catch a sight of the wonder.

“Ahem,” the captain said.  “I meant the clouds.  Is there a storm coming?  Should we seek the shelter of the shore?”

“Oh, yes, Lord,” Mousden said, frankly, but without the least comprehension of what he was saying.  He was just not very used to moving among men and did not fully understand human needs in the face of a hostile universe.  For that matter, most of his life got spent in caves and such, and he still just started learning about things like bad storms.  “There’s a big storm coming.  A monster storm.”  Festuscato had already turned toward the shore.

“When?” Festuscato asked.

It started to drizzle.  “About now. Why?”

At that moment, a giant swell washed the front of the boat, nearly swamped the whole bow. Mirowen held to her place, like a magnet to iron, but she got soaked head to foot and reacted as any woman would. Festuscato had one moment to view her glorious water soaked figure and the sheer vulnerability of her in her state, and the heavens opened up.

“Hrugen! Gregor!  Tear that sail.  Bran! Seamus!  Loose the horses.  Mousden to Mirowen.  We need your eyes in the dark.  Mirowen! Call out direction.”

“To port.” She spoke right from the beginning. “There are rocks to starboard.”

The lightning began and rapidly came in sheets like the driving rain.  It took only moments before Gregor and Hrugen cut the chords of the sail and the ropes began whipping in the wind.  They still had enough tension in the canvas to give the ship some real impetus and direction, but not enough to cause the mast to snap. That would have been a real danger. As for direction, Gregor and Hrugen quickly joined their captain at the tiller.

“To Port. We’re drifting,” Mirowen said.

“I see the land. I see it,” Mousden shouted, excited, though how the men at the tiller imagined he could see anything was beyond them. He bobbed up and down about a foot above Mirowen’s head, barely able to stay aloft in the wind.  He got hard blown toward the sea twice before a particularly close lightning strike made him quit his post and seek out his hiding ropes.  Luckless had already come back on deck with his precious bag of tools.  Seamus also came back up, his precious books in hand. He held the ropes across the deck from Luckless and hunkered down over his papers.  Bran came last, rubbing his shoulder where a terrified horse kicked and grazed him.  All the same, he joined the men at the tiller.

“More to port.” Mirowen shouted, her words somehow got through against the rain.  The swells came, and the little ship began to bob up and down like a cork in water. They began to take on water, but there seemed no point in bailing.  Everyone had to hang on for dear life as the sea took them for a ride.

For three hours Mirowen shouted, “To port!”

And Festuscato shouted back.  “She’s hard over already.”

For three hours, Mousden shivered under the ropes, Seamus and Luckless protected their priceless cargos and four men kept the ship turned hard to port, though whether they went to port or were driven to starboard in spite of everything, none could say.

“There are rocks to starboard!”

The lightning flashed, and the rain and thunder crashed, near deafening.

The sail ripped altogether in the third hour.  It flapped in the wind and the ropes flailed about and became dangerous for those amidships. That condition did not last long as the mast cracked in a snap as loud as the thunder.  When it broke altogether, it fell into the sea right over Luckless’ head.

“Luckless!” Seamus shouted.  The dwarf did not answer.  Leaving his books to the wind and rain, Seamus crawled toward the spot.

“I’m okay,” came the call.  “Mousden snatched me away in the nick.”  Seamus crawled quickly back to his spot by the railing.

“More to port! We’re getting too close to the rocks.” And they did get too close, first to hear the horrifying sound of an underwater ridge scrape up against the bottom before a boulder, taller than the rest, crunched into the ship’s side and caved in a portion of the deck below.  The ship jerked to a stop and Festuscato got thrown overboard.  He barely missed the rock itself as he plunged headlong into the cold waters of the Baltic.

M3 Festuscato: Shipwreck, part 1 of 3

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Festuscato:  The Halls of Hrothgar

After 416 A. D., Outside the Western Roman Empire

Festuscato 1:  Shipwreck

The clouds gathered, gray and dark on the eastern horizon, but the evening was near and Festuscato was not sure if the darkness got caused by a storm or the slowly fading sun. He considered the problem when his eyes became utterly taken by another vision.  Mirowen came up from below where the seven horses, and two ponies sounded restless, even against the sound of the wind and the waves.

“Lord.”  She acknowledged him in the way she did ever since they left Rome on this impossible journey.  Long gone were the days of his childhood when she called him sweet names, and his teenage years when she called him spoiled brat.

“My Lady.” He responded and watched her walk to the bow to stand, statue-like; her habit of the past seven days.  Everyone else watched as well and only returned to their various distractions after she came to a stop.  Festuscato, held the tiller dead on and had nothing better to do than stare.

Mirowen’s long green dress flowed out beside her with the wind and made it seem as if any moment, the beauty might take to flight.  She appeared, not so much a beauty one could point to, Festuscato decided, but more of an unearthly kind of something that made her impossibly attractive. It could be seen in the perfection of her form and figure, in the grace of her every gesture, in her long black hair and pitch black eyes, in her elvish ears with those perfect little points. Festuscato decided she needed a mate, if one could be found to match her perfection.  Sadly, at present, all he could do was sigh for her and turn his eyes away.  Besides, Hrugen seemed much more interesting.

Hrugen claimed to be a great Danish sailor.  He volunteered to guide them safely through the waves, once he found out their proposed route would take them near his homeland.  He said he had nothing against living in exile in Britain, but secretly, Festuscato imagined the man just got homesick.  As Festuscato suspected, the man proved to be no sailor at all.  In fact, Festuscato had started calling the man Gilligan, from time to time, even if that made himself the Skipper. Presently, Hrugen tried again to tie down the sail in the corner where it came loose and flapped, furiously. Gregor One Eye, the old Saxon, finally got tired of watching him and did it himself.

“I was about to do that,” Hrugen said, defensively.

“Nothing compared to what I was about to do,” Gregor said.

“Yes,” Festuscato thought.  “Seven days at sea could be interminable.”

Gregor sauntered over to where Seamus, the Cleric and Bran the Sword sat quietly.  Seamus wrote in his book, and Bran leaned on his sword, contemplating the cross.  The first was a cleric in the true sense, a priest of the Irish, a present from Patrick. Bran was a puritan through and through, and also a present, given by Constantine whom Festuscato anointed as the first Pendragon to rule Britannia in the name of Rome until such time the Romans returned, if ever.  Bran had been charged to defend the Senator’s life until Festuscato could safely return to his home along the Appian Way.

“What is it you write in that book of yours, anyway?”  Gregor asked as he sat on the cleric’s other side where he could keep watch with his good eye.  “You’ve been writing for seven days now and I have not heard a word except out of that other book of yours, that Bible thing.”

“I am keeping a record of our journey and adventures,” Seamus said.

“Adventures?” Gregor let out a hearty laugh. “Haven’t had any yet.”  Bran, craned his neck a little as if to take a look, though he had not yet shown anyone reason to believe he knew how to read.

“If you must know.”  Seamus spoke fast, corked his ink and set it and his quill in the pouch he always carried. “I have just written how we came into the Baltic from the outer sea yesterday morning, rounded the height of Jutland and came within sight of the coast which ran from horizon to horizon.”

“That’s all there is at sea.  Just horizon every way you look.”  Hrugen spoke as he joined the group.  The others paused.  For one minute, it appeared as if Hrugen might be sick, again.  “I try not to think about it.”  He finished, and looked down at his shoes.

Bran still craned. “It’s poetry,” he said.  “It’s not supposed to make sense.”

Seamus shut the book even though the ink was not quite dry.  “It makes sense,” he said.  “It’s just poetic.”

“Latin?” Gregor asked.

“Of course,” Seamus said.  “Just because we were wise enough not to get entangled with Roman overlords, doesn’t mean every Irishman’s an uneducated lout.”

“Quite true,” Gregor said with a big, friendly grin.  “Well, partly anyway.”

Bran stifled a laugh and stood up for the cleric.  “David was a poet.  I’ll grant you that,” he said.

“A barbarian of high esteem?”  Hrugen asked.

“A king for God’s people,” Seamus said.

“God’s chosen,” Bran said, almost at the same time.

“Which god?” Gregor asked, and then relented.  “That’s right, you only have one, so you say.”

“The Danes know of the Alfadur.”  Hrugen suggested.

“Can he protect my tools from salt water?”  A new voice joined the group.  Luckless the dwarf had come up from below where he hourly checked on his precious possessions.  “Pray that they don’t all rust.  Some of them were my great-grandfather’s, brought all the way from the mines of Movan Mountain.”

“But I thought your father was in the thick of it when the dwarf lords drove you out?” Seamus said.

“I don’t blame him,” Luckless said, with half a heart.  “Got to seek my fortune.  Besides, what would you do with a bad luck charm?”

The two Christians shook their heads.  The other two, however, looked like they would throw the dwarf overboard in a minute if he was not under Lord Agitus’ protection.

Kairos Medieval 3: Light in the Dark Ages

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Beginning Monday, June 22, 2020

Having read some of the Avalon stories that have appeared on this blog, I thought it only fair that you get a look at several of the actual Kairos stories in their full form.  If you have not read any of the Avalon stories that have appeared on this website, that’s okay.  The stories here are self-contained with one exception:

The books (not presently available) weave the partner stories like a fine tapestry.  For this blog, however, I have pulled the stories apart so you can read a whole Festuscato story, for example, without having to flip back and forth to Gerraint and Margueritte.  Hopefully, that will work well.  You can just ignore the rare references to what is happening in those other stories, knowing that, like the Kairos, you will get there, eventually.

The Kairos Medieval, book 3, Light in the Dark Ages, and book 4, Saving the West, will be posted in their entirety.  All weeks will have posts on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday = 3 individual, easily and quickly read posts per week at 8AM, EST, to carry the story forward.  A good way to start the day.

M3) Festuscato: The Halls of Hrothgar   8 weeks of posts

After leaving Britain to the Pendragon, Festuscato, the last Senator of Rome, is shipwrecked on the Danish shore.  With his strange crew in tow, he finds his way to the Halls of Hrothgar where a beast called the Grendal has come like a plague on the mighty.  Festuscato leaves nothing to chance.  He sends for Beowulf, but he has to tread lightly to keep history on track.  He knows things will turn strange as the Grendal, the creature of Abraxas, cannot be harmed by any weapon forged by man.

M3) Gerraint: The Holy Graal   13 weeks of posts

Gerraint, son of Erbin feels his days of struggle should be behind him.  All he wants is to retire to Cornwall with Enid, his love.  But when ghostly hands carry a cauldron across the round table, he knows he has to act.  Arthur deftly turns all talk to the Holy Graal, but Gerraint knows he has to stop the older men from recovering the ancient treasures of the Celts and dredging up the past.  Christendom is only a thin veneer and if Abraxas is allowed to strip that away, history might be irrevocably changed.

M3) Margueritte: The Old Way Has Gone   18 weeks of posts

In the early days of Charles Martel, Margueritte experiences everything a Medieval girl might want: fairies, ogres, a unicorn, dragons, knights to love and daring rescues.  But it is Curdwallah the hag, the devotee of Abraxas, that haunts her dreams in the dark.

 

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MONDAY

M3 Festuscato: Shipwreck.

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Avalon 6.12 The Road Ahead, part 5 of 5

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

People stopped firing.  Any soldiers who survived, did so by running away. The roof across the street looked empty of archers.  Li Si, the king’s chancellor stood in the alleyway, but his eyes looked wide and his mouth seemed stuck open.

“Done,” Elder Stow said.  “I have put up a screen wall between the house and the street.”  He looked at the others, saw enough through the window to see the bodies, and he complained.  “The equipment is not designed to make a wall screen, much less a single sided screen. It takes time, focus, and serious reprogramming.  I worked as fast as I could.”

“That’s all right,” Lockhart said.

Decker spit.  “No problem.”

“Are we finished?” a voice asked. Everyone turned and saw Tien Shang-Di, king of the Chinese pantheon, standing there, looking older and wiser than the last time they saw him.

“Lockhart and Katie.”  Meng Shi decided.  “You need to come and collect the outlaw horses, and all of their equipment, and take it with you.  The rest of you need to get the horses and wagon out of the back yard and get ready to ride.”  He walked out of the house, Tien beside him.  Katie and Lockhart followed without a word.

Alexis hurried to the back, concerned about Millie watching all those horses by herself.  Others, especially Boston followed more slowly.

Katie and Lockhart proceeded with the grizzly task of stripping the outlaws of everything, including their pants and shirts.  Lockhart drew the line at the underwear.  Then they collected the guns and horses.

Meng Shi and Tien walked up to Li Si, who still had not closed his mouth.  “Removing the memory of the gunpowder and how to make it is easy.  I would think some memory of explosive magic powder should not be a problem.  Memory of the outlaws will be trickier.”

“Strangers with big horses and magic weapons might work,” Meng Shi responded.  “It fits with the magic powder idea.  The travelers are moving through time on big horses with saddles and magic weapons, and there is not much I can do about that in most times and places.”

Tien nodded.  “So, what do we do with this one?”  He looked at Li Si, who even then had not closed his mouth.

“A day would be helpful,” Meng Shi said. “Maybe twenty-four hours, like lunchtime tomorrow.”

“Lord Meng?”  Li Si did not appear certain what he was seeing.

“Are you planning on running away?” Tien asked, being unable to read Meng Shi’s mind.

“My family,” Meng Shi said.  “I need the travelers to get them to safety, to Xiang’s family around Shu, before I confront the servant of the Masters.”

“I can’t help you with the servant of the Masters,” Tien said, and paused to look closer.  He grasped something, reading minds or not.  “You believe you might not survive that confrontation.”

“I might not,” Meng Shi said, honestly.

“Don’t worry,” Tien said.  “I will watch over your wife and children.”

“I appreciate that,” Meng Shi said.

“Lord Meng?” Li Si asked again, as he, and Tien, and Li Si’s horse disappeared from the street.

Meng Shi turned around. The street appeared full of people carrying water for the fire.  He heard plenty of talking, shouting, and noise, but he caught sight of Katie and Lockhart in the alley.  They had mounted the outlaw horses, and he nodded at their wisdom.  Leading the horses through the crowd might have been difficult, but people would step aside for mounted warriors or dignitaries.

Meng Shi had little trouble getting back to the house where he found his own horse saddled and waiting.  He noticed several of the local houses were on fire.  He felt bad about that, but also felt there was nothing he could do about it.

They started out slowly, but it did not take them long to reach Meng Shi’s house.  They immediately began packing the home and family for a long journey.

Meng Shi’s wife, Lilei, and their eleven-year-old daughter, Aiting, packed their silks, and everything of value around the house, down to cooking utensils.  The women helped, but Lilei felt reluctant to pack her jewelry and the family gems in front of these strangers, until she found out Boston was an elf.  Boston found out something, too.  Later, she tried to explain it to the others.

“I felt the love Lilei had for Meng Shi, and how much he loves her.  And the children, too.  All I wanted to do was help and protect Lilei, and do whatever she asked.  You know, I was a free spirit, inclined to do my own thing, and good at being passive-aggressive, even when I was human. Becoming an elf did not change that much.  I might not have done exactly what she asked, but the urge felt strong to treat her almost like a goddess.  I don’t think I can explain it better.”

“The little ones have always treated the beloved spouse of the Kairos as special,” Alexis said.  “And the children like princes and princesses.  Even close, special family members, family servants and trusted retainers, and close, personal friends have been treated well. It is really self-defense.  Things would not go well for the hobgoblin that played a nasty trick on the beloved spouse of the Kairos, as you may imagine.”

Meng Shi took the men and his two boys, fifteen-year-old Pi and nine-year-old She, to the barn and stables. Meng Shi’s trusted retainer, Ba, showed them the oxen, the two big wagons, and the horses they needed to get ready to travel.  Meng Shi found some shovels and got Lockhart and Decker to take the boys out, to dig up several bronze pots filed with gold and silver.  Elder Stow said he was not much good with oxen, but he had just the right tool for making holes in the ground.  He used the same tool Alexis used to pull the bullet from Boston’s shoulder.

“She, I understand,” Lockhart told the boys.  “Like Meng Shi Junior.”

“Father calls She Junior, sometimes,” Pi said.  “His real name is Shu.  That means third son.”

“Our brother died when he was one,” She added.

“Even though Father sometimes calls me Shu.  It is complicated.”

“Pi?” Lockhart said the name like a question, but Pi understood what he was asking.

“I am Meng-Meng, the first son.  Shu means three.  Father calls me that sometimes, because he says I made a family of two into a family of three.”

“Point one four one five nine, father says,” She nudged his big brother.

“Pi,” Decker said, and snorted.

Once everything got packed, it became too late in the evening to move.  They would relax and leave about two hours before sunrise.

Meng Shi called his children close and instructed them that for the next month, or until he caught up with them, they were not to call themselves by the Meng name. They would take their mother’s name, Xiang.  He explained to Lilei that he had dangerous work to do, and he explained to the travelers that he would hide and watch for three weeks, maybe twenty-five days if he could manage it.  Probably not a full thirty days if he had to act.  He wanted to plan his move where he had the best chance for success, by which he meant survival.  The travelers understood that they had to be gone in that time in case Meng Shi died and the whole time zone reset.

Meng Shi and Lilei went off to spend what time they had together.  Millie and Alexis got to put the children to bed, and Millie confessed that she really wanted to have children.  Alexis said she understood.

Four in the morning, the caravan headed out from Meng Shi’s house.  Meng Shi stayed, and showed himself to his neighbors in the daylight with the hope that they would think whatever travelers headed off in the night, they had nothing to do with his family.  He prayed that by the time his neighbors figured it out, his family might be well on their way, and difficult to catch.

Lilei cried most of the first day, and Aiting cried with her.  Pi kept a stiff upper lip, but She ignored them all and kept running ahead.  Boston finally put the boy up behind Sukki, and the three of them got along great after that.

Ba, and five servants, including one man for each ox-drawn wagon, went with them to watch over the family. Ba got a third ox to carry the traveler’s wagon, which they loaded with all the silver, gold, and jewels, and which also carried all of the cowboy equipment.

Lockhart rode Dog at the front of the line, and Katie rode the horse that had been Reynard’s.  Alexis, Lincoln, Evan and Millie shared the other two cowboy horses, and two horses they brought from Ji, but mostly they walked, since the caravan could not move any faster than the lazy oxen.

Decker and Elder Stow took the wings, but in this case, they kept their eyes open for whatever might be following them, or catching up.  They also watched the dozen horses that got tied to the wagons, including the rest of the ones the travelers rode all the way from Ji.  It would make the beginning of a nice herd once Lilei reached the city of Shu.

Shu proved twenty days down the road, and Boston got nervous.  That had been the limit of Meng Shi’s promise, and the time gate looked to be a few days beyond the city.  They saw Lilei and the children warmly accepted by her family, and heard the family promise to keep the secret of the Meng name.  Lilei’s mother delighted in calling her grandchildren Xiang Pi, Xiang Aiting, and Xiang She.

Three days later, Boston and Sukki stayed out front, and Decker and Elder Stow stayed on the wings. They all had their own horses.  Lockhart rode Dog, sometimes, and Katie rode Reynard’s horse, though she switched it out to use her own saddle.  Billy and Tom Porter’s horses took turns as draft horses to pull the wagon.  They were not sure how long they could keep the wagon, but the paths were becoming roads, and the roads were improving, so they might do well if they did not end up in the middle of a jungle.

Katie and Lockhart often walked with the others.  In a pinch, Katie could double up with Lockhart on Dog.  Lincoln and Alexis could double on one cowboy horse, and Evan and Millie could ride another, which would leave the third cowboy horse to drag the wagon, possibly for miles.  That would not be a good way to go under normal circumstances.  It would be too hard on the horses.

“So that leaves us with walking most of the time,” Lockhart concluded.  The morning sun just touched the horizon, and people started packing to go.

“Have you noticed,” Katie said, and paused.  “Maybe it is just me, but it seems the time between gates is getting longer.  That is not a good thing if we are reduced to a walking speed.”

“How do you figure?”

“Twenty-three days from Meng Shi to the gate.  Xianyang to Shu was four hundred miles, according to Lincoln.”

As Lockhart considered her observation, Tien Shang-Di showed up.  Alexis noticed and figured it out.

“Meng Shi died.”

Tien dropped his eyes.  “I can hold the time gate here for a bit, but I would appreciate it if you hurry.”

“Boston?”

“Heading out, Boss.”

People moved quickly.  Things got thrown into the back of the wagon, and Evan pulled the cowboy horse forward, through the gate.  Finally, Lockhart and Katie, both mounted, were the last.

“Thank you,” Katie said to Tien, who waved.

“Come on,” Lockhart told her.  “We have a long way to go to get back to the twenty-first century.”

END

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TOMMOROW

A brief introduction of what s to come.  We return to familiar faces and one new face in the Kairos Medieval, Book 3 Light in the Dark Ages  (M3) where Festuscato, last Senator of Rome sails to Danish lands and the Halls of Hrothgar (8 weeks of posts).  Then we return to Gerraint in the days of King Arthur and the search for The Holy Graal.  (13 weeks of posts).  And finally, The Old Way has Gone, where Margueritte, grows up on the border of Brittany and Francia, and gets into all kinds of medieval trouble. (18 weeks of posts).  Tune in tomorrow for the preview.

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Avalon 6.12 The Road Ahead, part 4 of 5

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

When they reached Anyi, Meng Shi checked with his nephew Meng Yi, the one he left in charge of the city.  No more wagons or barrels of magic powder went up the road on the way to the army in Handan.  That was good, so Meng Shi spent a day interviewing Yi, and others, concerning the condition of the city.  He found things calm and the people far more settled and at peace with Qin rule than he expected.  He told the others that his nephew was a natural.  They headed out for Xianyang, the capitol of the Qin state.  That would be a five or six-day journey.

On one of those nights, they sat around an inn within Qin territory, and the subject of the servant of the Masters and his attempt to develop a plague came up.

“But here is the thing.  This scientist of the Masters has talked about being alive in the far future.  He has the king thinking about immortality, but in the way the gods are immortal, and I have not heard any suggestion that perhaps that is not the case.  The king is superstitious, you know.  He has decided that there must be some kind of magic formula.  He is going to be the spark that sets off two thousand years of Chinese alchemy in the search for immortality.  True, there are some good things discovered in that time; but mostly, what a waste of human skill and ingenuity, and too many good people will die, testing the potions, and in other related ways.”

“But that isn’t what made the people turn against him, is it?” Millie asked.  She had been wondering about that, and did not get a satisfactory answer from Evan, who admitted he knew little about Chinese history, or from Katie, or Lincoln.

Meng Shi admitted.  “I can only read the writing on the wall, so to speak. I have no definitive answer, either; but I would say he will centralize everything, like some two-bit fascist, socialist dictator. He will massively raise taxes, which will crash the economy.  He will redistribute the wealth, mostly to his own pocket, and to his friends, which are those who suck up to him.  He will begin massive government work projects, digging canals, making roads, building the Great Wall of China.  More than a million people will die from overwork and malnutrition.  The people will be miserable, and hate him.”

“What about the nobility?” Katie asked.

“That much is certain,” Meng Shi said. “He is convinced the hereditary nobility is what caused the Zhou Dynasty to fall.  He plans to replace the nobles with an elite class of bureaucrats.  You know how graft and bribery work.  Worse, at least the nobles had a vested interest in what happened to their land, and the workers on their land.  You can’t get rice from a dead man.  National bureaucrats can make the most inhumane, insane rules and could care less what happens to local people, as long as the people keep the rules.  That is all that matters to bureaucrats.”

Alexis complained.  “Bureaucrats are just people, like any others.  They are good people, mostly.”

Several people scoffed, and Lockhart quipped, “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

Meng Shi said, “You should find the time gate down around Shu, in Qin territory.  Let me say, if you go through the city and stop in the market, I hope you don’t have to sneeze.”

“Why?” Decker asked.

Meng Shi grinned.  “About five years ago, a man in the market sneezed in front of a petty bureaucrat.  The bureaucrat complained that the man made the pomegranates wet.  He went home and wrote a rule that said you were not allowed to sneeze within twenty-feet of a market stall.  He had the man arrested.  He wanted the death penalty, and the judge said his hands were tied, because it was the rule.  I had to intervene.  I took them all to the market, got a feather, and tickled the bureaucrat’s nose until he sneezed.  Then I told the judge to pass the sentence.  Both cases were dropped, but the law is still on the books, so to speak.  So, if you go to the market in Shu, try not to sneeze.”

###

When they arrived in Xianyang, they quickly found the factory and warehouse where they were making the magic powder.  Meng Shi had the authority, being of the king’s court, to commandeer the house next door. Alexis, Lincoln, Millie, and Evan all protested, but Meng Shi already had his purse out.  He later mentioned that he gave the homeowner enough money to buy a new house, if that became necessary.

Elder Stow asked if he should get out his sonic device, but the day was on.  The sun got ready to set, and the factory appeared empty.  Meng Shi said he did not necessarily want to kill the workers, but they had to be sure the cowboys were there.  Lockhart added that this might be their one chance to capture the cowboys and put them out of business, permanently.  So, they waited.  They cooked what food they found, and had with them, and settled in for the night, sleeping on the floor, and watching out the windows.

When the dawn arrived, they watched the workers file into the buildings.  Decker imagined they were making a new batch of gunpowder for the wars ahead.  Katie voiced her reservations.

“I understand we have to catch the cowboys, but if we set off the black powder now, won’t we be killing mostly innocent workers?”

“I have asked Tien, my son, to protect the innocent,” Meng Shi responded.  “I have also asked him to search the minds of the people to see where the knowledge of making the gunpowder may have spread among the people.”

“Will he have to kill those people, too?” Katie asked.

“No, he can clean the memory, but you must understand.”  Meng Shi stepped over to the back door and called.  “Alexis, Sukki, and Lincoln,” he called, and they came in from the cooking fire in the back yard, to listen, so they all would hear and have no excuse. “We won’t always have the luxury of the gods to clean up the mess.  In situations like this, very often the innocent and guilty will die together. It can’t be helped. To delete the work of the masters, or whatever cowboys happen to wander through the field, sometimes the innocent will suffer.  Better you make peace with that thought now.  Alexis, better you get your tears and complaints out now and over with. Going forward, I may need all of you to do what must be done, regardless of who suffers.”

“Understood,” Decker said.

“Understood,” Lockhart agreed.

No one else said anything, except Boston, who raised her voice.  “We got company.”

People rushed to the widows.  They saw the two cowboys and a third man ride into an alleyway as soldiers began to fill the street.  The third man wore fancy silks, and Meng Shi named him.

“Li Si.  He is the king’s counselor.  He should not die.  For the rest of them, you need to defend the house.”

Decker shot out the window.  The soldier that appeared to be in charge and getting the little army ready to charge the house, collapsed.

“The homeowner turned us in,” Lockhart surmised.

“Probably figured to double his money,” Katie agreed.  Katie got her rifle, and Lockhart, his shotgun, and they took up the position to the right side of the door, opposite Decker.  Evan got Katie’s handgun and went to the door, beside Lincoln.  Li Si stood up in the alleyway and yelled at the soldiers.  One of the cowboys pulled him back down behind a box.

“Get ready,” Decker yelled, as Sukki stepped up beside him, holding Boston’s handgun.  Decker switched his rifle to automatic fire.  Katie had already done that.

The soldiers across the street appeared to take a deep breath, and prepared to attack, when Boston, holding Alexis’ hand and dragging her behind, stepped between Evan and Lincoln, and out the front door. She had her wand out, and used it like a flame thrower.  She laid down a line of fire in front of the soldiers, and burned many, including some in the face. The soldiers scattered. Some ran for their lives, but many backed up into the houses across the way.

Several arrows came from the archers on the roof across the street.  They struck the front of the house, but did not come near Boston.  One of the cowboys, however, fired his Winchester. Boston took a bullet in her shoulder and staggered back into the house, as Alexis pulled her to safety.

“Damn,” Boston griped as Alexis got to work.  She had Elder Stow’s device, which she ran over the wound.  The bullet pulled out and clattered on the floor.  Alexis laid hands on the wound, and a golden glow surrounded her hands and Boston’s shoulder.  Right away, the bleeding stopped and the wound began to close up.

“Get ready.”  Katie yelled it this time.  Sukki went back to stand behind Decker, after checking on Boston. Lockhart traded places with Evan. He made Evan back-up Katie with his pistol, while he held the shotgun by the door, ready for the charge.

“That feels better,” Boston said to Alexis.  She grabbed Alexis with her good hand and tried to catch Alexis’ eyes.  “You have to fire the explosive arrows.  You need to get the guys on the roof.”

“Shut-up,” Alexis told her.  “You need to relax to heal.”

“Puts.”

“What are they waiting for?” Evan asked.

Evan got the question out before he threw his hands to his ears.  Everyone covered their ears, and opened their mouths, Katie, Alexis, and Lockhart making a sound of surprise and pain at the same time.  Meng Shi stood by the window at the side of the house and held the sonic device.  He stuck it out the window, but turned it up all the way.

For a few seconds, only the sonic scream could be heard, before it got overshadowed with the sound of a massive explosion.  The warehouse blew up and became splinters, while the roof broke apart high in the sky. Shortly, the workhouse blew up. The buildings, what remained of them, burned in a great conflagration—an inferno that destroyed everything.  A couple of workers staggered out from the fire, but they were on fire, themselves, and quickly collapsed.

Meng Shi turned off the sonic device and handed it back to Elder Stow.  He had a tear in his eye, and Elder Stow accepted the device without a word.

As soon as the warehouse roof fell to the ground, to be consumed by the fire, and the screaming sonic device got turned off, the soldiers across the street vented their anger and fear with screams of hate.  They charged the house.  Guns blazed. Soldiers fell in the street by ones and in groups.  Two made it to the front door, only to be blown back by Lockhart’s shotgun.

The cowboys, Juan Reynard and Tom Porter used their Winchester repeaters sparingly.  They tried to keep back the travelers in the windows and door. Finally, Reynard stood to get a clear shot, and either Katie or Decker got him with three bullets, dead center. Reynard collapsed, and the outlaw, Porter, stood, red anger in his eyes, and emptied his Winchester.  He pulled his six-shooter, but took three bullets of his own, spun, and fell face down in the street.

Avalon 6.12 The Road Ahead, part 3 of 5

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Things did not go quite as smoothly as Meng Shi presented it to the captain.  Wang Jian refused to see him and sent word that if he discovered Meng Shi was in any way responsible for the ruin of the magic powder, Meng Shi’s life would be forfeit.

Meng Shi slowly led the travelers down the line, and found the body of young Billy Porter.  Boston cried.  She said she liked Billy.  Millie offered her thought.

“He was not just young, and innocent in a way. He was simple.  The kind of young man that might have benefited from some institutional help.”

No one said a hundred years after Millie lived, they got rid of those kinds of institutions.  Society no longer liked institutionalizing people, not to mention the expense.  Sadly, the result was such people, instead of being helped, they got discarded—basically, thrown away.  They often ended up homeless and living on the street.

They buried Billy right away, just before Alexis found one last barrel of unexploded gunpowder.  The soldiers driving the wagon became surprised when a giant gust of localized wind knocked that heavy barrel right off the wagon. It hit a rock and split wide open. It dumped more powder after the travelers got finished examining the evidence.  Then it seemed to set itself on fire.  No one could explain that.  It was not even near a campfire.  People ran away. but this time, it did not goBoom. It made something like a big Poof, and that was it.

Meng Wu only saw Meng Shi because they were related, but he said plainly that Meng Shi had to have something to do with the disaster.

“The famine is not an answer,” Meng Wu said, once he stopped yelling.  “Tell King Zheng he will have to do something better to break this stalemate.”

Meng Shi nodded.  “I will send word. Right now, I have to get back to Meng Yi in Anyi.  That is a stubborn, reluctant city, and your son Yi is still young and inexperienced.”

“I have every confidence in my boys,” Meng Wu said, and lifted his hand to the shoulder of his elder son, Tien. Tien at least had the kindness to wave good-bye.

###

Meng Shi and the travelers moved quickly from the Qin camp before Wang Jian changed his mind and the questions became too pointed.  They took Billy Porter’s horse, saddle, and guns.  Nothing from the future got left behind in the Qin camp.  It took a week from there to reach the city of Anyi, even traveling mostly on roads of a sort.  Meng Shi stayed quiet most of the way, but he did tell the travelers a couple of things.

“King Zheng will eventually conquer all of the other warring states and establish the Qin dynasty as the First Emperor, Qin Shi Huang-Di.”

“I’ve seen it mostly written Qin Shi Huang,” Katie said.  “Without the Di.”

“That is because he styled himself as a god-like king.  That is not a god-king, like in the Middle East or among some of the crazier Roman emperors.  He isn’t looking for the people to worship him, necessarily.  But he wants to be honored and revered, and his name to carry weight even in distant lands.  And he will not permit his decisions to be questioned.  The thing is, the people that come after him do not venerate him in that way.  His rule is rather harsh and cruel.  So mostly, they drop the god-connection.”

“Just as well,” Decker said.

“But he will succeed?” Millie said, like a question.

Meng Shi nodded.  “I have seen that level of intense, single-minded ambition a few times over my many lifetimes.  Alexander was that way.  Caesar, though he isn’t born yet.  Patton, mostly.  The thing is, King Zheng doesn’t need gunpowder added to the mix.”

“Gunpowder was a Chinese invention,” Evan pointed out.

“Yes, but not for another thousand years,” Meng Shi countered.

###

The next day, Katie woke up with a serious thought.  “I’m confused.  The way it was explained to me, you always have one or more future lives you remember, for example, you remember the twenty-first century where we come from. But the immediate future is unknown to you., or so you claim.  I have heard you say, the next hundred years are a mystery, because they are just now in the process of being written.”

“Your question?”

Katie took a moment to frame the question, and the people around the fire waited patiently.  “Qin Shi Huang will conquer the warring states, as you say.  If I did not know the history, exactly, I could read it in Lincoln’s database.  But that will happen in the next ten years or so, which is far less than the hundred years you say is a mystery to you.  How is it you know this?”

Meng Shi understood.  “Two reasons,” he said, and then framed his own thoughts. “First, I think by the grace of God, I always seem to know what does not belong in the time I am living, like gunpowder. Such things stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, and I get the overwhelming urge to do something about it.  Normally, I understand I am the only one who can do something about it.”

“Like, knowing us when we show up?” Boston said, putting it together in her own mind. “You always know us right away, because we don’t belong in this time period.”

Meng Shi agreed.  “Like knowing you.”  He smiled for Boston, and she returned the same.  “At whatever point in my life you find me, I remember who you are and what you are attempting to do.  I remember the time gates around this time zone; things I normally don’t know about, or at least have no reason to think about.  I remember some of your past journey, and some of your future, which I am not at liberty to talk about, and I remember the twentieth and twenty-first centuries which is your home.  Of course, after you leave, it becomes like real memory.  I remember you being here, and whatever time I spent with you, but I believe the deep past and future memories mostly fade, unless there is some reason to remember.”

“Okay,” Katie said.  “But that does not explain how you know about Qin Shi Huang. As I understand it, he does not take that name until after he finishes his conquests, ten years from now.”

Meng Shi sighed, like he did not really want to talk about it.  “Well, first, when something odd, like gunpowder shows up, I generally get glimpses of the broader picture surrounding the issue.  Maybe the best way I can explain it is I get like two competing visions of the immediate future.  I see one that feels right, even if King Zheng would not have been my pick to win the battle of the states.  Then, I see a vision with gunpowder, and eventually guns, and that feels terribly wrong. That is why I know I have to do something about the gunpowder, for example.”

“And the second reason?”  Katie asked.  “You said there were two reasons.”

Meng Shi frowned and stood.  “Sometimes, when I near the end of the life I am living, I glimpse some of the future, both of the life I am currently living, when work is unfinished, and some inkling of the life to come.”  He stepped away from the fire and toward his horse, and mumbled. “I feel I may be a woman next time. I will have to ask my wife about that.”

###

No one dared ask Meng Shi what he meant about the end of his life until two days later at supper.  Lincoln said Meng Shi could not be over forty. “Thirty-eight or so.  I read the years in the database and did the math.

“Forty is plenty old for this day and age,” Meng Shi countered.  “But I know what you mean.  Still, I am not immune from diseases or accidents.”

“Maybe you will die in battle,” Decker said.

Meng Shi appeared to think about it, but ended up shaking his head, no.  “Not battle, but I sense violence.”

Lockhart added what had been on his mind. “You said even without gunpowder, your king will conquer the other kingdoms in this land.  Some connection to all that fighting would be a reasonable guess.”

“Stop being morbid,” Alexis complained. “You are talking about the man’s death.”

“I am certain King Zheng will find a way to win,” Meng Shi said.  “But I won’t be there to see it.”

“Why do you feel that way?” Alexis asked for his opinion, and people sat up to pay close attention.

“It is complicated.  There is a servant of the masters in the capitol. He is introducing germ warfare. He is growing bacteria—some disease.”

“Any idea what?” Alexis the nurse asked.

“Plague of some kind, you can be sure. But what is worse, he has captured the ear of the king with talk about being alive two thousand years in the future. Now, you know, like me, he will die and be reborn in the future… This is complicated.”

“Who are the Masters?” Millie asked.

“Demons from Hell,” Meng Shi answered, but he grinned.  “No.  Mostly I refer to them as the enemy from the future. I assume some people in the far future don’t like the way things turned out and are determined to change history. Somehow, they know about my many lifetimes, and figured out a way to give a future life to various people scattered throughout history.  These servants of the Masters then train and teach the future life, to give the skill necessary to accomplish certain tasks in the past life, as the two lives link in time and information gets shared between the two lifetimes.”

“Like what?” Millie asked.

“Like assassination, or developing some plague.  Early gunpowder, guns, and weapons of mass destruction is something that the Masters are usually involved with.  And it is all for the purpose of changing history, to make it turn out more the way they want.”

“So, there are people who have another life in history after all,” Katie said.

“And not all servants of the Masters. My own friends in the future, as I sometimes call them, have similarly given a second life, or even a third life to some people who have been a tremendous help at certain critical points in history.  There is, however, a limit on how many times a person can be reborn in that way.  I manage almost a hundred and fifty lifetimes, because there are no great gaps between lives.  At least, I don’t think so.  Also, when I was made, I had all the genetic material for a man and a woman, but all jumbled up in one person, me.  The ancient god, Cronos, figured out how to make that work, so I could be born.  Fortunately, my friends in the future that took over the work decided it would work better if I took turns, more or less, between male and female. I think being both makes me more of a complete person, like the first Adam before the woman and man became separated.  As long as I stay more or less balanced between male and female, like the two sides of the same coin, I might be reborn forever.  God, I hope not.  But for most one-sided people, too many times in a row as the same sex, and a person becomes mentally unhinged, among other things.”

“That would not be good,” Boston said.

Meng Shi shook his head.  “I think Rasputin was his seventh rebirth, and he was loony as a dodo.

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

MONDAY

The gunpowder factory needs to be shut down, and the cowboy-outlaws need to be stopped.  Monday.  Until then, Happy Reading.

*

Avalon 6.12 The Road Ahead, part 2 of 5

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Alexis asked one question in the morning. “When was the last time we were in China?”

Lincoln looked it up and rattled off the answer.  “We were in Tibet about three hundred years ago.  But Rajish came from India, so that might not count.  China proper, at least on the Wei River, we found Shang Feyan in the days when the Zhou overthrew the Shang.  That was more than seven hundred years ago.  Before that was Yu Huang in the sacred mountain, after the Shang took over from the Hsia. Then Lin—Chin Shao Lin, founder of the Hsia Dynasty, and before that, Nuwa.”  He stopped.

“How long ago was Nuwa?” Katie wondered.

“About twenty-five hundred and maybe forty years ago.  Call it twenty-five fifty.”

“I remember the hoopers,” Lockhart said.

Decker let out a small, “Haw”.

“Nuwa is my friend,” Boston said. “The dragon, I mean.  I love my goddess.”

Jing Ke swallowed his breakfast and got that old look on his face.  “You know Nuwa?”

“We met,” Katie said.  “She traveled with us for a few days, but she was very busy.  The sky fell, you know.”

“She certainly knows us,” Lockhart added, and felt the nudge which he was learning was wife-speak for shut-up.

Jing Ke looked at the woods and the horses.  “There is a mountain,” he said. “It is not far from Handan.  They say it is the place where Nuwa fixed the sky.”

“She made the Pendratti and Sevarese go away in their space ships and reestablished Earth as a no-fly zone,” Lincoln told Evan and Millie, and he supposed Sukki, too.  Jing Ke shook his head, like maybe Lincoln said that in French, for all he understood.

“Pack it up.  Get the horses.  Time to move.”  Lockhart got up and changed the subject.

Boston had one thing to add before she rode out ahead.  “You know, we’ve been in this time zone ten whole days, and nobody has yet tried to kill us, or anything.”

“Boston!”  Alexis yelled at her, but it was too late.  Sure enough, they did not get out of the woods before they became surrounded by a hundred soldiers.

The travelers had to get down and walk their horses, under escort, with soldiers on both sides.  When they came out of the woods, they saw a great wall and two forts, one near and one barely discernable in the distance.  It was not a great wall of China wall, but it looked like a serious obstacle for any opposing army that carried only swords and spears.  That opposing army appeared spread out in tents that stretched to the horizon.  The Zhao army had their own tents behind the wall, where the travelers walked.  Jing Ke dared to speak to Lockhart, and Katie while they walked.

“Li Mu took the year of the earthquake and the year of famine to build his fortifications.  I understand he used every natural resource in the landscape he could, like rivers, mountains, and forests.  He did not dare spread his men too thin, but patrols, like this one, keep a watch on all ways.”

Lockhart understood, but Katie added her own thought.  “Thermopylae is a natural choke point.  Three hundred Spartans can hold it, as long as the enemy does not discover the secret path over the mountains.”

An hour later, they entered the fort and left their horses on the ground. Decker had his binoculars and the scope for his rifle.  Lockhart grabbed the other pair of binoculars and Katie got her scope, and they climbed up to the wall, now seriously guarded.  They left all their knives with the horses, but they took the handguns, plus Decker and Katie carried their rifles.  Lockhart slipped the shotgun on his shoulder, and they climbed the stairs.

The travelers got stopped not far down the wall, as the captain stepped forward.  He whispered to one of the middle-aged men, and stood back.  An older man stood there leaning on a cane, not due to his age, but seemingly from a wound that appeared mostly healed.  A third man, maybe forty or so, continued to look out on the enemy, but the first two turned on the travelers.  The middle-aged man spoke.

“If you are spies sent by the Qin to test our defenses, speak plainly.  You have been caught.  You will be locked away, but at least you will not be tortured.”  He paused, and took a closer look at the group.  “You are strange looking people.  What are they growing in Qin?”

“We are not spies,” Lockhart responded calmly.  “We are not native to any of the lands here.  We are travelers who have come a long way and still have a long way to go.”

The middle-aged man prepared to speak again, but Jing Ke stepped forward and interrupted.  “I am Jing Ke, servant of King Xi of Yan.  We left Yan ten days ago to come to you.  Yan has no army to send at this time, but I have been instructed to see if there may be other ways we may provide for your relief.  I was told to speak to Guo Kai, to see if there is some way, in my king’s name, I can help find a path to peace.”

The old man laughed, and the middle-aged one growled.  “Twice, now, in the same day I have been presented with words impossible to verify. This one speaks of a magic powder in the hands of the Qin that will make holes in our wall.  And now, you say you have been sent from Yan to speak of peace. Are all of you from Yan?  I have never seen yellow hair before.”

“Not much of a spy,” Alexis said softly to Jing Ke.  He responded, like it did not matter.

“I have watched you in these past ten days and heard you speak openly and honestly about things no one on this earth could possibly know.  But I believe you, and I have learned that sometimes honesty can get more of the truth of the matter than subterfuge will ever know.  My king can do little right now, but he genuinely wants to help.  It may be for selfish reasons, to put off the invasion of his own land for as long as possible, but what difference does that make if I can help.  Maybe I can find that elusive path to peace.  Who can say?”

“Wait.  There is more.  Let me show you,” The third man said as he turned at last to face the group.  “Lockhart, lend me the binoculars,” he said, before he opened his arms and said, “Boston.”

Boston had a man holding her arm and holding a sword by her side.  Boston slipped from the arm and raced into the hug before that man could otherwise move. The man who spoke, clearly, the Kairos Meng Shi, removed Boston’s glamour so she stood there in all her elfish glory.

“Now I feel kinda naked,” she said.

“Hush,” Meng Shi said.  “Tell me what you see.  I am looking for barrels of black powder.  I followed one of the outlaws, and a whole troop of wagons to this place, but lost them in the camp.  I am sure they have brought them to Wang Jian and my cousin, Meng Wu.  I am sure it is only a matter of time before they bring them forward and boom, no more wall.”

The old man laughed again on seeing the elf, but the middle-aged man found his voice after his initial shock. “That would be a disaster.  They have twice our number.  We are barely able to hold this strong defensive position.”

Meng Shi introduced the other two men. “Li Mu, general in charge, and my laughing friend is his assistant, general Sima Shang.  Sima Shang has the defense against the south and came up here for a strategy session.”

Katie and Decker already started looking through their scopes.  Elder Stow also got his goggles, and the soldiers backed off a little, but stayed ready.

“Li Mu.  I am honored,” Jing Ke said, and made an appropriate bow.  “These travelers have been sent by the gods. You have heard the demon guardian from the burning court of Diyu speak.  They have all been empowered by the gods to find the three evil ones making the magic powder, and stop them, by sending them back to the land of torment.”

On the mention of the Chinese hell, the guards took another step back.  One looked ready to run, but his fellow guards held him in place.

Lockhart handed Meng Shi the glasses and spoke on the strategy meeting.  “If they break through the wall, no strategy meeting will help much. You will mostly have screaming and panic.”

“There,” Lincoln shouted and pointed. “One of the cowboys.”

Meng Shi tried to look where Lincoln looked.  He said, “Elder Stow.  Can you scan the line there and see where they may have brought up the barrels of powder?”

“Of course,” he said, and removed his goggles to give them to Evan.  He pulled out his scanner, and shortly projected a holographic image of the line, with yellow dots indicating where the gunpowder barrels stood, several together, in several locations down the line.

“I would say they are preparing to move,” Decker said.

“Definitely,” Katie confirmed his assessment.

“Quick,” Meng Shi moved down the wall toward the travelers.  “Elder Stow, your sonic device.”  He held out his hand and Elder Stow handed over the device before he thought about it. Meng Shi turned up the device to full power, and pointed it at the line.  It would drain fast, but he hoped it would do the trick.  “Hold your ears,” he said, and let it rip.  People shouted, screamed, and threw their hands up to cover their ears.  A few fell to roll on the ground in agony.  One by one, the stacks of powder exploded, as Meng Shi turned the device to point at each stack that showed on Elder Stow’s projection.  Even with the naked eye, they saw men, animals, tents, campfires, and everything else, including bushes and trees get tossed and broken.  They heard the thunder and saw the tremendous plumes of fire and smoke rise up into the sky.

Then the screeching whine stopped as suddenly as it started, and Meng Shi said, “We need to get down there and make sure they all got destroyed.”

Li Mu, who grabbed the edge of the wall and left his mouth hanging open, turned quickly and said, “Wait.”

Meng Shi responded before the general could form a clear thought.  “What? Are you going to go there and make sure they all got destroyed?  You going to send your army?”

Li Mu took a step back and waved him off. “No.  I understand.”

“You’re welcome,” Meng Shi said, and guided the others to the stairs

“Take my horse,” Jing Ke shouted.

“No,” Meng Shi shouted back.  “Your horse blanket proves you are from Yen. Li Mu has horses below, including the one I came on.  If I can’t find mine, I’ll take one of his.  Call it an even exchange.”

Li Mu nodded and waved for the Captain to get Meng Shi a horse.

When the captain caught up, he said, “But aren’t you afraid they will kill you for destroying their surprise and killing so many?”

“I did what?”  Meng Shi smiled while men prepared his horse and the travelers got ready to ride.  “Li Mu turned down my proposal, that since the famine last year, his food stores must be running low, so Wang Jian would graciously accept an honorable surrender.”

“But no,” the captain said.  “The spring crops were good and the summer harvest looks to be bountiful.”

“Do, you see?  I got turned down and I prepared to leave, when I found my friends, here, captured by a hundred of Zhao’s finest.  Suddenly, everything began to blow up, and we raced to safety in all the confusion.”

Meng Shi mounted and the captain hurried them out the gate.