Storytelling,

Fantasy, Science Fiction, Fiction,

Golden Door Chapter 15 Chris in the Camp, part 1 of 2

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“Chris!” Chris heard his name and was grateful for the excuse to turn away from the melted creature. “You gotta be Chris!”

“Redeyes!” Heathfire identified the caller as she stepped up to help Chris back to his feet. Chris was more than glad to get away from the huge fellow with the big teeth.

“Chris!” A red face ran up the beach while a hand with rather remarkable claws waved. Heathfire snuggled against Chris’ shoulder and pointed. “Heathfire, leave him alone!” Redeyes hollered.

“What if I don’t want to?” Heathfire hollered back. Chris thought the wisest move was to let go of Heathfire’s hand and step away. He certainly did not want to start anything.

“Hey,” Redeyes said like a simple hello when he came to a screeching stop in front of Chris. Broomwick came up, grabbed Heathfire’s hand and gave Chris a jealous look. Chris put his hands up in surrender.

“Too hot for me to handle,” he said, and Broomwick smiled.

“She is that.”

“I must be losing my touch.” Heathfire commented to herself,

“The ship?” Deathwalker changed the subject from teenage foolishness.

“Fine. Hidden just down the shore,” Redeyes reported while Chris got a good look at the goblin. Redeyes had pink skin around those red, beady eyes, and two little red horns that stuck up through black hair. Chris could not help bending over, as he had with Deathwalker, to see if the goblin had the tail to complete the outfit. He did not.

“All right, Chris,” Deathwalker said as he placed his own claw on Chris’ shoulder. “Redeyes and Crusher.” He introduced the two newcomers and added one note. “Crusher is a troll.”

“Troll?” Chris asked, remembering they had traveled down a troll road.

Crusher got close to Chris’ face so he could not turn away, and he drooled a little as he spoke. “That just means I like my meat more raw.”

Chris returned his trademark grin, the same one he used on his younger brothers or when his parents asked him to do something around the house. It was Crusher who had to turn away. “Bless my stinky feet. That grin could scare a basilisk.”

“But where is the rest of the crew?” Deathwalker once again attempted to get people back on topic.

“Guarding the ship,” Redeyes responded, and he led the way. Until then, Redeyes kept standing on his toes. Being a bit short, he wanted to appear more Chris’ height. Oddly enough, Chris found that comforting as it reminded him of a short friend that lived down the street.

Deathwalker paced Chris and whispered as they walked, not that he thought the others might not hear, but to indicate that this was supposed to be private, so they all better keep their mouths shut. “Now, I don’t want you to be shocked when you meet the others. Stalker is more of a true goblin, you might say. His face is so dark it is hard to see his features apart from the glowing yellow eyes. He is a quiet one, but one Alice picked.”

“Alice?” Chris asked. “You planned all this ahead of time, didn’t you?” Chris just figured that out.

“Lady Alice did,” Deathwalker said and then clarified. “Your father. She brought me together with these young ones, more your age, give or take. She found us the boat and then she brought me safe to the others in the Golden Door. She said we had to pray for help, and not to her. She figured out that given the chance, you children would follow your mother into Avalon.”

Chris merely nodded. He had met the Lady Alice.

“Oh, and one more thing. Watcher is a hobgoblin. Watch out for him that he doesn’t steal your shirt. Most of our kind don’t care for the hobs much.”

Chris nodded again, but before he could ask what was wrong with the hobgoblins, they arrived and climbed aboard a small steamboat. Chris had recently seen the movie the African Queen, and thought this boat looked similar. Apart from the furnace amid ship that ran the small paddles on each side, it also had a small rigging for a sail and oars as a last resort. Chris imagined being reluctant if they were headed toward the ocean, but even with his dark elf enhanced senses, though he could not tell how far it was to the castle, he thought it was relatively close, and this underground lake, as big as it was, might be passable in that little ship.

“Here.” Chris heard a female voice and looked up to see her tap the seat beside herself. It was a young girl about Chris’ age, very pretty, and apart from her silver hair she appeared utterly human. Then the woman licked her upper lip with a long and decidedly forked tongue, and Chris knew better.

“Come on up front,” Redeyes encouraged Chris to follow, but he preferred the back, sat opposite the silver haired girl and only then realized that put him close to Crusher who stood on the tiller.

“Silverstain,” the girl said and put out her hand to shake. She smiled. She had ordinary enough hands and Chris decided the teeth were not too sharp. He reached across the boat to shake, but immediately found Redeyes on one side and an unknown on his other. He guessed the unknown was Watcher. The hobgoblin still had a bit of a goblin look about him, only not so much, and his ears were pointed, more like Inaros the elf.

Chris felt trapped and knew he would have both of his ears talked off for the journey, and now it was too late to change his mind. Stalker, the dark one with the yellow eyes took the seat beside Silverstain.

Heathfire caught the look between Chris and Silverstain and it was one look on two faces. She sighed. “I guess I better get this tub moving.”

“Can I come?” Broomwick asked permission and Heathfire teased him. She pretended to think about it.

“Okay,” she said at last, and smiled for the sprite. Chris watched as they both turned utterly to flame and shot into the furnace. It only took a moment after that to steam up and begin moving.

Deathwalker paced up front, marked their passage and communicated somehow with the troll on the tiller. Crusher got the messages and adjusted their course as needed, but that did not keep him from the conversation. Most of it was about raw meat and rock music. Crusher remembered Big Sur. Redeyes went to Woodstock. Chris dared not ask them how old they were; besides, his eyes kept returning to Silverstain even as his ears tuned out the topic of NASCAR. Redeyes finally noticed.

“My little sister,” he pointed at the girl. She looked up and Chris offered his grin, but she shook her head, sadly.

“You need the teeth,” she said before she stood and hauled Chris to his feet. “Hey Deathwalker,” she raised her voice. “I just realized. Chris can’t go into the castle looking all human, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

 Deathwalker turned to the group. Everyone stared at each other, dumbfounded, when he said, “Frightening aspect.”

“Will it hurt?” Chris asked as soon as the rest of the crew stood, grinned evilly and surrounded him in a threatening manner.

“No,” Mister Walker said. “At least I don’t think so,” and Chris ducked. Everyone roared and squealed and howled the most frightening noises, and they pelted him with whatever dirt and grime they could reach. Crusher slapped the back of his head with a piece of raw meat the troll had been chewing on. Then Silverstain stepped up and grabbed him around the middle. She pressed her lips against his and wrapped her long, forked tongue around his even as he felt his own tongue wrap around hers. She had something to say when they separated.

“Wow.”

“Want to go with me to the Prom?”

“Absolutely.”

Both grinned, when there was an explosion far to starboard, against the far wall of the huge cavern. The water began to churn.  Everyone had to sit or fall over. Stones began to drop from the impossibly high ceiling. A few boulders just missed the boat but struck the water near enough to send great splashes up on to the deck. A second explosion brought a light, as a great yellow-orange crack opened in that far wall. It lit up a great cloud of something black and moving that spread out from the explosion and headed in their direction. The crack itself looked like an open wound leaking down the wall and into the underground sea. Where the light touched the water, another cloud rose up and it also began to creep though the cavern.

Everyone started shouting and held on to something. Deathwalker staggered up to the tiller where he began to yell. “Turn it into the light! Turn the boat toward the light!”

Watcher, the hobgoblin pulled a hood over his head and tried to make himself as small as possible in his seat, but Stalker with the dark face and yellow eyes stood and grabbed Redeyes by the hand. Chris and Silverstain were still standing and holding on to each other as Stalker grabbed Silverstain’s hand. He joined Silverstain’s and Redeye’s hands and put one claw over top of the two. He put his other claw on Chris’ head, drew close to Chris’ stunned, unmoving face, and exhaled a great breath.

Chris caught the exhale full force. It stung his eyes, burned in his nose and down in his lungs, and tasted like rotten eggs in his mouth. Chris hacked and coughed as the three goblins backed up. Redeyes dropped his sister’s hand when Stalker let go and spoke in a voice as chilling as expected from a goblin.

“Now, no matter how toxic or poisonous the air, he will still be able to breathe.”

The boat shook, and everyone dropped to the deck and held on for dear life. The ship tilted left and then right, took on water from both sides, but not quite enough to swamp them. Chris worried briefly about Heathfire and Broomwick in the furnace. He feared enough water to put the furnace out might kill the fire sprites. But then he had no time to think as he wrapped his arms around the chair leg that was fastened to the deck, and Silverstain crawled up to wrap around him. They were pointed toward the light, a volcanic crack in the wall, and just in time. The first big wave came upon them.

The ship rose up and up at a precipitous angle to where Chris almost felt like he was standing upright. It flattened out again suddenly and with a crash on to the top of the wave before it shot down the back side of the water in one great rush. There came a moment of calm at the bottom of the wave.

“More waves coming!” Deathwalker shouted.

“Let’s do it again,” Silverstain whispered in Chris’ ear, and she licked his ear with that long, forked tongue. Chris licked his own nose with his own forked tongue and wondered what his grin looked like with his new, sharp teeth.

Golden Door Chapter 14 James and the Ogre, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

James felt groggy, but he only had to sit down for a few minutes in the rain. The ogre, and that was what it was, apparently suffered the worst of it, being thrown back by the blue lightening to crash into the cave wall. Luckily, ogres are very hard to damage, and he rather damaged the stone wall of the cave.

“Are you all right?” Grubby asked James in most uncharacteristically impish fashion. Nature would have had an imp rolling on the floor with laughter over such an encounter, but James was the son of the Kairos.

James nodded, though one hand stayed on his head. The ogre shook his head and spoke. “That little guy is powerful. I never been beat up before.”

“First time for everything,” Grubby said, and puffed out his chest a little. “Storyteller’s son.”

“But my Ma and Da said to watch the cave and don’t let in strangers.

“His name’s James. Now he’s not a stranger.”

“At least not any stranger than you guys,” James mumbled while Grubby helped him to his feet and got him out of the rain. It looked ready to pour.

“James.” The ogre caught that much. “Good to meet you.” Warthead stuck out his tremendous hand and James’ hand got completely swallowed up in the big mitt. He would have been better to shake one of Warthead’s fingers. But then, James watched the handshake because he could hardly look at the ugly puss of the ogre, and besides, he did not feel altogether certain if there might be more blue lightening. It turned out to be safe enough, and James could not imagine anything more special than making friends with an ogre, so he looked up at last, but when the ogre smiled in delight, James had to quickly look away to avoid throwing up.

“Ma and Da aren’t here,” Warthead repeated himself in his gravel-deep voice. “They gone up to the castle for special visitor, I think. I don’t rightly remember.”

“Woah!” Grubby was by the entrance to the cave. “There must be a monster storm coming. Listen to that thunder.” They heard a dull roar in the distance, but it was growing. James paid close attention and after a moment he voiced his skepticism.

“I don’t think that is thunder,” he said.

Warthead, who was not particularly able to follow their thoughts, looked around instead and pointed at something else. “Spiders.” Grubby and James looked quickly. They were at the bottom of the mountain, quite a long way, but obviously excited as if sensing they were getting close to their prey. They began to climb the hill at a rapid pace.

“James!” The word came wafting down from above with the wind and the rain.

“James!” It was Mrs. Copperpot, Picker and Poker.

“Grubby! James!” Pug was with them, and the trio in the cave had to go outside to look up.

They were soon spotted, though the dwarfs and the gnome were quite high up the mountainside above them. “Up here, James. Quick! Tsunami!” Pug pointed in the direction of the roar which was becoming very pronounced. They began to hear trees crash in the wave.

James looked for a way, but there was no easy way. The cave was carved out of a small cliff. Meanwhile, Warthead scratched his head and Grubby had his eyes glued on the spiders. He saw when they abandoned the rush up the hill and began climbing trees in an attempt to get above the onrushing water.

“Hurry James!”

“There’s no way up!” James shouted.

Grubby picked up a stone and threw it at a spider which was ahead of its fellows. It cracked against the spider’s back but did no real damage. James spun around to see. The spider was almost as big as him, and he might have screamed at the sight if the water did not come first. With a great roar and something like the sound of freight trains, the wave crashed through the last trees like a flood breaking through a levy.

“Water!” James shouted, and Warthead moved. He grabbed Grubby in one big paw and James in the other and stretched his arms as high in the air as he could, which was almost high enough for James to reach the rock ledge above the cave mouth, but not quite.

“Spider!” Grubby shouted, as the water quickly rose above the ogre’s mouth. A spider had made the jump to Warthead’s arm and zeroed in on James. James panicked, but tried kicking first, and to his surprise, he caved in the beast’s head in a way that Grubby’s stone had not. A second kick sent the spider flying off into the drink, as the water was now up to Warthead’s elbows. It actually reached to his upraised wrists, and the water stayed up for a few minutes before it began to recede almost as fast as it came in. James understood that if the tidal water did not drown them or crash them and crush their bones against something hard while coming in, it could still do the same, or drag them for miles on the way out, and just as easily.

The time went by slowly, slow enough for Pug and Mrs. Copperpot to climb down almost within reach. Mrs. Copperpot looked full of fret and worry, but Pug seemed a rock of calm and kept assuring them that everything was going to be all right.

Warthead stood that whole time with his arms raised straight up to keep Grubby and James above the water. James felt a little surprised the ogre was not brushed aside in that torrent, but he was not. He stood like the stones themselves, unmoving, even long after James imagined the poor ogre drowned and had to be dead and gone. As the water went down somewhat slowly, it felt agonizing to watch the big creature, hoping against hope for signs of life. When the water was once again below the chin and it started to pick up the pace of retreat, Warthead looked like no more than a statue, and James imagined he might stand in that pose for a thousand years. He wanted to cry, and Mrs. Copperpot did not help with her words about the ogre’s bravery and heroic stand. Then Warthead shook his head and opened his eyes.

“Warthead!” James and Grubby shouted together.

“Are the spiders gone?” Warthead asked. “That one tickled and I almost laughed.”

“But how did you?” James could not decide what to ask. “The water was up for a half hour at least, or twenty minutes or more. How?”

“I held my breath,” Warthead said, in an intuitive moment—a very rare thing in an ogre.

“Good choice.” Grubby praised the ogre’s thinking. It was a fifty-fifty proposition of Warthead coming up with the notion of holding his breath underwater.

James twisted his face. “I thought after so many minutes without oxygen the brain cells started dying.”

“No fear of that,” Grubby said, and waved off the whole problem with his hand. “He hasn’t got any to lose.”

Warthead grinned and nodded and began to wonder why he kept holding his arms straight up in the air.

It was still an hour or more before Picker and Poker found a way down from above and the water went down enough to gather in the cave entrance. The others were a bit leery of the ogre, but he seemed such a good fellow, and Mrs. Copperpot recognized how young he was. Why, converted to human ages, she imagined that Warthead might be the youngest of the lot, despite his hulking size.

“You know,” she said, as she sighed and accepted that she now had five, a full handful of boys to watch. “Now that the spiders are washed away, the path to the gate should be open.”

“At least for a little while.” Pug agreed. “And we ought to go before it gets dark.”

Mrs. Copperpot looked up at the sky where there was a genuine stroke of lightning and boom of thunder, and the rain began to strengthen. “Yes.” She agreed, before she added, “And I don’t like the look of that sky.”

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

MONDAY

Chris boards the ship to cross the underground sea but the cavern wall cracks and the volcano bring up a monster from the deep while Beth flies above it all and gets to taste sweet puffberries. Until Monday. Happy Reading

*

Golden Door Chapter 14 James and the Ogre, part 2 of 3

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“Look.” Picker pointed to the sky. They saw shadows now and then since about mid-day, observable even in the darkening sky. Everyone looked. Something paced them, flying overhead, and likely several somethings, but it seemed impossible to tell what by looking up through the trees.

“I don’t like the looks of that sky.” Mrs. Copperpot repeated her comment from earlier, and while James agreed that the heavy, dark clouds closing in overhead did not look good, he now realized that even her earlier comment had been intended to disguise the fact that she saw something overhead, shadowing them. No doubt, she did not want to frighten James, as if anything could be more frightening than those snakes.

“Shh!” Pug stopped their progress. They heard a clicking sound ahead. “That’s new here,” he said. “But I am not sure what it is.”

“Not animal?” Mrs. Copperpot asked with some surprise. She felt that surely the gnome would have been aware of any animal that might make that sound.

“Not machine.” James breathed in his quietest voice. At least not any machine sound he ever heard. This click-clicksounded like someone tapping sticks together, and he said not machine because he kept trying to think of what, other than an animal, might make such a sound.

Click-click. It became pronounced, and they began to hear a kind of chittering with it. It sounded like a hundred squirrels tapping their teeth all at the same time.

“Better wait here while I check see.” Pug said, and not even Mrs. Copperpot would argue with that good advice.

They waited for what seemed like a long time, but what was probably a rather short time. The clicking never went away, though it did not sound like it got any closer. The chittering sound came and went, but it also seemed to keep its distance. Then there came a terrible crashing though the bushes, and James and the boys backed up and prepared to climb or run behind trees, while Mrs. Copperpot pulled out her magical spoon, apparently, her only weapon. What came from the woods was a great bear, and it reared up momentarily as it reached the path. Mrs. Copperpot almost did something to the beast but held back just long enough to see the beast return to all fours and Pug seated firmly on the beast’s neck. Even as Pug shouted, Mrs. Copperpot already scooped up Picker and Poker, one for each arm, who protested being treated like sacks of flower.

“Hurry! Get up! Spiders coming!” Those were Pug’s words and all the explanation they needed. Mrs. Copperpot leapt on the bear’s back and James climbed most of the way up, holding on to Mrs. Copperpot’s dress as the bear passed by, but barely paused. Only Grubby looked close to missing the ride.

“Wait up!” Grubby yelled, but Pug would not stop, and neither would the bear as the clicking and chittering sound came suddenly much nearer.

“Grubby!” James yelled back and grabbing tight with one hand to a great tuft of bear hair, which the bear hardly felt, he reached his other hand out and back as far as he could. Grubby ran, and in one great effort of speed, he managed to grab hold of James’ hand. They rode that way for a little bit as the sound of clicking and chittering receded into the distance. Grubby bounced on his feet like a frog while James held on as well as he could, but for all their effort, the imp seemed unable to get up on the bear’s rump. Finally, James thought to slide back a little to better help the imp, only his grip on the bear’s back slipped altogether and both he and Grubby went teetering off into the bushes. The bear did not stop. The twins kept yelling and so they likely did not hear the boys fall, and neither did they see them, looking only ahead toward safety.

“Ugh!” Grubby rubbed his head. “I think I smashed into the tree, but lucky it was only my head.”

James also moaned, but he had crashed into a bush, which frankly, broke his fall. Otherwise, he certainly would have broken something else. “Where are we?” James looked back to be sure they were out of range of the spiders, even as he got slowly to his feet. Grubby took a good look around.

“I think I know,” he said. “This is the ogre way. Come on. I’ll introduce you to a friend of mine.” Grubby also looked back in the spider direction. “We better hurry,” he added as he started off at a good pace. James had to hustle, but he felt well worn by then and could not really keep up with the imp who might not have had elf speed, but certainly moved faster at a jog than James could run.

“Wait up.” James had to call after a little way, but Grubby did not hear or did not listen. James stopped anyway, put his hands on his knees, and took a number of deep breaths. It did not take long for the young man to recover, but he thought he better walk after that, at least for a little while.

James did not feel happy about being left alone in the woods again, especially on the edge of the Craggy Mountains and ogre land. Then again, he had never seen an ogre. He had seen spiders and imagined they were giant spiders, so he really had no choice in the direction he went. He came to the first stone filled rise almost immediately, and he thought he saw where the path wound its way up between the stones; but it appeared hard to tell. He decided to sniff. He looked for Grubby and figured that Mrs. Copperpot and the others were likely out of range by then. This time he decided to trust his sixth sense.

“A little to the left,” he said out loud to himself.  It appeared as if Grubby had deviated off the main path about halfway up the rise. James began to climb, sometimes needing his hands to help pull himself up, and in this way he eventually came to where a smaller path separated from the main ogre way. “Grubby,” he said out loud, pointed down the smaller path and started out that way without hesitation.

The way remained rough, mostly up hill, and James began to wonder if maybe he was in the mountains already. He finally had to stop and sit on a rock for a fifteen-minute break. Of course, he saw the shadows pass overhead the minute he stopped, but he ignored them with the hope that they would go away. When they did not, he moved on, thinking that his break seemed like a very short fifteen minutes.

James paused. He raised his head and sniffed, almost without thinking about it. His mind kept thinking of Grubby and he felt a strong sense that Grubby was close, up off the left-hand side of the trail. Not far from there, he came to a place on the side of the mountain covered with stone and the occasional hardy bush. He found a cave a little bit further up the side, and it looked dark. James looked overhead. The sky also seriously started darkening now, like it might start raining at any moment. James tried to convince himself that the cave looked dark because of the sky. Then a few drops of water fell on his head, and he decided he had no choice. He did not realize that Grubby was still pulling him forward.

James got to the cave entrance before the downpour started, and then he heard a voice.

“Who is the stranger in my door.” The voice sounded terribly deep and frightening to hear. James dutifully screamed.

The deep voice screamed in echo of James’ sentiment, and James caught a glimpse of a giant who put his hands to his ears while James started to scramble away. Unfortunately, the rocky side of the hill had not been designed for a rapid escape. A giant fist shot out of the cave, right over James’ head, and would have smashed James flatter than a cracker if it hadn’t bounced off. There were great blue sparks, like lightening, that passed between the giant’s fist and the boy’s head. At the same time, Grubby hollered as loud as he could.

“No, Warthead! No!” He yelled too late.

Golden Door Chapter 14 James and the Ogre, part 1 of 3

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 “Step up. Keep close.” Mrs. Copperpot said over her shoulder. The twins hustled up. James and Grubby brought up the rear. “I don’t like the look of that darkening sky.” Mrs. Copperpot said, a bit more softly.

“Me neither.” Picker and Poker spoke in unison.

James looked, but he had no way of judging the sky except to say it looked like it might rain. He looked at Grubby, but Grubby ignored everyone.

“The twins are dwarfs?” James tried to make conversation.

“Yep,” Grubby responded to James’ question. “But I don’t hold that against them.”

“And you’re an imp.” James tried again.

”Yep,” Grubby said, and he puffed out his chest a little, but said no more.

James fell silent. He was naturally quiet and somewhat shy, so it felt easy to concentrate on walking and ignore the others. Besides, he had walked all morning and started to get tired and ready for a bite to eat, if anything should be available. He decided to save his breath and keep watch on the woods. Fortunately, Mrs. Copperpot picked up the string of the idea.

“But all young boys have a little imp in them, I think. Isn’t that right, James?” James nodded, but when he said nothing out loud, Mrs. Copperpot changed the subject. “We will come to a cross path in a minute if I’ve judged correctly. To our right, and not very far at all, we would find the Craggy Mountains where the ogres make their homes, but straight on, we should come to a little used back door to the castle, like a postern gate. If I remember, it leads to the third court by the bailiff’s tower, and I imagine it might be a door that the goddess has ignored if she even knows about it. I could not have chosen a better gate for our chances if I had thought all day.” Mrs. Copperpot sounded happy, but the boys had no way of judging. They would have to wait and see. “And here we are.” Mrs. Copperpot finished and stopped which brought them all to a halt. She pointed down a very wide, but leafy and overgrown path which James imagined led to the ogres. He did not want to go that way.

“I’m hungry,” Picker said, as soon as they stopped, and Poker agreed.

“I could go for a bite,” Grubby admitted.

“James?” Mrs. Copperpot asked, but again James merely nodded and verbalized nothing. “Then I think we might do lunch. Once we get into the thick there is no telling when we will have time for another meal. She sent the boys to collect firewood and somehow found a copper pot almost big enough for James to sit in. James wondered how she could have carried that without his noticing, or if perhaps she produced it by some magic. Mrs. Copperpot filled it with water from a nearby stream. By the time the fire got started, she started stirring something in the pot with her cooking spoon. James decided that had to be magical. In only a few quick minutes, they all got bowls of a rich, brown soup full of mushrooms and lentils, and they had a whole loaf of warm bread to go with it. James got more than enough, and it tasted wonderful; but for whatever reason, the others called it merely a snack. James got stuffed, but the others were not satisfied until they sopped up the final juice from the bottom of that big cauldron.

“Now, there’s some eating.” Mrs. Copperpot said, and a moment later, the fire went out and the pot vanished somewhere along with all of their bowls and utensils. Unfortunately, James missed seeing how it all went away because his eyes were trained on the forest which seemed to be moving on both sides of the path.

“Did I eat something I shouldn’t?” he wondered and whispered the words to himself. Mrs. Copperpot heard.

“No, James. I know what human people like.” She smiled for him before she got caught up with the concern that looked written on his face. “Why?” she asked and dropped her eyebrows to show concern on her own features.

“Because the forest looks like it is moving, all swirling around.” He waved his arms, and Poker saw what it was.

“Snakes!” Poker shouted. As if in answer, a rattlesnake came up across the path behind them to effectively cut off their retreat. Two great black snakes with red marks on their backs slithered up on the path in front and that left only the ogre way to the Craggy Mountains open. James did not want to go that way, but they had no choice. They all began to back down that path and kept as much to the center as they could with one eye on the leaves that covered the way in case those leaves should move on their own.

“Yikes!” Grubby jumped away and spoiled the strike of a python which reached out from behind a tree.

“There must be thousands of them!” Picker shouted, and with that word still fresh in their ears, they heard the “Toot! Toot!” of a little horn in the distance. Only a moment later, a little man rode up on the back of a fox, and a whole troop of weasels and mongooses and other such creatures came with him. The swirling in the woods stopped, though slowly, and many of the snakes started to crawl off, but many did not. They heard the sound of battle, such crashing and squealing in the woods as James had never imagined.

“Many thanks,” Mrs. Copperpot breathed.

“Glad I arrived in time,” the little man said, got down to bow to the dwarf lady, and then bowed also to James. “Name’s Pug, a common gnome. The Lord of the woods said you were headed this way, but I’ve had my eye on the postern gate for some time, and I knew the snakes were lying in wait. That demon what’s got the castle under her thumb is a sly one, she is.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Grubby said, but the words sounded hollow.

“Yes, well.” Pug did not contradict the imp, but he had more to report. “My friends will keep them back for a time, but the path you were on is not safe to travel, and the snakes will come back soon enough. Come. There’s another way around to the gate, and so far, it has been clear of guardians.”

“Double thanks.” Mrs. Copperpot returned a little bow to the gnome.

“Yes, well. I’m just a common gnome.” Pug spoke while he took the lead to get them out of that area. “But even I can see that you’ll never set Lord Noen free, nor the ladies going by that path.”

Pug proved surprisingly quick and nimble for someone who stood only two feet tall. James had a hard time keeping up; but it was not long before they found a side path which appeared very overgrown and looked like it hardly ever got used.

“I hope you’re right about this way being safe.” James still shivered from seeing that python make a grab for Grubby.

“Yes, well. I didn’t say safe, young master,” he said. “But safer, I think. I haven’t found anything too bad this way yet.” And, of course, James wondered what might be bad, even if it was not too bad.

Golden Door Chapter 13 David to the Sea, part 2 of 2

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Mickey danced from one slippery stone to the next, as sure footed as a mountain goat. The others had to be more careful to keep from slipping and injuring themselves, especially David, and this made their overall progress very slow.

“Where dey go?” They heard the Cyclops as it finally pulled itself up to the top of the cliff.

Feeling good with the world, Mickey began to sing a little tune as he danced, and sometimes helped the others.

“Hi-dee, Die-dee, Diddly-dee.

Fiona love please marry me.

We’ll sail across the briny sea,

And make our home in Timbukthree.”

“Help!” Oren shouted between making horrible gurgling sounds. “Help! Help!” He got very loud, and Inaros and Floren had to make a mad dash to grab the boy who had slipped into a small pool where he could not get a grip. He swirled around and looked ready to slip on down the mountainside. Once Inaros caught the boy by the scruff of his collar and hauled him up to safety, Mickey continued.

“Hi-dee, Die-dee Diddly-do.

O’Mac my love I’ll marry you.

And promise ever to be true…

“Hey!” David interrupted. “I thought the place was Timbuktu.”

“Oh, ye heard that one.” Mickey disappeared into a dark opening beside the river.

“Found you.” They all heard the voice above and looked up to see a tremendous hand come grabbing down into the crevasse. The Cyclops could not reach them, but it did knock several boulders free, stones which were just waiting for the chance to let the water send them crashing down to the sea. David watched one as big as his chest pass inches from his face.

“In here.” Mickey stuck his head out from the dark and disappeared again. Floren hustled Oren and Alden into the dark. Inaros grabbed David’s hand and pulled him along.

“I can’t fit in there.” David protested, seeing the place as dark and foreboding. They looked up. The giant hand started coming down again, ready to make a more accurate grab at them.

“Rabbit warrens and gopher holes…” Mickey O’Mac chanted but David did not hear it all as he found himself shrunk to the size of a rabbit, if not a mouse.

“Curiouser and curiouser, Alice said.” Inaros added some words of his own as he shoved the young man into the dark and followed.

“Supper! Come back!” They heard the words before they heard pounding on the rocks with the tree trunk the Cyclops carried around for a club. The water worn rocks crumbled and that moved them deeper into the cave where it opened-up and where they heard the sound of breakers crashing against some rocks down below.

“Watch your step,” Mickey said, as they walked around the corner and came into a true grotto where they found a large opening to the sea, with wind and light above and swirling waters below. The rocks remained slippery wet from the sea mist, and the way narrow against the cave wall, before it opened out into a full-fledged ledge above the water. Inaros, Floren and the boys got big again, returning to their normal size. Mickey, of course, was naturally only about two feet tall, but David protested.

“Hey! I can’t do that!” He gave the little man a hard look, eye to eye as it were.

“Sure, ye can,” Mickey said. “Get big or little as you please, it makes no matter to me.”

Floren reached for David’s hand. “You just have to decide in your heart, and you can be your regular size again.” David tried it, and it didn’t work at first. He began to panic, but Inaros slapped him hard on the back, nearly knocking him over, and shouted at him.

“Put some gumph into it!”

David did not know what gumph was, but the slap made him mad and immediately he became his normal size again and might have said something improper to the elf if he had not noticed. “I did it,” he shouted instead.

“Yes, you did,” Inaros said, with a smile.

“Hey! Look at this!” Alden called them over. They had been looking at the crystals in the walls that reflected the light that came in over the sea. The light made so many rainbows of color they were hard to count. And that happened with only dim light from a cloud filled sky, David thought. The cave on a sunny day had to be spectacular.

“Cool!” Oren shouted, and the others looked more closely. Someone had arranged a number of crystals to make pictures, like one might expect a caveman to paint on a cave wall, but here, in the shimmering light, the animals depicted seemed to move. David could imagine the whale spouting and the dolphins leaping high above the water line. He saw the tentacles of the jellyfish swirling around, and the school of pilot fish darting into the coral to escape the jaws of a shark that looked all too real.

“Awesome,” Alden added, and up to a point, David agreed, as long as he did not focus on the shark. He hardly had time to say so, though, because three things happened in quick succession. First, the pounding on the cave entrance in the crevasse became marked and regular like the Cyclops became determined to dig out his treats. Several stones and a few crystals crumbled and fell from the ceiling, and while no one initially got hurt, they knew they did not have long to decide what to do. A few stones clattered on the ledge, though most fell into the water. Floren pulled David back from beneath a rather large stone which looked a bit like a loose tooth.

Then the water level began to drop. It may have been dropping slowly all along, only they really noticed as they watched the ceiling stones splash into the drink. It sped up, looked a bit like someone pulled the plug, and in a very short while the entire cave would be emptied.

Then third, there came a brief flash of light, not as bright as the light that surrounded Angel, but just as intense in its own way. A figure rose-up from the water, a woman, and she did not look too pleased with what she saw or heard.

“Enough!” The woman shouted with a voice of command that echoed in the cave loud enough to make David throw his hands to his ears. When he looked up, he saw Inaros and Floren bow, Alden and Oren pressed back into the wall in the hope that they might not be noticed, and Mickey O’Mac whined.

“Lady, dear lady. It is not what you think.” David barely had time to notice the pounding on the cave had stopped before he heard the lady answer and saw a very slim, wry smile cross the lady’s lips.

“And what do I think?”

“Oh.” Now Mickey bowed, deeply. “These fine people were about to be tasty morsels for the Cyclops, and I thought, kind heart that I am, that the Lady would not mind her place used to save such noble lives as these. Oh.”

“And yes, I have a kind heart,” the lady said. “But you have trespassed.” The lady paused in the pretense of thinking. “I should say letting you off for invading my sanctuary will be fair payment for the lives you have saved. Do not ask them for further payment of any kind, is that clear?”

“Oh!” Mickey wailed. “I’ll be beggared! I’ll starve!”

The lady pinched her fingers and Mickey continued to make noises, but his lips got sealed shut. “Now, let us see what noble lives you have saved.” She waved, and Inaros, Floren, Oren and Alden were drawn into a line as if they were soldiers waiting for inspection. David also felt the pull, but he resisted and stayed where he was; and then he regretted resisting as the lady looked at him. He should have run to stand behind the line instead.

“Inaros, old friend.” The Lady looked back at the line of elves.

Inaros bowed a second time. “Lady Alyscia. Always a pleasure.”

The lady returned a slight tip of her head and turned to Floren and the boys.

“Floren, mum.” Floren bowed. “My brother Oren and his friend Alden,” she finished the introductions.

“I see,” the lady said, seeing more than just the names. “Daughter and son of Lord Galadren, and friend. You are welcome to my sanctuary.” She turned toward David. “And what have we here? Were he not able to resist my simple will, I would have guessed he was mortal flesh and blood.” She stepped toward David, and to his credit, David stood his ground.

She set her hand gently against David’s cheek and appeared surprised. “Human, mortal, and yet not. Gifted with every ability of the elves of the light, yet he is not aware of it and has much to learn.”

Inaros made this introduction. “Lady Alyscia, naiad of the grotto, may I introduce David, son of the Kairos.”

The naiad’s eyebrows went up and that stern look changed back to that sly little grin. “But what brings you to my sea? Why have you come?” She pealed her eyes away from David and turned them again to Inaros which allowed David to let out the breath he had been holding.

“We had thought to find some way to reach the Palace beneath the waves. Our mission is to free Lord Galadren if we can, and the ladies that are held prisoners in the dungeon. Sadly, we got only this far before the Cyclops nearly had us for supper.”

“Oh, but Inaros friend, there is far worse coming,” Alyscia said. She took the old elf’s arm and lead him to the edge of the ledge. “You see, the sea is drained.” And mostly it was. “And that means much more will be along shortly.” She did not explain. “But perhaps I can help.” She paused for the touch on her garment. “Fine, Mickey, fine.” She said and snapped her fingers so Mickey’s mouth could come unglued. He gasped a great gulp of air as if he had not been breathing through his nose. “This should do it,” the naiad said as she touched each one on the head. When she came to David, though, she paused, and a look of concern crossed her face.

“Do not resist.” Inaros spoke up. “Let her have her way with you and trust that it is for your safety, like the rest of us.”

David paused, but he felt willing to trust the old man. He closed his eyes and felt a brief touch on his head and something like golden sparkles tingle through his body. When he opened his eyes again, the lady had gone. Then the water came back in a furious torrent and David barely heard Floren shout, “Tidal Wave!” Before the water reached the ceiling of the cave and they were all in over their heads. David might have balked at that, but it happened so fast, he was breathing underwater before he realized what he was doing.

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

MONDAY

At least James gets a good lunch in before the trouble begins and they run into the ogre. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Golden Door Chapter 13 David to the Sea, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

It took very little effort to convince Floren, Alden and Oren to follow along on the quest. Floren seemed anxious to get out from under her charge to watch the boys, and she imagined, perhaps falsely, that the boys would be more respectful of the older gentleman among them. The boys were bored and ready for the chance to break the tedium of hiding out and eating fish every day. They immediately began to fend off pretend dragons and imaginary monsters in the deep. They tried to get David interested in the game, but for David it started becoming all too real and he felt loath to imagine the dangers that might lie ahead. Still, he felt glad for the company and thought the more, the better; while Inaros, for his part, appeared content to sit comfortably and reminisce about real adventures he had in his younger days, perhaps with Captain Van Dyke, or Lady Margueritte, or some other person of the Kairos. In fact, after a good helping of fish, he easily reminisced himself into a nap.

“Hush.” Floren quieted the boys. “Let him sleep. We are only an hour from the sea and the day is young yet.” The boys hushed for a few minutes, but soon erupted in sword fights with fallen branches and imaginations run amok. Floren took a deep breath, but let it pass. The elder elf did not even twitch.

After Floren cleaned up, and before she could call the boys in and wake the sleeper, the ground began to tremble. The quake came. The boys screamed, and Inaros had no trouble waking.

“Hold on to your feet!” Inaros shouted when his eyes popped open. Floren literally bounced her way to where the boys trembled on their hands and knees. David and Oren looked scared, and rightly so, but also excited as if this shaking, in a way, was fun. Alden appeared simply frightened out of his wits, so it was toward Alden that Floren made her way. She hugged the boy when she got there, and Alden grabbed on for dear life, even as the shaking quit. It rumbled again, and after a few minutes, a third time. It brought an evergreen down not far away, but then it seemed over.

“Everyone still whole or have you all shaken to bits?” Inaros called out since they were out of sight behind some trees.

“Okay.” David yelled.

“All ship shape,” Floren said. She had clearly been thinking about going to sea and no doubt wondered how they were going to go under the sea to the Golden Palace of Amphitrite.

“Glad to hear it.” Inaros appeared tall, leaning on his staff and he grinned at them as they were still splayed across the ground. “I should say we had best get going. No telling when the next ground buster will strike.” Floren agreed and got right up. The boys bounced up, except Alden who did not like the term ground buster. They walked, the boys sometimes out front and sometimes following, but never far away, and always elf quiet, a condition Floren imposed on them lest she magically zipper their mouths.

When she had a moment where Inaros’ ears were all hers, she spoke what pressed on her mind. “That quake felt worse than the night before. I thought aftershocks were supposed to be less intense than the original.”

“Eh?” Inaros spoke rather loudly. Floren had to repeat herself with some volume, and unfortunately, David heard and came to join them. Oren and Alden were not far behind.

“But you see.” Inaros raised his hands, staff and all. “Sometimes there are small preliminaries before the big eruption!” He raised his hands to express such and mimed an explosion, but quickly returned the staff to the ground before he stumbled. That was not what anyone wanted to hear, and after that Floren decided not to ask any more questions.

David did smell the sea before he saw it. It smelled of salt-brine and centuries of seaweed. It remained a good deal below their elevation. He could only hear the dull roar of breakers against rocks in the eternal dance that would one day turn rocks to sand and drag the sand down into the deeps. The small river they followed dropped out of sight at that point into an ever-deepening gorge that it had carved over the centuries and that brought it swiftly to the sea. It looked like an excited lover who could not suffer a gentle slope. David did not know if their path would take them to an easier decline to the sea, but he knew the small river would get there first.

“Ah! The Western Cliffs,” Inaros announced. He took a great whiff of the air. “Sadly, my nose is not as it was.” He touched his nose. “Despite the fact that my nose appears to have grown larger.”

David looked, carefully around. They stood amidst the kind of shrubs and hardy grass that can only prosper in a salty mist, and it appeared that they had indeed come to some cliffs. The sea came in waves, a sheer thirty feet or more below them.

“All I sbell is rotten kelp.” Oren held his nose to exaggerate his expression of disgust.

“Seal People!” Floren interrupted.

“Where?” Oren and Alden together drowned out David’s, “What?” The young elf and brownie nudged right up to the edge to see. David went a bit more careful, and Inaros came to put his arm around the young man and point with his staff while he spoke.

“No one knows where they came from. Like the Centaurs of old, the Were and Mere people and others, some think they came from the stars, you know, another world altogether. See how the young frolic in the shallows. The birthing happened earlier this spring. Look, there.” Inaros raised his staff and pointed, but David was already looking where several of the hundreds that littered the beach, stood up, suddenly having legs and arms, and appeared to be in the shape of men. “Sailors used to fear the seal people, though I suppose that is like saying water is wet. Sailors generally fear anything different and strange. They are a very superstitious lot.”

“But are they seals or people?” David asked.

“Hard to say,” Inaros answered. “They have always kept to themselves and communicating with them has been a rare event. I understand your father, when he was Gerraint, he spoke with them once on an isle off the north coast of Scotland, but that was before my time.”

David looked down at the stone and sand, a very narrow strip at the base of the cliff. It looked gray in appearance, even as gray as the clouds that were beginning to gather overhead to dim the light of the sun. As such, the seals were very hard to see—unless they moved.

“They are also very seal-like.” Inaros appeared to be thinking out loud. “They fall prey to sharks like any seal and have never seen fit to make tools to defend themselves, though from all accounts, they could. But who can know the mind of such a strange creature?” The elf patted David on the shoulder and David thought, look who’s talking.

There came a rumbling sound from down the beach and Alden leapt back from the lip of the cliff in fear that the Earth might start shaking again.

“Cyclops!” Oren shouted and pointed in excitement even as his sister dragged him back from the edge.

David saw the Cyclops. It had to be more than twenty feet tall, and looked human enough, or something like a giant apart from the one bulbous eye in the center of the forehead. It appeared naked, but its hand, three fingers and a thumb, held fast to a club as big as a tree. David needed no encouragement to get back from the edge of the cliff, and on second thought, he imagined even Bert the giant would look like a shrimp next to this monstrosity. In a moment, it got worse.

The Cyclops opened its mouth and let out a glob of drool that fell, a bucketful that strung almost to his feet. Then he spoke. “I smell me seal meat for me supper.” The voice boomed. The eye scanned the rocks where the seal people were already evacuating the beach with all haste. But there were many young among them that could hardly move fast and so Floren moved fast for them. Before the Cyclops could bend down or lift his club for a smashing blow, an arrow shot out from the cliff top and pierced the creature’s ear. The Cyclops swatted at the sting, like a man might swat at an annoying insect, and the second arrow struck like a thorn in his hand. The Cyclops turned his head and David turned to run. He missed seeing the third arrow that just missed the creature’s big eye.

“Waaa! I see me wee folk for me desert.” The Cyclops roared and the club came faster than David would have thought possible for such a lumbering beast. It struck some on the side and some on the top of the cliff and broke loose several David sized boulders that crumbled like dust to the monster’s feet. “I be getting wee folk and eating wee folk.” The Cyclops roared again, but since his head stayed below the cliff top, and since the travelers ran, the impact of that roar did not sound as strong as the first. Then David turned and saw a great hand rise-up and slap down on the cliff top to search for wee ones to grab and gobble. With all his running, David got just barely far enough away so as not to be caught.

“Which way?” Floren asked, the bow still in her hand.

“Inland,” Inaros said. “But it will still follow, and even if we reach the trees, it will simply brush them aside to get at us.” Inaros seemed exceptionally sharp in the face of danger, and while it encouraged David who had been thinking of him as a doddering old man, what Inaros said did not encourage David at all.

“If I may suggest.” The voice came from roughly two feet off the ground in the direction of the river where it first started to carve the gorge down through the cliffs. David looked hopefully at the little man, but Floren held David back. She looked wary. “Old one-eye can’t get his hammy hands down into the gorge in most places and there’s caves near the bottom where we can be out of his reach altogether.”

“Mickey O’Mac!” Inaros knew the little one, and Floren relaxed, but just a little.

Mickey O’Mac leapt to the nearest boulder not yet swallowed by the running river and the boys all laughed because it made him look like his head stuck up out of the ground. “Well?” He disappeared down the gorge.

“Come on,” Inaros said, with a glance at the cliff’s edge.

The Cyclops had both hands up on the top by then with one up to the elbow. It had started to pull itself up and that terrible one eye was about to get a good look. Inaros hurried them, and they stepped out into the river and began to climb down among the rocks. They tried to keep out of the swirls, jetties, and avoid the mini waterfalls that followed the precipitous drop to the sandy beach below.

Golden Door Chapter 12 Beth through the Mist, part 2 of 2

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Beth felt very shy in the presence of these perfect specimens of the female nature. All the same, she smiled. She felt she could hardly help it, though it came as much from relief as anything else. She could not imagine these women meant her any harm.

“I said she was nice,” Daffodil reminded the others.

“Yes, you did.” Mistletoe spoke before the others could respond, and she smiled to match Beth’s smile, but that made Mistletoe’s beauty almost too much for Beth to bear. She nearly fainted and only got hold of herself when a thought crossed her mind.

“But where is Holly?” she asked.

“I’m up here!” Holly’s sweet little voice came down from an upper tree branch. Beth looked, but she could not find the girl. “Mistletoe says I can’t show myself unless I get big.”

Beth looked again at Mistletoe with the question written all over her face. “What does she mean, get big?” Mistletoe turned to the treetop and the look on her face appeared stern. Beth’s eyes wandered down the row of other girls, but they betrayed nothing, except Daffodil, who tried not to giggle. Beth remembered Mrs. Aster and realized that these must be more fairies. “I don’t mind if she stays little,” Beth said out loud.

“Goody!” Holly shrieked and a flash of light shot out of the tree to hover between Beth and Mistletoe. Beth got a good look. Holly appeared a pretty little fairy, and more fitting with Beth’s imagination, having bumble bee type wings and being about seven or eight inches tall. She fluttered her wings with a speed too quick to see except as a blur. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” Holly said, joyfully.

“Holly!” It sounded like Mistletoe’s scolding voice, but Holly whipped around and faced the woman. She placed her little fists on her sides and spoke defiantly.

“Just because you’re the big sister, doesn’t give you all the say so.”

“But wait,” Beth said. “Mrs. Aster. The hippogriff.”

“We made this mist to hide you from the hippogriff,” Hyacinth said.

“Lady Alice came to us in the night and told us you were coming. We are to go to the Castle above, I believe.” Mistletoe spoke graciously. She tried to keep the seriousness in her voice, but the joy which she embodied could not be kept down. Beth looked up once again and collapsed because of the vision of loveliness.

“What is it?” Holly asked in sudden concern and fluttered right up to Beth’s ear.

“You are all so beautiful,” Beth breathed to the little one. “I feel so ordinary.”

“Is that all?” Zinnia heard every whispered word.

“Why, that’s easy,” Daffodil said.

“It is a cloak we wear,” Mistletoe said. She stepped near to lift Beth by the arm. “We hardly think of it unless we are traveling on the earth. We take it off then for our own protection.”

“It does strange things to human men,” Holly said, as she came to rest on Beth’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing. She held on to Beth’s hair in case Beth should move suddenly.

“It drives them mad with desire,” Zinnia confided, and she and Holly giggled a little like any young girls might. Beth knew then that they were the youngest.

With Beth standing again, Mistletoe took a step back. “Let me show you.” She did, and she changed in some imperceptible way, but when Beth looked, to be honest, she hardly noticed a change. Mistletoe looked as beautiful as ever which Holly confirmed with a whisper in Beth’s ear.

“Isn’t she a stinky-stinker.”

By then, the other girls crowded around. Hyacinth had already picked up a leaf of some sort and Zinnia had picked up a stick. “All right,” Mistletoe said and let her cloak come back. She reached for a flower, but Daffodil made them wait while she retrieved a little water from a nearby stream.

“Goody,” Holly shouted. She vacated the shoulder and pelted Beth with some kind of dust. The others touched her and pressed up against her with their things while Daffodil anointed the top of her head; and they sang the most lilting, sweetest tune which made Beth want to cry and smile for joy at the same time.

“Okay,” Mistletoe said suddenly. “Done.”

“Oh, yes.” Holly hovered up in Beth’s face. “Now you are very beautiful.”

“But can I take it off?” Beth wondered, thinking of what Holly and Zinnia said about the strange things it did to men.

“Of course, you have to decide is all.”

Beth took a deep breath and tried. It worked, and she could put the beauty back on as well. Then she let out her breath in a great exhale while Holly clapped in joy. The others seemed equally delighted until Mrs. Aster showed up. Then all together, the fairies dropped their eyes and curtsied, Holly curtsying in mid-air.

“Well,” Mrs. Aster said sternly. “I see you have shared the important thing with our young charge.”

“Yes, mum.” The girls echoed each other.

“And this cloak of beauty is going to take us to the castle in the sky?”

“No mum.” They echoed again after they thought about it.

“How could it?” Daffodil asked.

“Indeed!” Mrs. Aster scolded, but Beth could tell that she really liked the girls. “Beth, dear, there is nothing as flighty and frivolous as the mind of a fairy, and rather shallow when it comes to young fairy women.” The fairies all cringed a bit; even Mistletoe. “And I ought to know since I am a fairy. And I was young once too, believe it or not.” Beth hid her grin, but the other fairies all looked up with expressions of surprise on their faces. They had been responding to Mrs. Aster like a grumpy schoolteacher and never thought that she was a female fairy too.”

“Were you really young once?” Holly asked with appropriately big eyes.

“Yes, Holly dear,” Mrs. Aster said in a voice that Beth thought sounded remarkably like Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. Beth only avoided saying, “Toto too.”

“And now that we are all here.” Mrs. Aster looked around to be sure all the girls were paying attention. “We must release Beth’s wings.”

“Wings?” Beth started and Zinnia and Hyacinth reacted with the same word.

“I think she means we must give her flight,” Mistletoe explained, and looked at Mrs. Aster who nodded her approval of the explanation.

“Please get little,” Mrs. Aster added and suddenly Beth became surrounded with a troop of flitting, fluttering little ones who began to sing again, a chanting song, while they pelted her with gold dust, or fairy dust, or anyway, something like dust. Beth sneezed because they used so much of it, and she started to protest, but fell silent when she lifted two feet off the ground, and she did not even have to think a happy thought.

“Come on-y,” Holly chirped, and raced up to the treetops. Hyacinth and Daffodil were already ahead of her, and Zinnia spun happily around Beth’s head. Beth rose more slowly and Mrs. Aster stayed right beside her. Mistletoe kept back as well. Beth could not hold back the smile that came to her lips. The feeling of being weightless, or rather being able to fly felt like a heady experience. Then again, when they started to rise above the treetops, Beth decided not to look down.

“Bring her along, and don’t dawdle,” Mrs. Aster said. “I think I better go ahead and see if the way is clear.” With that, Mrs. Aster shot up and off like a rocket and Beth watched until the little fairy vanished in a cloud. It did not occur to her then just how sharp her eyes had become. She thought instead about being left with a bunch of flighty fairies. She looked at Mistletoe, but Mistletoe simply smiled at her and said nothing.

Golden Door Chapter 12 Beth through the Mist, part 1 of 2

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Mrs. Aster fluttered by Beth’s ear as Beth stepped into the forest. The fairy allowed her butterfly wings to gently undulate against the slight breeze. The trees in that place looked widely spaced, and there were flowers and soft grass more than leaves and prickly bushes beneath Beth’s feet. It looked to her like a haphazard orchard rather than a natural wood, and Beth expected the trees would peter out altogether not too far along. She imagined they would give way to some flower filled meadow if not a field of grain.

“I do not like that sound,” Mrs. Aster said quietly, after a short way. “I do not like it at all.”

“What sound?” Beth asked with a bit too much volume, and as she said it, she heard it, not by the sound, but by its sudden absence. Mrs. Aster just looked at her, sternly.

“And I don’t like the fact that our way is bringing us closer,” she whispered. “Perhaps I had better look ahead.”

“No?” Beth did not know what else to say, but now that she recognized the heavy breathing in the distance, she had no desire to be left alone.

Mrs. Aster nodded, and Beth wondered if the fairy felt some of the same desire to stick together. “Hush!”

Beth stopped and turned her eyes from the fairy to look ahead. It took a moment to piece together what she saw. Unlike the lion-dragon-goat thing that Chris had ferreted out the night before, this creature appeared mostly horse, though the head and claws looked more like an eagle as did the wings, obviously, since horses normally did not have wings.

“Mutant,” Beth called it. She was at that time first wondering how she could get to the castle in the clouds, and she briefly imagined that this might be the answer, though she hardly imagined herself as being comfortable on the back of such a creature.

“Hippogriff,” Mrs. Aster named it. “A meat eater,” she added as she appeared to want Beth to back away, slowly. Beth had already decided to do that very thing, but somehow the creature detected the motion and turned one big eye in their direction. “Fly!” Mrs. Aster shouted as the hippogriff broke into a run and headed straight for them. Beth ran. Mrs. Aster was the one who flew, and surprisingly, she flew straight at the beast before she veered off at the last minute. The eagle head took a half-hearted snap at the fairy, but then its wings opened-up and it took to the air in pursuit.

Beth kept running, until she came to a mist which came up out of nowhere and enveloped her. She stopped, almost afraid to continue into who knew what. Beth squinted and waved her hand, but the mist just swirled in place. It seemed thick, like a cloud come down to earth. She could barely see inches in front of her face. “Hello,” she called out rather quietly and at once saw a light through the fog. It flickered brightly for a moment and quickly faded.

Beth wanted to run to the light, but held her feet to a careful pace, even when the light appeared to float deeper into the recesses. She imagined she saw a figure too, possibly a woman. It seemed hard to tell from the shape, but it vanished altogether after her first step. Two steps into the mist and Beth had no idea where she started. She almost panicked and believed for a second that the light and misty figure might be luring her in for some nefarious purpose. Beth took a deep breath and tried to execute a full turn. After two steps, she realized she missed her target and decided to call out.

“Mrs. Aster,” she called, but again not too loud. Something about her misty surrounding required quiet and respect, like silence should be the norm and reverence the rule. There came no response, and Beth felt a little sick to her stomach at the thought that she got utterly lost after just two steps. “Mrs. Aster,” she called again with some sharpness, as if to suggest that this was not a time for fooling around, and then she had another thought. “Light? Hello, who is there?” She spoke to the figure she had seen on the chance that the figure might respond, and not want to eat her.

“Hello.” The figure did respond, and Beth jumped. Despite the hope that someone, that anyone might be there, she expected no answer.

“Who is there?” Beth asked quickly.

“Who is there?” The voice asked in return. It sounded like a woman’s voice, and Beth might have imagined an echo except the quality of the voice was decidedly not hers. This woman’s voice sounded beautiful, sweet, kind, suggestive of hidden depths, old, but quite young at the same time. It felt confusing.

“I asked first,” Beth retorted; but then she thought she ought to be more polite to a potential savior. “My name is Beth.”

“Mine is Mistletoe,” The response came, and it got followed immediately by another, sweeter, much younger voice.

“Mine’s Holly,” the voice said, and there came a flash of light which seemed to buzz around Beth’s head for a second before it vanished into the mist.

“But I can’t see you.” Beth insisted. A little concern about the mysterious flashing light crept into her voice. She felt simply fear of the unknown because she did not feel threatened in the least. It seemed as if the fog acted like a protective blanket to keep her warm and safe regardless of what might be out there, hippogriffs or otherwise. “Where are you?”

Beth moved carefully in the fog from the same fear of the unknown, but here she imagined very real dangers from being unable to see, like falling into a hole or a pit or falling off a cliff.

“Over here,” Mistletoe said. “I see you perfectly well.”

“Is she safe?” Beth heard a third voice.

“I think so Zinnia,” Mistletoe said.

“I think she’s nice.” Holly voted for her. Beth thought, Hurray!

“I do too.” That sounded like yet another voice. How many of them were there?

“Daffodil. You think everyone is nice.” A fifth voice spoke.

“I do not.” Daffodil defended herself with some grump in her voice.

“Hyacinth is right,” Mistletoe said. “You do think everyone’s nice, but Daffodil is usually right.”

“Come on-y,” Holly said. “Just a bit further.”

One step more and Beth arrived in a completely different clearing in the forest. One moment she walked mired in fog and the next she got utterly free and stood amidst trees so tall she could not see the tops. The early morning sun, colored green by the leaves, broke through here and there in streaks of light that reached the forest floor, and looked like golden streaks on a canvas. The birds, which she had not heard through the mist, were in full song and danced among the branches. Beth found herself facing the four most beautiful young women she had ever seen. She had to catch her breath because their beauty appeared almost unbearable. She swallowed hard and tried not to stare, and finally forced herself to look down at her feet where she saw stones just behind her heels. In fact, she stood in a stone circle of some sort, though she had no idea what the significance of that might be.

“Welcome.” Beth heard Mistletoe’s voice and looked up again. The woman looked about her age, or perhaps a little older, dressed in a medieval foot-length dress which fit her very well. Her long raven hair fell to her waist and gold sparkles flashed in green eyes which looked warm and welcoming as well as a little mysterious in their depths. The eyes looked as confusing as the voice, and Beth decided that while Mistletoe looked to be about twenty, there was something in her which felt much older. The same could be said for the other girls, though they appeared more like they were seventeen or eighteen, and one perhaps sixteen.

“I am Mistletoe.” Mistletoe continued to speak when Beth failed to respond right away. “And these are Hyacinth, Daffodil and Zinnia.”

“G-good to know you,” Beth stammered.

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

MONDAY

Beth receives the gift of flight and just in time because David and his friends suffer an earthquake while on their way to the sea. Until Next Time, Happy Reading.

*

Golden Door Chapter 11 Chris in the Dark, part 2 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

When he came to the actual end of the tunnel, he came to a tremendous underground cavern. Chris could neither see the far walls nor the ceiling, so he wondered how big the cavern might be. Then he heard something he had not expected—the sound of water, waves breaking on a shoreline, and it sounded close. He stepped into the light.

Two braziers stood against the stone wall, and the shoreline of some underground sea looked hardly fifty feet away. The water appeared black dark and hard to see, even with his night eyes, but at that point on the shore, it looked as if someone built a kind of dock made of stone. He looked over the water and thought there might be something out there, far off. He imagined it was not likely the other side of the sea, but perhaps an island of some sort. He squinted and tried to focus when someone grabbed him by the arms from behind.

“Got him,” a male voice said. Chris did not struggle, because he saw a female step into his line of vision, and for a moment her red hair appeared to be on fire, though otherwise she looked very attractive.

“Who are you?” The woman asked.

“Chris, and you?” Chris spoke as calmly as he could.

The woman looked young. Chris guessed her to be about his age or a little older when she cocked her head to get a good look at him before she answered. “Heathfire. And my companion is Broomwick.”

“Well, you must be good at sneaking up on people because I didn’t see you at all.”

Heathfire looked at Chris like he had to be dumb. “We were in the braziers. Duh!”

“I’m sorry?” Chris did not understand.

“Hey! We are supposed to be asking the questions. Now, where did you come from?”

“Home, originally,” Chris answered. “I came down the tunnel with Deathwalker. The troll road.”  He pointed with his head.

“Deathwalker?” Broomwick slackened his grip, but he did not let go. Heathfire appeared curious as if she knew something, but it would not come together in her mind.

“Yeah,” Chris said. “I haven’t done anything if that is what you’re thinking.”

“Hey! You there!” The shout came from behind them.

“Chris!” Heathfire suddenly shouted. “You’re the Storyteller’s son.”

“I am?” Chris smiled as Broomwick let go and even took a moment to straighten out Chris’ shirt where he had wrinkled it.

“Sorry,” Broomwick said. “Just doing my job you understand. Guarding the wharf and all that. All okay?” Broomwick did not wait for an answer. He became a ball of flame and rushed back to one of the braziers while Heathfire laughed.

Deathwalker came up beside Chris and made sure no damage got done. He gave Heathfire a stern look, which she ignored.

“First stranger in a month and it turns out to be you, and we even knew you were coming.”

“Did he just go on fire?” Chris asked.

Heathfire nodded. “He’s a fire sprite. So am I,” she said. “I take it you’re human, mortal I mean.” Chris returned her nod.

“Now, young woman.” Deathwalker started, but Heathfire interrupted.

“Put it out, Gramps.”

“We need a ship.” Deathwalker finished his thought. “And young man, you might as well join us.” He spoke to the brazier and a flame face with a slightly worried expression stuck up for a second before it scooted away from the brass and took the shape of a burly young man.

“Sorry,” Broomwick said.

“You already said that.” Heathfire teased.

“No, I mean sorry. There haven’t been any ships in dock since that one, you know, took over.”

“That’s right.” Heathfire looked serious for a minute. “And no relief, either. I swear, if I ingest another faggot of charcoal I’ll up-chuck.”

“Charming thought,” Chris said. He wondered what a fire sprite might throw up.

Heathfire stepped close. She took Chris’ hand, and he felt a momentary spark between them which made Chris blink and Heathfire smile.

“Most guys think I’m pretty hot. What about you?” She looked at him in a way which only a fool could misunderstand.

“An understatement,” Chris said, diplomatically. Heathfire giggled, but Chris could feel the heat coursing through his hand.

“Ahem!” Deathwalker interrupted. “We need to get to the island of the castle,” he said. “Our mission is to set Lord Deepdigger free of his enchantment and set the women free as well, if possible.”

“Just the two of you?” Heathfire let go of Chris’ hand, stepped back and covered her giggle. “I mean, Kairos’ son and all, but still.”

“I’ll help,” Broomwick stepped forward. Chris looked at him. “Least I can do,” he admitted.

“Thanks.” Chris offered his hand.

“Me, too,” Heathfire said. She put her hand up like a real volunteer and let her eyes roll up toward the ceiling to suggest that she still thought they were crazy. “Maybe we can at least find something better to eat.”

“May I come?” All four turned to see an ugly old woman stand in the shadows by the sea. Chris did not understand, but Heathfire screamed, Deathwalker gripped Chris’ arm with something of an iron grip, and Broomwick rushed for the comfort of his brazier.

The old woman appeared to have risen-up out of the underground sea.

“Hag.” Deathwalker whispered the name of the thing, and as he spoke, the old woman cackled and began to change. She very quickly became seven feet tall and appeared to be covered with prickly, matted hair or fur. The monster looked incredibly strong. Chris especially did not like the way she or it drooled while looking at him.

“Stoked up.” They heard Broomwick’s voice behind them. “Football tackle,” Broomwick yelled, as he shot out of the brazier, a streak of flame, and set the creature on fire. To Chris’ dismay, far from being hurt, the creature seemed to revel in the flames, grew another foot taller and appeared stronger than ever.

“Football tackle.” Deathwalker repeated Broomwick’s words and yanked on Chris’ arm. To be sure, Chris would have rather run in the opposite direction, but he could hardly let Deathwalker tackle the monster alone. Deathwalker might have been far stronger than he looked, but he was not nearly strong enough to take down that beast alone; so, Chris ran beside Deathwalker, and together they bumped the beast while it was still distracted and reveling in the flames. It swatted them both aside like two troublesome insects, but it also lost its balance for a second.

A new figure, someone much bigger than Chris hit the off-balance beast, and though even the hulking person had only a little effect on the monster, it became enough to knock the beast over. The hag fell back into the sea and screamed at the last second when she realized she would hit the water. The fire with which the beast became covered, the fire that made the beast grow in size and strength, got doused all at once in a great cloud of steam, and the cavern filled with the agonizing screams of death. Chris could not tear his eyes away. Almost as quickly as the old woman transformed into the frightening monster, so now the monster changed back partially into the woman. Then the arms and legs, chest and face of the old woman collapsed and sank, in a sense imploded. It looked as if the bones and muscles which had once given the body shape had been liquefied and could no longer hold the skin to that shape. When it was over, Chris saw very little of the hag that remained afloat. He saw less than an oil slick on the surface of the water.

“My thanks,” Deathwalker said. Chris looked. Their help had not been Broomwick in solid form, and certainly not Heathfire who spent those few short moments trying hard not to scream again. This brute looked young, had fangs for teeth and claws for hands, but he grinned and shook Deathwalker’s hand, so Chris imagined he might not be too bad.

Golden Door Chapter 11 Chris in the Dark, part 1 of 2

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Chris followed Deathwalker into the darkness, and immediately the golden door vanished, exactly as Chris expected. He stopped, placed his hand on the goblin’s shoulder so the goblin would stop with him, and he looked all around the tunnel they were in. They had absolutely no light of any kind in that place, but Chris could see almost like mid-day. The colors were all a little different, what colors there were, but he could identify all of them, along with a few shades he was not sure he had ever seen before.

“It’s as bright as day in here,” he said.

“Bright as night,” Deathwalker corrected.

Chris nodded that he understood. “But which way?” The tunnel stretched as far as they could see to their right and left and eventually faded back into the true darkness in which it actually existed.

“Hard to say.” Deathwalker shook his head. “This looks like a troll road, but they are not like dwarfs, not big on signposts, or reading and writing for that matter.”

“A troll road?”

“Yes,” Deathwalker nodded. “Only hope they don’t charge too much for using it.” He chuckled at the over-worn joke. Chris groaned at the bad pun but wondered if they might have some troll house cookies. He held his tongue.

“I hate to split right at the beginning,” Deathwalker said. “But with the earth shake last night, we might find the tunnel blocked one way or the other.”

“I think we should stick together,” Chris said quickly.

“But we could take maybe a half hour and see where things lead,” Deathwalker tried.

“No. I insist.” Chris sounded adamant. “We stick together. Let’s go this way.” He picked a direction on a whim and did not want to hear about separating. Sight or no sight, he was not about to be left alone in an underground tunnel, and maybe especially if it was a troll road.

“Good enough.” Deathwalker shrugged. “In this world, all roads eventually lead to Rome, if you catch my meaning.” Chris imagined he meant the underground castle, and he nodded, but for the moment, he concentrated on keeping his eyes and ears open. They walked, but after about twenty minutes of silence, Deathwalker opened up.

“Now, be sure you call me Deathwalker, even if some others add an honorific.” he started. “That is what I tell all my students. Besides, we in the under place don’t put so much stock in formalities like the upper people and high elves.” He said “high elves” like that might not be the best of things to be. “Sometimes hobs get high and mighty, but no one much likes the hobs.”

“Hobs?” Chris found the sound of Deathwalker’s voice comforting, and the conversation kept his imagination from running too far ahead.

“Hobgobs. Hobgoblins. The ones your dad once took from the land of the dead and made able to stand the light of day, poor gob.”

“I imagine not everyone would say, poor gob,” Chris interjected.

“No, I suppose you’re right,” Deathwalker admitted. “Some might even call him improved with all that. Your dad, when he lived as the Lady Xiang, did that. She had gone to the place of the dead and the gob worked on staff to torment the wicked people that went to that particular place. Of course, she went there by mistake, and she proved her case by taking the poor gob and turning him into a hob. But, yes, well…” Deathwalker changed the subject. “To understand the feeling of some of us, you honestly have to see the world below, to know the beauty, to recognize the glory of life as we see it. There is no sight so glorious as a new moon and the stars blasting in the heavens, or the full moon, making the most delicious shadows for dancing, almost like the shadows got a life all their own.” Deathwalker smiled and appeared to remember some specific memory.  “I suppose some do,” he added, as a mumble. Of course, presently, Chris’ only experience of the dark world consisted of a rather plain and long tunnel. Then Deathwalker spoke again. “When that big blaster of a sun comes out, it ruins everything and makes it hard to tell the difference between here and there, it does.” He shivered a little just at the thought of all that brightness.

“So, you’re a goblin, then,” Chris guessed, but he was wondering.

“Dark elf.” Deathwalker nodded. “That is sort of the generic name some use. Goblin, troll, hobgoblin, and all sorts of others, breeds, in-betweens and on. Your dad’s little ones come in all shapes and sizes, and some prefer the light, and some prefer the dark, and then the dwarfs and such, I suppose, are the real betwixt and betweeners.” Deathwalker rubbed his chin as he tried to sort it out in his own mind. Chris thought it sounded simple enough, but then he probably did not know enough about it to be confused. Instead, he had a question.

“What do you mean, little ones? I’ve heard the term, and you also said spirits?”

“Sure,” Deathwalker said before he looked up at Chris and quickly shook his head. “Not ghosts. I don’t mean that kind of spirit.” Chris looked relieved. “It means by nature we are actually spiritual creatures and not actually flesh and blood. We get to put on flesh and blood for a while, though. We get born, grow old, and in time all of us gives up the flesh again in what you humans call death, but for us it is really just a return to our natural state.”

“Why?”

“Well, because a spirit alone is deaf, dumb and blind. No eyes and ears, you know. We all got work to do, like a purpose for being, and for most of us little spirits that involves working in the natural world of earth, air, fire, and water. Some, like some elves, might tend to hearth and home, but mostly it is with the earth and nature. By putting on flesh we can see what we are doing if you follow me. We can hear, taste, touch, and smell, like now. I smell a charcoal fire burning somewhere ahead.” They stopped walking. They were at a point where the tunnel split in two directions.

Chris spoke quickly as they paused. “But why little spirits?”

“Because above us there are the lesser spirits, and then greater spirits, and above them, the gods of old. Of course, the gods dealt mostly with humans in the old days, you know, like with love and war and such. But then, they all went over to the other side, which is to say, they gave up their flesh and blood two thousand years ago or so, except this one in the castle who seems to have escaped the time of dissolution.”

“Why?” Chris asked again.

“Because she is rotten and rebellious, to say the least.” He paused because of the look on Chris’ face. “Oh, I see. The gods gave up their position because the humans became mature enough to come under new management, so to speak, though my experience with humans has not shown me much maturity. No offense.”

“But—”

“Now, son. I know you are avoiding the inevitable and want us to stick together, but we need to separate here for a bit. Don’t be long and don’t take any more turns. In fact, if you come to another dividing of the ways, come back here. Meanwhile, I’ll just pop down this way and have a quick look and meet you back at this spot. Okay?”

Chris did not argue, but he did not like it. Anyway, he hardly had time to argue before Deathwalker scooted off, and Chris reminded himself the goblin’s name really was Deathwalker. Chris swallowed, and began down his tunnel which took a long, slow turn around a corner. He saw the light ahead, but it looked like firelight, and it did not disturb his eyes or his vision of the underground. In a way, it enhanced his vision.

“Deathwalker’s charcoal fire,” he whispered to himself, and he snuck up for a closer look. “The light at the end of the tunnel,” he added.