Amphitrite

Medieval 5: K and Y 13 Delayed and Interrupted, part 1 of 2

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Before the dawn, Kirstie and Yrsa found Inga and Hilda with baby Erik on the dock. There also appeared to be a dozen men standing around, waiting. Inga explained, but she used her matter-of-fact voice and did not seem the least worried about the situation.

“The ship appears filled with water sprites and they are threatening to drown anyone who dares to come aboard.”

Kirstie paused and hugged Hilda. “I’m so sorry,” she said for the hundredth time, and Hilda began to cry again, though it was a soft cry. “I’ll just see if Yrsa and I can do anything about this situation. I’ll be right back.” Hilda nodded. “Come on,” she grabbed Inga’s hand.

They walked up the plank to the deck of the ship, and the water appeared to pull back from their face to leave about two feet of free space around the girls. “Vingevourt,” Kirstie called, and the sprite extracted himself from that mass of water.

“Lady,” he said and bowed this time.

“Vingevourt. This is my good friend and self-designated mother figure, Inga. And this is my good friend and self-designated she-bear protector, Yrsa. This is Vingevourt, Lord of the North Sea, in case you should meet again.”

“My pleasure,” Vingevourt bowed again.

“Now,” Kirstie said. “Thank you for protecting our treasure, but we need to board now and prepare to sail on the tide.” She looked around the ship filled with water that slowly leaked back into the fjord. “I hope you didn’t get everything soaking wet. That would make for very uncomfortable sailing, not to mention rot the wood.”

“Don’t worry, lady,” Vingevourt responded in his precious baby voice. “We were careful to keep away from all the wood and from your things. When the men come aboard, everything should be dry and ready to go.”

Kirstie smiled because most of her little ones were much smarter and more thoughtful than most people realized. “Thank you. Bless you,”

“Thank you too. Glad we could help,” Vingevourt said, and he blended into the last of the water that fell over the side. Yrsa already stood at the gangplank.

“It’s okay. The water is gone. We can board now, safely,” she hollered. Some of the men grumbled when they came aboard but finding everything dry instead of soaking wet satisfied most of their complaints.

Kirstie went back to the dock to hug her friend again, and Hilda spoke though her tears. “But Kirstie, what am I going to do? Troels is the only man who really cared for me. When I got pregnant, he married me right away so no one would know.” Kirstie paused to let Hilda cry on her shoulder. She knew many men were not as good about getting a young girl pregnant. Some outright denied that they had any responsibility. Troels did seem to care about Hilda, but he was gone now.

“I heard Thoren say he felt sorry. He said you deserved better.”

“You and Kare,” she said.

“Not by my choice, but Thoren seems nice.”

Hilda nodded. “He is nice,” she admitted.

Inga interrupted. “Jarl and Leif are here. You better get going.”

Kirstie nodded and then caused some more grumbling from the crew, and some shuffling of seats. Kirstie sat in the front and Yrsa sat in front of her so they would not be stared at by most of the crew through much of the voyage.

~~~*~~~

Jarl opted to follow the coast all the way to the Frankish north shore. They had good weather crossing the North Sea from Norway to Denmark, so Kirstie felt optimistic about the trip, and Jarl knew his seas well enough to travel down the correct side of the Jutland Peninsula. The sky clouded over on a couple of days, but the sun stayed out most of the time. They got all the way to just shy of the Eider River before a sudden storm came up, and it was a whopper. It did not occur to Kirstie yet that maybe Abraxas was playing with the weather. This one blew up a real gale and terrifying waves.

“Must be a cyclone,” Kirstie shouted as Yrsa tied her to the railing.

“In the North Sea?” Yrsa wondered.

“Extratropical. A real Nor’easter,” Kirstie said, not that Yrsa knew what that was.

“Storm surge tides will be bad,” Leif shouted back.

“It’s bad enough here,” the man with him also shouted. Leif the skipari, and the man, Old Man Skarde, tied themselves in the very front where they could keep some sort of watch on where they were going. The sail was down, and rowing would do nothing. They were at the mercy of the sea, but it would be bad if the sea decided to push them too close to a rocky shore. Jarl and two others were tied to the steering board, not that they could turn the ship much if they did head toward the rocks.

Kirstie kept her head down to keep as warm as she could in the cold rain. She checked her weapons every few minutes to make sure they were well fastened in. After forever, just when she thought the wind was lessening, a giant wave broke the railing where she was tied. She got dragged out to sea before even Yrsa with her elf speed could grab her.

Kirstie went underwater, but she was not afraid. The rail of the ship might drag her down, but she could both breathe underwater and handle the pressure thanks to the gift of Njord. Besides, the storm did not seem so bad down below.

It took her a few seconds to untie herself, and she headed back toward the surface in just her underthings, having sent her armor back to where it came from. Only then did it occur to her that no one else got dragged overboard. Something fishy about this, she thought. No pun intended. Someone spoke to her inside her mind, and she identified the voice as Amphitrite, queen goddess of the sea. Okay. Kirstie agreed without a second thought, and she went away from there. Amphitrite came to swim in her place, dressed in her mermaid tail.

Amphitrite immediately rose up about ten feet above the waves and checked. She saw the string between the cyclone and the Saxon Shore and did not doubt who was responsible. She sent a sharp thought to Abraxas. “You mess with my winds and waves again, and I will kill you.” She shook her head. She never ever thought that way, but Abraxas had shown he would not understand anything less. “Manannan.” Amphitrite called to the sea god and waited a second before she added, “Do I have to get your mother to fetch you?”

“Majesty.” Manannan appeared standing beside her in midair, still ten feet above the waves.

Amphitrite harumphed and put her hands to her hips. “Please move the cyclone over Saxony and southern Danish lands. My water babies can feed the trees. Try and limit the storm surge. This is an artificial event created by Abraxas. And please pay attention. If he starts to play with the weather again, you have my permission to kick his butt from here to the moon.” She waved him off.

“Majesty.” He bowed again and vanished.

Amphitrite looked down. A pod of dolphins found her and presently circled beneath her feet. “Come children,” she said. “Let’s catch up to the ship.” They swam and played, regularly breaking the surface as they moved. A family of whales joined the game, though they stayed further out. As they approached the ship, Amphitrite knew she was not authorized to fix the ship, but she did check the ship. The hull was good and undamaged. The deck and seats were soaked. A few seats could probably stand to be replaced. The sail had a tear, and the mast was tilted, but the only real break was right where Kirstie had been sitting. Amphitrite understood that was not an accident.

“Too bad,” Kirstie said in Amphitrite’s mind, thinking Amphitrite could fix and strengthen the ship with a mere thought. “Maybe we can stop by that village on the Elbe, like we did with Rune. Last time we told the village men we were just making repairs and would leave them alone. They accepted that and left us alone.”

Amphitrite nodded. It is rarely wise to intervene in the normal course of events, even if the damage is caused by an unnatural event. It is not my place to fix it. I am not the fix-it genie.

Amphitrite made the final leap to the deck of the moving ship, now settled down as the storm pushed off. The men were up pointing at the whales in the distance, and the dolphins near to hand. Dolphins were a sign of good luck, even to Vikings. Yrsa, poor girl, looked terribly worried, but when Amphitrite made the jump to the ship, she traded places with Kirstie, so Kirstie landed on her feet, reclothed in her armor, right next to the girl who sighed her relief. Leif let out his obligatory little shriek and Jarl gave it his best blink. Old Man Skarde had the courage to squint at her and ask how she managed that.

Kirstie noticed her armor was perfectly dry and even repaired in one spot where she had a tear so small, no one but her would notice. She smiled for the crew and told her story, embellished enough to make Yrsa the elf embarrassed at the lies. Kirstie did not tell them about Amphitrite, or about Abraxas causing the storm. She figured the men had enough to worry about without that. She did tell them about her encounter with the sea god who promised to move the cyclone over the land and off the sea. She credited Manannan with getting the dolphins to carry her back to her ship.

“And when the lord of the dolphins threw me to the deck, I thought sure I was going to crash into the mast.” She pantomimed splatting against the mast and a few of the men laughed softly. “Captain,” she said quickly, and Leif listened as well. She told them how Captain Stenson stopped near a village on the Elbe, and how she and Yrsa talked to the village men and found them more than willing to not want any trouble.

“The village men left us alone on the promise that we make our repairs and leave, which we did.”

“Can you find this place?” Leif asked. He got out the chest and the chart to see how far away the Elbe was. While Kirstie nodded, Jarl asked a more pointed question.

“I was looking at the charts right before the big storm hit. So, how do you know the Elbe is the next big river?”

Kirstie looked the man in the eye. “I am a navigator, as was my father.”

Jarl blinked again before he nodded and turned to the charts. “I had forgotten.”

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

MONDAY

The ship needs repairs which is a bit tricky when you are a ship full of dreaded Vikings. Until next time, Happy Reading.

*

Medieval 5: Genevieve 6 Internal Twists, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Genevieve had another girl she named Angele. Otto wanted a second son, but he was not unhappy with a girl. He said his life was now complete, having a son and a daughter of his own. He wanted to count Olivia, but she was so uncooperative, she made it hard. In those days, Otto stayed home. He limped around the palace and often sat by the window, staring out into the distance. Genevieve imagined he was remembering his youth, and probably his first wife and their love affair. Genevieve did not mind. She did her best to make sure his days were quiet and peaceful.

Genevieve went back to her fortification project, but not with the same fervor as before. After losing so many men and ships, the Saracens got the message and stayed away from Provence, at least while Genevieve was alive, and the pirates, what remained of them, decided to pick on other hapless shores.

Genevieve, herself, got very busy. She was concerned about the poverty and standard of living in her county. No one in Provence would know or even guess the poverty in which Genevieve had been raised, but from her upbringing, Genevieve developed a soft heart toward the poor. Too many people lived ragged lives and did not always have enough to eat. The county had fallen on hard times since the Romans left. The merchants had all gone away, and the river traffic down the Rhone Valley had all but stopped. She decided what she needed was merchants, salesmen, and sailors. Provence had olives and olive oil, wine, and grain that still grew in the Rhone Valley. She needed a way to market these things, and so she arranged things with Charles.

She imported several communities of Jews from Italy. The Jews were the ultimate middlemen and merchants in those days, and they built small communities attached to her five main ports, the places she called Nice, Frejus, Toulon, Marseille, and Arles. Arles especially got all that river traffic. Then her ships got built, at last, and she worked with the Jewish community to open trade all over the western Mediterranean, in the islands, in Italy and Southern France, in Barcelona and Hispania, and even with the Saracens of North Africa.

With all that effort, the standard of living in Provence grew, but slowly, very slowly. She cried to think that in her lifetime there would still be a majority of people in Provence struggling with the hard and rocky soil to make their daily bread. The poor you will always have with you, she quoted to herself.

In 783, when Leibulf turned eighteen, Otto granted him the domains and palace in Arles. He made it allodial land, so Leibulf would not be responsible to any other noble apart from the king. He would inherit Provence when Otto passed away, unless the king was unhappy, but this way he would have something if the king decided to appoint a new margrave for the county. It was Frankish-Germanic tradition to divide the inheritance between the sons. It was a good way to keep the boys from fighting. Everyone got something. But it was bad in the sense that the kingdom got continually broken into smaller and smaller pieces, and often the boys fought anyway to gain a bigger piece of the pie.

In this case, Otto only had the one son, but sometimes kings were not pleased and replaced those who they felt were not doing a good job. In his old age, Otto did not worry about that much. He did not worry about anything much. Genevieve, for all practical purposes, ran the March of Provence, and the various knights, barons, counts, city councils and town elders soon learned to listen to her. Her word was law, and they jumped to it. It became easy for them, however, because clearly Genevieve loved all the people, and most of these men and women, and the people in general loved her in return. Her word might be law, but they knew she only wanted the best for them, and that mattered most.

In 787, Charles came through on his way home from Benevento. William, who had taken up residence in Orange, met him in Aix where he said he wanted to see Genevieve again, and see how she was getting along. She turned thirty-three, and William said he was the same age. They smiled for each other, but then walked away. Charles did not mind. In fact, he placed Cousin William in Orange at the bottom corner of Burgundian territory where he could keep one eye on Genevieve and the coast, including Septimania, and the other eye on Toulouse that faced the Basques and the Spanish Marches.

Otto got up for the king, but he still stayed mostly in bed. Leibulf, who was twenty-three, was excited the whole time. He spent most of the time from the first year after the pirate raid to the present in school first learning his grammar, logic, and rhetoric, and second studying arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. Alcuin sent a student of his, Albinus, and the girls were not let off the hook, though Angele was still too young, only being seven when Charles came to visit. Genevieve had a school built like a boarding school and brought in the children from the other noble families in her territory, so her own children, and Leibulf might have friends.

Olivia did not make friends. Genevieve encouraged her, but Olivia did not appear to want any friends. She turned fourteen and showed no interest in boys, either. She hated Charles. Genevieve reminded her that Charles was her birth father, but it did not matter. She hated Charles and did not cooperate with anything. Charles asked what was wrong with the girl, but Genevieve could only shrug and say she was a teenager.

There was more to it than that, and it all came out one night when Olivia snuck into Charles’ room with a knife. Charles was not so easily taken. He got cut in the arm but got the knife from Olivia’s hand and made enough noise so people came running. By the time Genevieve arrived, Olivia was in the corner screaming threats and horrible words and wracked with tears. Genevieve went to her, but she scooted back on her seat and would not let Genevieve touch her. She said something that made sense.

“Mother, help me. They are torturing me. The pain is unbearable. I am losing my mind. Help me.”

“What can we do?” Charles asked as Leibulf and Angele came in, helping Otto to a chair. They all, guards included, looked at Genevieve who found some tears in her own eyes.

After a good, long scream, Olivia spoke again. “Mother. I have to kill Charles. I have to kill William and Leibulf. Mother! Mother, I want to kill you. The Masters want you dead.” She got up to run at Genevieve, her hands extended like claws. The two guards in the room grabbed her, but it took both of them to hold her as she struggled with unnatural strength.

Genevieve had a face full of tears when she said to Charles. “The nightmare.” It took him a minute to remember, but by then, Genevieve was no longer there. Amphitrite, the Queen goddess of the Mediterranean Sea came out of the past to fill her shoes, and she continued to speak to Charles and the rest of the people in the room. “I am going to try and force her to trade places with herself in the far future.” She did not say if it would work, but after a moment, something changed.

Olivia still looked more or less like Olivia, and yet she did not look right. Her eyes bugged out. Her mouth was full of missing teeth. Her hair was longer, uncut, and sticking out in every wild direction. She looked like she never bathed, or cut her nails, and her mouth could only scream. Something came from the girl like miniature lightning and the two guards were blown back from her side. She had death in her eyes, but she could not move further. Amphitrite had her frozen in place.

“I am sorry Genevieve,” Amphitrite spoke through a few tears of her own. “I am sorry Charles. I am sorry, my poor future child.” She closed her hand and the wild Olivia was crushed into a ball of flesh and bone, the blood squeezed out to stain the floor.

Amphitrite waved her hand and the lump of flesh vanished while Olivia came back to fall to the bloody floor and weep. Amphitrite saw the wisps of darkness that hovered over the girl. They might never leave her alone, always being there to tempt her and torment her for the rest of her life, but they would not be able to enter into her or torture her. It would be a hard life.

Amphitrite went away and Genevieve came back to rush forward and fall to her knees, to hug her daughter and cry with her. Olivia no longer felt the need to kill anyone, but she was not entirely safe. She even told them they could not trust her. It was decided to send her to the convent near Cannes, to build it up with an endowment, and let it be under the watchful eye of Lerins Abbey. Genevieve visited often enough and let the Mother Superior know that Olivia was not to leave the convent under any circumstances, no matter how good, kind, or loving she might become.

“And I hope she may find love, and above all, peace,” Genevieve said.

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

MONDAY

Internal twists continue as Otto takes to his bed, Leibulf goes off to war with William of Gellone, then Genevieve visits William as well before someone tries to assassinate the Pope. Happy Reading

*

Medieval 5: Genevieve 4 Troubles Averted, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Margo and Nelly ran up to distract Otto while Genevieve went away and Amphitrite took her place. The old soldier saw anyway, not being so easily distracted. Amphitrite reached out to the shuttle pilot and showed him where she was. She helped guide the shuttle safely to the riverbank, where it set down and took a minute to shut down before opening the door. In that time, Amphitrite reached out to the Ape ship and reviewed the repairs. She let Martok, her mathematical engineer lifetime from the far future look through her eyes. He was not sure one relay on the navigation coupling would hold up under use. Amphitrite held out her hand, and with Martok directing her thoughts, she fabricated the part out of nothing. When the shuttle door opened, Genevieve was back, holding the delicate relay.

Captain Grawl exited the shuttle as Otto came to stand beside Genevieve. Margo, Nelly, and the two soldiers stood behind, the soldiers in particular not knowing what else to do.

“Captain Grawl,” Genevieve identified the Captain for Otto and had to wait a few seconds for the translator to work. “Your relay on the navigation coupling does not look very good. It might burn out under pressure. You might try this one. Hopefully it will work better.”

“Yes, thank you,” Captain Grawl said and carefully handed the relay to the soldier that stood behind him.

“I see you have finished the repairs to your ship. I wish you the best of luck in your struggle against the Flesh Eaters, but now you must leave this world and hopefully not come back. The chances of messing something up that I can’t fix are too great.”

“I understand.” Captain Grawl offered a bow. “Thank you for all you have done.” He turned and went back into his shuttle and closed the door. It rose slowly at first, without too much wind in the faces of those watching. When it got high enough, it shot off toward the horizon.

Otto had to sit down.

Genevieve’s worry caught up with her at that point, and she sat carefully, wondering what she could say. Otto spoke first.

“Leibulf told me you are friends with the elves and fairies. Of course, I did not believe him.”

“It is true,” Genevieve said softly, her voice full of uncertainty. She took a deep breath. “I am responsible for many of the little spirits of the earth, not just elves and fairies. I also watch over the little ones in the air, the water, and the fire.”

“Fire?”

“Mostly the fire beneath the earth where the rocks themselves melt and run in red rivers of lava and only occasionally pour out of the tops of mountains, like Mount Etna or Pompeii.”

“I have read about such things, er, volcanoes I believe.” Genevieve nodded to say that word was correct, but kept her mouth closed until Otto had another question. “In what way are you responsible for these spirits?”

Genevieve first took another deep breath, glad that Otto did not immediately declare her insane. “In the old days, when they messed up like the flowers came up wrong, the trees did not bloom right, the fruit turned sour, the fox got in the hen house, or something, I got yelled at and told to fix it. Let me tell you, escorting the spirits of the dead to the right holding place was a hard one. The cathartic gods as a class had no tolerance and no patience for screw-ups.” She looked at Otto and felt emotional wreckage coming on.

“How old are you?” he asked.

Genevieve raised her eyebrows at that question. She had to think about what he was asking. “I am an ordinary mortal human girl of eighteen years who did not know I had any other lifetimes until a few years ago, when I was fifteen.” She paused to count and hear from the Storyteller. “According to the Storyteller, I am the one hundred and second life since the beginning. My first life was roughly five thousand two hundred and seventy-three years ago. Nimrod was building a tower in an effort to reach the throne of God. But my life—my lives don’t add up that way. I am eighteen, not five thousand years old.”

“I see,” Otto said. “You realize I would not believe a word of it if I had not just seen that you are friends with strange beast creatures.”

“They are people,” Genevieve corrected him. “They are just Ape people, not human people.”

“And the Flesh Eaters?”

“They are people, too, but I try not to think of them. Their name says exactly what kind of people they are.”

“I see,” he repeated himself. “I must say, not exactly what I had in mind when the Lord said you must be born again,” he smiled, and that helped calm Genevieve a bit. “So, it seems you can bring a past person into the present at will. That was the case with the woman I saw that you briefly became, is it not so?”

Genevieve nodded and sniffed. “The Storyteller keeps track, but I don’t remember most of my lives, past or future. And the ones I do remember won’t trade places—I call it trading places—unless there is some immediate need for the person’s skills or training, or whatever that might be.”

“Future lives?”

Genevieve nodded again. “Apparently, my main job is to watch over history and make sure it comes out the way it has been written.”

“How do you know? Of course, future lives.” Otto understood immediately, and Genevieve kept nodding.

“Don’t misunderstand. The next fifty to a hundred years are just as much a mystery to me as they are to anyone else. That is because they are not written yet. But I know when something comes along that threatens to throw everything off track. And I can always look back on these days from further in the future and get a general idea of how things go. Like I know Charles—Charlemagne is destined for great things and making sure he is not assassinated in imperative. Him being killed at this relatively young age would ruin the future.”

“Charles the Great?”

“That is how the future knows him.” She smiled.

Otto nodded that time, but then he got serious. “But say, in order to be reborn, don’t you have to die? I thought when we die we go to heaven. Is this not so?”

Genevieve frowned again. “Once to die and after this the judgment. It is so as far as I know. And I do die, or at least I feel all the pain and loss and separation from everything dear to me, but I am not allowed to go to heaven.” She sniffed again. “I keep getting shoved back into a new womb of a new mother and get born nine months later in a new world as a know-nothing baby. It is years and I become my own person before I have any inkling that I lived before, and even that only happens when something important rears its head.”

“I see,” he said again as Genevieve began to cry softy.

“I am sure Heaven must be wonderful.” She wept. “Sometimes, I get so tired.”

“There, there.” He held her and comforted her.

They truly slept together for the first time that night. Genevieve thought it was good. She was happy. She hoped he was happy, though she certainly gave him a lot to think about.

Three days later, they headed out for Lausanne and Geneva, where Bernard picked up his army, including the men of Provence. The most difficult thing for Genevieve was saying good-bye to Margo, Nelly, and Edelweiss. Edelweiss chose to stay with her flower and the fairies in the mountains around Basel. Margo and Nelly decided they needed to stay with their families and the elves in the Black Forest where they could keep one eye on her home and the county of Breisach. There were plenty of tears, but they were not unhappy. Margo and Nelly said that now, since Genevieve married and had a son and would soon have a baby of her own they knew she would be happy. Genevieve blessed them and could not thank them enough for being there when she so desperately needed someone. After that, Captain Hector loaded Otto, Genevieve, and Leibulf with their men on three barges near the edge of the lake of Geneva, and they floated all the way down the Rhone River, mostly through Burgundian territory, to Arles where they received a hero’s welcome.

“Like Constantine returned,” Genevieve said as she got into the carriage.

“Any reason to celebrate these days is taken full advantage of,” Otto explained as he waved to the crowd.

“I can see that,” she said. “Provence is not exactly rolling in riches.” She practiced her own Queen Elizabeth sort-of-a-wave.

“The ground is difficult soil,” he continued to explain. “And the maritime trade that once made the county rich is all but dried up. Between the Vandals at first, and now the Saracens and pirates, there is not much room for legitimate merchants.”

“Then that is what we need to work on,” she said. “We strengthen the ports, get city walls started where needed, and build up the fleet. Then get Charles to take Corsica, and maybe Sardinia, assuming he will be successful against the Lombards.”

“What you say sounds very expensive,” Otto fretted for a minute.

“Think positive,” she said. “People will contribute to defending and protecting their own homes. Local men build city walls and fortify ports, and they will even build ships if there is a real chance for trade. I am not suggesting building a series of fortifications along the coast, and manning them with soldiers, all of which we would have to pay for. We may have to raise the taxes a bit, but people don’t mind paying taxes when they can see the money being used for their own benefit.”

Otto looked skeptical, but by then they arrived at the Archbishop’s palace where they would sup and stay the night before heading out for Aix in the morning. Aquae or Aix as Genevieve called it was roughly three days to Avignon, four days to Nice, two days to Arles or Toulon in opposite directions, and one day due north of Marseille. As such, it was about as centrally located as could be found in Provence. Otto could send troops to wherever there might be trouble on the coast within a few days, that is, if his troops were not all presently in Lombardy.

Otto, who could sit a horse just fine, rode the two days to Aix. Genevieve and Leibulf had to ride in the wagon. The Roman roads were well kept, but even so, they both got banged up traveling the road over those two days and agreed to get horses and learn to ride as soon as possible.

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

MONDAY

Provence faces external attacks. This is why Provence was made a Mach on the southern end of the Frankish Kingdom. Until Monday, Happy Reading.

*

M3 Gerraint: Amorica and the Suckers, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Within the week, letters had been sent by the swiftest couriers to all concerned in the four corners of the realm, to keep a sharp watch out for certain men.  Once that was done, there was a waiting game until word came back.

It did not take long before word came from land’s end, and what remained of Lyoness, that the Welshmen, Kvendelig, Gwarhyr and Menw, had taken ship for Amorica, accompanied by Lionel.  They were ostensibly going to visit Howel, now king of Amorica since his father Hoel had passed away, but Gerraint knew better.

With that, Gerraint was able to take Enid home.  They crossed on the ferry early in June and delighted in the weather.

“I will be so glad to see Guimier,” Enid admitted.

“You are going to spoil that poor child,” Gerraint said.

“Me?”  Enid looked up.  “You’re are the worst doting father I know.”

Gerraint nodded.  “Should have given me a daughter sooner.  Or we could have another and spread the wealth.”

Enid laughed and smacked his arm.  “Bite your tongue,” she said.  “If three is four as you say, that makes my forty-two years fifty-six in your Storyteller’s day, and not inclined to go through that again.  Guimier nearly killed me.”

“Just a thought.”  Gerraint never stopped smiling.  He took her up in his arms and she eagerly loved him.

“God, I will miss you.”  She laid her head on his chest and let a few quiet tears fall.

When they reached home and little Guimier, Gerraint had a hard time keeping his mind on the task.  The month was lovely for picnics and quiet times at the beach.  Peace was a wonderful thing, and Gerraint felt more certain than ever that at his age, his adventures ought to be over.  All the same, he tore himself away, and as a result, he found his time at home seemed all too short.  It did not take long to gather what they needed and prepare to sail across the channel.  The horses gave them a little trouble, but then horses generally did.  Once loaded and ready, however, all that remained were the good-byes and last hugs.

“Come home to me,” Enid said.

“As long as there is breath in me,” Gerraint responded.

“Get up there.”  Uwaine shouted at the last horse while Bedivere tugged from the other end.  Gerraint looked up and laughed.  He admitted that Bedivere was more Uwaine’s squire than his own, but for appearance sake, his sister Cordella was too much of a snob to have her son squire to less than a king.

“I’m Pulling,” Bedivere shouted as well.

“Try coaxing!”  Gerraint shouted the loudest to be heard.  The men stopped and he had to repeat himself.  “Try the carrot instead of the stick.”  Uwaine frowned and Bedivere went back to his pulling.  They ignored Gerraint’s suggestion completely.  “So much for being king.”  Gerraint shrugged.

Enid smiled at that as well.  “Go on,” she said, before Guimier starts crying again.  Gerraint hugged his girls and went, reluctant adventurer that he was.  Guimier waved the whole time until they were out of sight and Geraint imagined she was still waving as the afternoon wore on.

The channel seemed calm enough for June.  There were no clouds on the horizon, but then, Gerraint thought, this is not exactly D-Day, is it?

“Where do you think they will be?”  Bedivere asked as he leaned on the railing.  Uwaine stayed busy throwing up.

Gerraint shrugged.  “We go see Howel first.  You must always pay respects to the king of the country first before anything else.”

“But I was thinking,” Bedivere said.  “What if Howel is in on it all?  What if Lionel is in too?”

“Why?”  Gerraint asked to get his squire to think it through.  “Why should Amorica turn against Britain just because Hoel is dead and Howel is king?  They have been our good friends since Arthur gained the crown, and Howel rode with us many times into battle.  Besides, he has the sons of Claudus on his border and their revived Roman ideas, plus the Franks pushing in hard from the East.  It looks to me like Howel may need our help soon enough.  Why would he support the idea of bringing us to civil war?  It would seem to me that would be cutting off his nose, so to speak.”

“Yes,” Bedivere said.  “I see all that.  But…”  Something bumped the boat from beneath.  Gerraint had to grab Uwaine to keep him from falling overboard.

“Get that sail up.”  The Captain shouted.  Sailors began to scurry around the deck and some of them looked frightened.

“Beg pardon, Majesty, but keep out of the way!”  The mate was not polite about it.

“Bring her about,” the Captain commanded.  “Straight for the shallows.”  They were driving the ship with every scrap of sail they could hoist.  The bump came again.  One sailor screamed.

“Buckle up,” Gerraint said.  He stepped aside when no one was looking.  He called his armor out of its’ resting place in the Second Heavens.  His comfortable clothes vanished and the armor replaced them in the same instant.  Immediately, he drew his sword which was sometimes called the sword of the gods and which he called “Wyrd,” which means, fate.  It was the last gift of Hephaestus to King Bodanagus of the Nervi before the dissolution in the time of the gods.

The bump came a third time, and it felt as if something was trying to hold the ship in the deep.  The wood boards creaked and tried to pull apart.  Several nails popped and Uwaine could only imagine it was leaking down below.  The sailor screamed again, only this time for good reason.  A tentacle came crashing down on the foredeck and by chance, grabbed the man by the leg.

The mate was a good shot with the long fish hook.  He pinned the tentacle to the deck and the man became able to pull free, but he did a lot of screaming and a lot of struggle in the process.

“Not a good idea.”  Gerraint shouted and after stumbling across the deck, he cut the tentacle off where it was pinned so it could slip back into the water.  Bedivere and Uwaine had their swords out by then and they backed away toward the center of the ship.  Bedivere’s eyes in particular were big.

‘Look out!”  Someone shouted as the ship jerked and the center mast snapped at the rigging.  Something started trying to pull the ship apart.  The ship stretched, or bulged out at the sides, but thus far held together.  The ropes whipped in the wind for a couple of frightening seconds, nearly knocked one sailor overboard and thumped another in the chest, knocking him unconscious.  Then the horrific cracking started again as, in slow motion, the mast broke at the deck and fell over across the front of the boat.  They were dead in the water, and whatever it was, it had them in its’ terrible grasp.

“Another!”  Someone shouted, as a tentacle came up over the railing on the far side of the boat.  It slapped against the deck and began to slither like a snake, looking for something soft to grab.  Gerraint counted suction cups as Uwaine and Bedivere slashed at the tentacle from opposite sides.  It reacted by whipping worse than the ropes for a second and just missed slapping Bedivere in the face before it pulled slowly back into the water.

“Good Lord!”  The Captain swore.  “Damn thing’s twice the size of the ship!”    He, too, had been counting the cups and judging their size according to what little could be seen.  “At least.”

“What’s it doing in the channel?”  The mate shouted, but all the Captain could do was shrug as he and a few others struggled to get up some kind of sail.  They heard a crunching sound and the sound of horses going wild from below.  To Gerraint, this all seemed like more than just an accident.  Something felt very wrong here, and that feeling echoed through time, confirmed over and over.

It seemed to Amphitrite, as well, that something was very wrong in the sea.  She was a life Gerraint lived nearly two thousand years earlier and while it was not his habit to trade places through time, having learned long ago that it was important to fight his own battles, when something outside of the normal course of events became determined to interfere, he saw no reason why he should not fight fire with fire.

That crunching sound came from below again, and all Gerraint could imagine was that the squid was breaking through the hull like a squirrel breaking open a nut.  The horses were utterly panicked.  One minute, he wiped his sword clean and sheathed it.  The next, he was not there at all.  Amphitrite, goddess of the sea, stood in Gerraint’s place, and the armor, which had adjusted to her height and shape, she sent home, back under the Second Heaven, and replaced it with something more suitable.

Immediately, Amphitrite calmed the squid with a thought.  As the great goddess of the sea, making the squid let go was not difficult.  All the same, she realized the ship was not at all well, having suffered a great deal of damage.  She could have repaired the ship with another thought, but that was not the way of the gods.  People needed to suffer the fate that came upon them, but in this case, perhaps a partial exception was in order.  As far as it went, the mate had been right.  A squid that big had no business being in the channel.  So she picked the ship, crew and all, into the air and deposited it eighty miles away at the dock.  That took a second.  Then she made sure it would hold together long enough to unload.  At last she rushed back to her poor squid.

“You’re more than welcome,” she thought to the captain, but her senses were entirely trained on the beast.  She wanted to know who sent it.  It had to have been sent.  It could not have come on its’ own.  Sure enough, she saw the imprint on the squid’s mind.  It had been instructed to attack their specific ship.  Oddly, she was balked from discovering the reason for it or who was behind it.  All she got from the squid was a sense of evil which felt something like a fingerprint.  She had to content herself with the fact that she would recognize that fingerprint in the mind when she found it again, and she took the animal safely back to the depths of the Atlantic where it belonged.

Avalon 6.8 Archidamian War’s End, part 6 of 6

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

On the edge of town, three Wolv jumped them.  They got blown back by the screens Elder Stow set around the group.  The Wolv did their best with tooth and claw, but that did nothing to impede the steady progress of the group.

When they entered the village square, where the Humanoid ship faced them at the far end of the open space, a dozen Wolv opened fire with their handguns.  It did nothing.  The Wolv soon stopped and backed away.  The patrol-transport ship screamed and produced one burst of its main gun before the gun appeared to shut down.  Patrol ships got outfitted with some of the most powerful Humanoid weaponry.  Those ships tended to be engines, weapons, and some reasonable screen capabilities against intruders.  Crew quarters and work spaces were cramped, and they had minimal navigation, limited life-support, and limited other systems interstellar ships had.  They were not made to leave the solar system.  But they had weapons, and Elder Stow remarked as he considered his readout.

“Impressive.  They have found a new energy source and improved on the old Anazi technology.”  Of course, the shot hardly registered visibly on Elder Stow’s screens.  Elder Stow only had a small, handheld screen device such as a ship’s officer might carry, but such was the technological difference between the younger races, like the Humanoids, and the elder races, like the Gott-Druk.  Elder Stow said no more as the Humanoid commander came out of the ship, followed by three more Humanoids and a dozen Wolv as guards.

As the Humanoids marched to face their visitors, a lovely young woman showed up, and gave Ophelia a big hug. “Galatea,” Ophelia named her.  “I thought I might see you.”

Galatea nodded.  “I had to figure out how to slip inside Elder Stow’s screens. Even though the gods know how to do that, now.  It isn’t easy.  I had to really think about it.  I may get a headache…”

“Good for you, now, hush.” Ophelia smiled for the woman before she turned with a serious face to the approaching Humanoids.

“Your Amph… Salacia husband wants to help,” Galatia whispered.

“Yes.  Hush,” Ophelia said.  “Zeuxides.”

Zeuxides stepped forward with the blanket.  He whispered as he laid it out on the ground, revealing the six heads.  “I don’t know why we didn’t take some Wolv heads.  That might have put a bit of fear in the beasts.”

“First of all, they are people, not beasts,” Ophelia said.  “They walk and talk, and as you have seen, they follow orders.  But second of all, they have no word for fear.  They do not even understand the concept.  The closest they have for the word fear is their word for indigestion.”

“Then, if one wants to eat me, I hope I can give it indigestion,” Zeuxides whispered as he stood.

“What?” the Humanoid Captain yelled the word as he came to face his visitors, though his eyes fastened on the six Humanoid heads.  By the grace of the gods, probably Proteus, because Galatea would not think of it, Ophelia and Zeuxides could understand and communicate with the Humanoids. Ophelia had imagined using Elder Stow as a translator.

“The troops you sent to scout the area are all dead.  We brought you these so you can perform the proper rituals.  Understand.  This is not a sanctuary planet for you or your people.  This is a Genesis planet, and as such is off limits to you and your people.  You have no business being here, and I know it is marked on your charts as a no-go zone.”

“Aaaah!” The Captain shouted and threw his hands in the air in a very human act of frustration and anger. Ophelia looked closely and judged him to be a young lord from a noble Humanoid house.  “I don’t even know what that means…”

One of the Humanoid commanders leaned forward and asked.  “What is a Genesis planet?”

Ophelia only paused briefly before answering.  “It is one of a dozen or so worlds in this whole galaxy where intelligent life spawns or is created.  At some point in the development of the species, the powers of the universe spread the life forms among the stars.  Most of the people you have come into contact with during your age of exploration among the stars had their beginning here, on Earth, or on the Pendratti world, which is now barren.”  She pointed to Elder Stow and his glamour of humanity fell away to reveal his Neanderthal nature.  “The Gott-Druk and the Elenar, both of whom I know you have in your records, began on this world.”  She pointed to Zeuxides.  “This world presently belongs to the Homo Sapiens, who you dare not underestimate, though their technology appears primitive to your eyes.  The very powers of the universe will fight to protect this world, and its residents.  You are being given a chance to leave before you are utterly destroyed.”

“But we have nowhere else to go,” the captain still shouted, only now he sounded desperate.   Ophelia caught a word from one of her lifetimes, far in the future.  She decided to go with that thought.

“Your father threw you out.”  She said it like a statement, not a question. “And how many ships do you have in orbit?”

The captain said nothing.  He just steamed, but the Humanoid commander spoke frankly.  “Seven. Two war ships, three transports carrying several thousand people, no Wolv, and two more patrol boats, one being a patrol-transport.”

The captain interrupted.  “But you heard.  We have nowhere else to go.”  This time, his words were softly spoken and he sounded like one resigned to his fate.

The sky turned dark.  Thunder echoed through the village.  Stroke after stroke of lightning struck the fields near the beach.  A giant rose out of the water and headed straight toward them.  He only needed a few steps to reach the edge of the village, at which point he stood only twenty or so feet tall, as he shrank when he neared. When he came around a barn to reach the main street, only the top of his gray head could be seen.  When he arrived where the group of people stood, he looked human enough, though still bigger than Zeuxides, who stood an imposing six feet tall in his generally smaller world.

“I can help with that,” the man said. “I know a planet in an untouched system that should sustain you.  The world is bigger than earth, but not like double.  There is an atmosphere and animal life there, after a fashion, so an edible food source.  The star gives about half the heat and light of the sun, but the planet is closer.  It goes around in about two hundred and maybe thirty days.  The weather stays cool and dreary, but it is livable, about thirty some of your light years out in the Gott-Druk direction. In fact, I know several systems, if you are willing to travel up to fifty light years.”

“You will take us there?” the Humanoid commander asked, not waiting for his captain to speak up.

The man shook his head.  “I am not my wife to travel all over the sky; but with a kiss from my wife, and maybe if I can borrow Martok, he can put the information in your, er, navigation system.”  He grinned for remembering what the system was called.

Ophelia dropped her jaw.  “Taking liberties, I see.”  She turned to the others.  “Elder Stow, I’ll be back.  Zeuxides, close your eyes.”  She turned again to the man.  “Both parties are agreeable,” she said, speaking of Amphitrite and Martok.  “Especially since the alternative would involve several atomic explosions in the upper atmosphere.”  Ophelia traded places through time with Amphitrite, the goddess, who stepped eagerly into her husband Poseidon’s arms.  After a moment, those two, the Humanoids, the Wolvs, and the patrol ship all vanished.

Proteus and Galatea also vanished, so that left Elder Stow, who restored his glamour so he looked human again, and Zeuxides, who didn’t close his eyes, but wished he had.  He asked, “So where did Ophelia go?”

Elder Stow shrugged as they walked back up the hill.  “Somewhere into the past, or the future, or somewhere in between.”

“Who was that who came and stood in her place?”

“Amphitrite, I believe.”

Zeuxides swallowed.  “So that giant was…”

“Poseidon.”

Zeuxides nodded.  “So, when Ophelia said Proteus and Galatea, she meant Proteus and Galatea.”

“I would say, yes.”

Zeuxides nodded and swallowed again. “And are you human?”

“Certainly,” Elder Stow said with some force in his voice.  “Homo Neanderthal, not Homo Sapiens, but that still qualifies as human.  In fact, we are close enough on the genesis tree, we can even mate with each other, as disgusting as that sounds.”

Zeuxides said nothing the rest of the way up the hill.

“So, where did they go?” Lockhart asked the same question Zeuxides asked.

“They went to visit the ruins of Malvas,” Elder Stow said, with a nod.

“Where’s Malvas?” Lincoln asked.

“There are ruins on Malvas?” Katie asked at the same time.

Elder Stow pointed to the sky as he spoke.  “An orange star.  It became unstable about two thousand years ago, my time.  It kicked a habitable planet about three times its original distance from the star, according to the reconstructed theory.  The survey team found a city, but determined it had been abandoned a hundred years before the star bloomed.  The star has returned to its more stable condition since, but now there are ruins on the ice rock that was probably once an earth-like planet.”

“So why would they go to a place that has ruins?” Decker wanted to know.

“It doesn’t have ruins yet,” Elder Stow responded, and looked up at the sky as the sun sank to the horizon.

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

MONDAY

The travelers head toward Rome, and the Kairos, Marcia Furi Camilla Diana; but first, they have to get past the witch.  Until then, Happy Reading.

*

R6 Greta: Cleaning Up, part 1 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Greta took her seat on the battements and stewed all afternoon.  She kept her eyes on the enemy in the distance and fretted.  There did not seem to be much movement, not much to see, but they were still there.  They did not look to be leaving anytime soon, and that worried her.  She knew she should have been tending the wounded. That was her real job, not the Kairos’ job, it remained Greta’s job, but she felt bloated, and rotten like the weather, and drained from a day that seemed too long already.  She slept briefly in her chair, a cold afternoon nap, but woke up covered in blankets, a pillow on the ground, which she guessed had once been put behind her head.  Someone cared.

Pincushion made her eat some soup which was not hard because it tasted really good, and Greta had the good sense not to ask what was in it.  Then Pincushion, Karina and Snowflake went off to play with the children.  Greta got grumpy.  She missed her children.

Goldenrod and Oreona checked on her and told her Ulladon was sleeping in the deeps.  They were happy that things went so well, but Greta added, “so far,” and she did not feel sure how well things really went.  The reports she got in passing were a thousand defenders dead and a thousand who would be dead soon enough.  Darius told her there were as many as five hundred or so, a rough estimate, who might be saved if the Roman physicians and various tribal healers could hack off enough limbs before they got infected.  Greta knew in practice, more than half of them would die as well.

The rest of the men were in good spirits, her Father told her.  She listened. He said beyond their casualties, there were as many as a thousand more among the various groups of people who would survive and heal, but who were wounded seriously enough to where they would not be fighting much.  He said both Hans and Bragi fought well and she should be proud of her brothers.  He said he was glad Mother stayed with the children, far away from there.  Icechip, still riding on Father’s shoulder, picked up something of Greta’s distress.

“I never knew what war was like before.  I’m sorry so many had to die,” he said, and it sounded heart felt.

Greta sniffed and turned her back on them and Father left with a word that he would check on her again, later.  She missed her children.

Mavis went off with Hermes and Captain Ardacles’ troop to clean up the mess, as she called it.  Wagons went out over the field all afternoon collecting the dead and wounded.  By two o’clock, it began to drizzle softy and Rhiannon showed up.  She said nothing, but made something like a beach umbrella against the rain so Greta could continue to sit and stay dry.  It felt like Rhiannon wanted to say something, but she did not.  She looked sad when she disappeared into the misty rain.

Vedix and Bogus came and sat with her for a while. Neither said much, not even to each other, and after a time they quit the rain and went to find shelter. Alesander and Briana showed up moments later and Briana had an announcement.

“We want to get married.”

“And this is news?” Greta asked.

“Her father has given his blessing if it is all right with you,” Alesander said, and kissed Briana on the cheek.  She responded with a loving and happy face.

“I have said a thousand times, I will not be the decider of such things.”  Greta sounded angry, though she did not mean to be.  “You know what marriage is.  The union between one man and one woman is not to be entered into lightly, but if it is what you want, it is not my place to approve or object.  Personally, I wish you nothing but happiness, but you make your own decisions.”

“So, yes?” Briana asked.

“Yes.  Go on. Have fun.  Get fat.  Have babies. Scat.”  Greta snorted and looked across the field, though in the drizzle, she could hardly see the enemy.  She knew Briana and Alesander stood and kissed for a while, but she ignored them and paid no attention when they left, holding tight to each other and laughing at the rain.

It became four, or close enough.  The sky got ready to turn a dreary afternoon into the equivalent of an early night, when Greta thought she finally saw some movement in the distant camps.  She listened in her mind and caught words first from Longbow, the elf.

“The Scythian chief has convinced the others to make one last try.  He says they damaged the defenders in the first attacks and now the defenders are weak and ready to fall.  He says they would all be cowards if they ran away.  One good drive against the center, and the Romans will break and fall apart is what he says.  He knows the Legion in Porolissum is the only serious Roman presence in the whole province, and once they break through there will be nothing to stand in their way all the way to the Danube.  All of the outsider tribes are leery, but the Scythian has convinced half of the Sarmatians to lead the charge.  That is about five thousand lances.”

“The other tribes will follow,” Treeborn the fairy King interrupted.  “They are preparing as we speak.”

Lord Horns added one thought.  “Though they no longer feel the urging of Mithras, I think the Scythian chief is interested in what he calls the mountain of gold that the Romans have mined and guarded so carefully.”

“Don’t I know it,” Portent peeped, and Greta cut off the long-distance conversation.  Now she had a headache and was not sure if it would turn into a migraine.

Greta stood alone when she stood.  She looked over at the men’s side where Tribune Hadrianus had a tarp erected against the rain.  The constant drizzle actually stopped an hour earlier, but the sky remained as dark and dreary as it had been all day, and water continued to drip now and then off the edge of the tarp where the water had collected.

Darius, who spent the day watching her from a distance and feeling powerless to comfort her, noticed right away when she stood. Cecil saw and pointed.  Olaf, Venislav and Hadrianus all looked and genuine concern covered their faces.  “Darius,” Greta called, and he came to hear what she had to say.  The others followed out of curiosity,

“They are preparing for another attack.  The Scythian chief will not let them wait until the morning for fear they may desert in the night.  They believe the legion here is the only thing standing between them and the riches of Dacia.  They believe the legion is the only form of Roman power in the province. They are wrong.”  Greta scooted up to Darius and gave him a quick kiss with a word.  “Pardon me, my love.”  She went away, and Amphitrite, the one worshiped as Salacia by the Romans, the wife of Neptune, god of the sea, came to stand in her place.  Olaf, Cecil and Venislav all took a step back.  Hadrianus looked too stunned to move, but Darius grinned and hid his grin as Salacia shouted at the sky.

“Fluffer, Sprinkles, Bubbles, get ready for a wild ride.” Salacia raised her hands, reached into the sky and took hold of the clouds.  She caused a great wind to blow over her shoulder, and another to come pouring over the distant mountains.  They crashed over the enemy camps with hurricane force, and Salacia squeezed her hands.  Torrents of rain fell and whipped through the wind.  It drove the men back and some men drowned from the fury of the liquid assault. A number of tornados formed from the contrary winds, and men panicked.

Many men scattered and fell to the ground in fear, or were lifted by the winds and slammed again on the ground or blown for miles. Tents were ripped up and shredded. Horses stampeded.  Some men, horses, wagons and equipment got caught in the tornadoes and tossed away, sometimes landing on other men.  When Salacia really got things going, she began to dance with glee on the battlement.  The wind ripped up whole trees and threw around wagon-sized boulders. The rain came with hail the size of bowling balls and sleet that fell in whole sheets of sharp edges.  Then at once, Salacia decided it was enough, and it all stopped, instantly.

Salacia let her face appear on the clouds where she could look down on the devastation she caused and the survivors who cowered all over the ground.  They looked so puny and helpless, but Salacia thought there still might be something to say. She said two words.  “Go home,” and the words were not only heard and understood by all, but they reverberated for a moment inside thousands of minds. Then Salacia returned in her power to the battement on which she physically stood.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,” Salacia said, almost too softy to hear, but she grinned as she thought of Festuscato, and she frowned as she thought of all those ships and sailors who died at sea when her temper flared after Poseidon did something stupid.  Then she smiled again as she remembered her cult had always been one to care for the widows and orphans of the sea, a small payment for her guilt, and she thought of her friends and her own children, Triton, Proteus and Nyssa.  She frowned again when she remembered poor Orion, and how she lost him in a terrible accident, and even as a goddess, she could not do anything to save him.  She went away and let Greta return, and Greta reached up to Darius for another kiss, which Darius was happy to give.

“Sorry love,” she said, and with one hand on her belly and without another word, she turned and walked slowly back to Karina’s house where she had the best sleep she had in years.  When she woke up the next morning, there was not an enemy to be found, and she finished Salacia’s thought about children by admitting she missed her own.

R5 Greta: The End of the Day, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

They were in the tent with Darius who was lying down, recovering from his many small wounds from the battle.  Bragi was not present, but Salacia decided that would be just as well.  She let the first wave of forgetfulness pass by unhindered.  They forgot all about the guns.  But she protected them from the second wave.  Darius would have a place among the little ones and needed to know. Hans would marry one, though she had become fully human now.  And Berry could hardly be allowed to forget.  There would have been almost no Berry left if she forgot her little ones.

“Greta?”  Hans remembered.

“Yes,” she said.  “Amphitrite.”  She looked at Darius.  “Salacia.” She spoke to him.  She felt a bit anxious.  She did not know exactly how he might react and prying into his thoughts and heart would have been extremely improper.

Darius smiled and held out his hand.  “It’s all right,” he said.  “Berry explained it to me.”

Salacia took his hand but spoke honestly.  “I do not love you as she does, you know.  I still love my husband, though he is now gone from me.”

Darius seemed to think for a minute, but he got it. “I understand.” he said.  “I certainly would not be interested in any of the men you have been, either.”  He laughed, a little, almost.  “But seriously,” he went on.  “You must know how I feel.  I don’t suppose I could live without her at this point, but she has been so hot and cold. Does she really love me or not?”

Salacia smiled.  “But if I tell you that, I will be mad at myself for years.”  Darius thought again, but he did not quite understand what she meant.  “Let me say this,” she went on.  “You are not the problem.  In the past, her love sometimes got met with derision.  She does not think highly of herself, and especially the way she looks.”

“What is wrong with the way she looks?”  Darius asked.  “I think she is beautiful.  I think she is perfect.”

“Perhaps she had better tell you.”  Salacia said and went back to her own time to let Greta stand awkwardly on her own two feet, still holding Darius’ hand.

“Well?”  Darius asked.

“Well,” Greta said and looked down at her too big feet. How could Amphitrite do this to her? Too late.  She did get mad at herself for having a big mouth, one the size of the Pacific!  “Well, its’ my eyes.  They are just ordinary brown, and my nose is too big and my hair is like wild straw, and there is too much of me, and I don’t want to talk about it.”  She paused to sniff so she wouldn’t cry.

Darius took her by the chin and lifted her face to his.  “I see golden hair and eyes to match, sparkling with life.  I see a small and dainty nose.  You should see the ones in Rome.  And lips, so full and red which I have kissed.  I would not trade them for all the gold in the world. And as for the rest.”  He paused to look.  “That will have to wait until we are married,” he teased.  Of course, she threw herself at him and he did nothing to resist.  After only a moment, though, they parted.  Hans and Berry were in the room, after all.

“I love you,” Greta said.

“I love you, too,” Darius returned.

They both grinned like fools until Greta had to turn and run from the tent.  Her feelings would not let her walk.  She found Hans standing by the tent door and Berry some distance away, sitting alone, looking sad, almost desperate.

“What is it, sweet?”  Greta asked, feeling oddly maternal in a strange way she never felt before.  She put her arms around the girl and hugged her.

“My tummy hurts.”  Berry said.  “And now I am bleeding a little.”  She reached over to hold on.  “Am I going to die?”

Greta laughed.  “No, sweet.  You are not going to die.  You are human.  That’s all.” And she sat and talked with Berry while the ripples of forgetfulness did their work.

At last, Greta knew she had to get back to Marcus. She stood and traded places once more with Amphitrite.  She gave Berry a quick kiss on the forehead and floated off, invisible to all the world. She let her consciousness search far beyond the battlefield.  The ripples had done the job.  But she spied Greta’s Papa on the road, and Mama came with him.

When she entered the room, Centurion Alesander was there with Sergeant Lucius, examining the men.

“What magic is this?”  Alesander asked.

“I don’t know.”  The sergeant answered.  “But I don’t like it.”

The goddess slowly let herself come into focus.

“Salacia.”  Alesander named her and fell to his knees.  He had worshiped in her shrine all of his life as had his mother and father, and she loved him for it; but Sergeant Lucius took a couple of steps back.

“Mithras defend me,” the sergeant said.

Salacia placed her hand on Alesander’s head and blessed him, and with a final thought she changed the writings of Marcus and General Pontius to reflect the new gunless and fairyless reality.  Then she looked up at the Sergeant and spoke sternly.

“I told someone just yesterday morning, Mithras does not come here.  It would be his life if he did.”  She waved her hand to set Marcus and General Pontius free and vanished, to appear again as Greta, just outside the door.

“General.”  The sergeant spoke.  “Salacia was here.  Probably drawn by the creation of the new lake and streams.”  Greta knew the General was another Mithrite.  She remembered the Roman army was full of that pretender’s disciples.

“Nonsense,” Marcus spoke, sternly.  “The gods, if they even exist, would not be drawn to these back woods no matter what happened here.  What is it, Greta?  I thought our business had finished.”  Marcus sounded cordial, but stiff.  The joy and play were gone from him.  He did not seem inclined to give in to any emotion, and Greta felt that reality like a cut to her heart.

“Papa and Mama will be here this afternoon,” she said.

“I know,” Marcus responded flatly.  “I sent for them as soon as I assessed the situation here.  I thought your father might end this trouble in a bloodless way, but that was before the Quadi showed up.  Been listening to my guards?”

“No,” Greta said.  “I saw them from above when my mind was in the clouds.”

Marcus grimaced.  “Of course,” he said.  “Wise woman talk.”  He looked down at his papers.

“But what right did you have calling him here when he should to be home, healing?” she asked.

“He is a man who knows his duty,” Marcus said as he gave Alesander a sharp look.  “But I would not expect a woman to understand that.”

Greta swallowed several things she wanted to say. She helped Alesander to his feet, and she still had enough of Salacia’s aura about her to make him respond.

“Did you see her?” Alesander asked.

“No,” Greta said, honestly enough.  She helped the Centurion to a place where he could have some solitude for a time, and then she hurried off.  She wanted to get back to Darius, but some soldiers stopped her on the way.  They reminded her of her duty to the wounded, and especially in the makeshift hospital she had made of the Roman fort.  She cursed, but for old time’s sake and for Berry’s sake, she could not help sticking her tongue out at Marcus, no matter how many rooms away he was at that point.  Women don’t understand doing one’s duty?  What an idiotic thing for Marcus to say!

Years later, Darius thanked Greta one night while they sat before the hearth in the governor’s mansion.  He said because of all the magic and wonder that surrounded her life, it saved him from becoming an emotionless statue, like Marcus.

“Was it just the magic?” she asked, and he showed her that it was not.

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

MONDAY

It would not be right to leave you without some thoughts concerning what is to come for Greta, Berry, Hans, Fae, and Hobknot.  As I said, the work of the Kairos never seems to be over.  There is always some witch, creature, or monstrosity knocking on her door…especially on Halloween.  Until Monday, Happy Reading.

 

*

R5 Greta: The End of the Day, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Anything else?”  Greta stood.

“No.  I need to finish these correspondences now.  I want the couriers to leave for Rome in the morning,” he said.

“I suppose I had better go prepare myself to go to Rome,” she said.  “To meet Darius’ father, and probably your father, too.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Marcus said. He looked up one last time.  “A sweet barbarian girl like you with all of your special talents.  Lady goddess.”  He smiled and half saluted in Greta’s direction.

Greta returned his smile.  “Big oaf.”  And she returned his half salute before she stepped into the hallway.  She heard Marcus ask the General.  “What is an oaf?”  She almost felt the General shrug as she traded places through time with Salacia and Salacia caused the two men to freeze where they stood.  She felt sorry for what she had to do, but it got decided the day before when Greta had to call on the good Doctor Mishka to dig a few bullets out of the wounded.  She felt especially sorry for Marcus.  He had become so human, so alive in these back woods.  She felt sure it would kill him.

Salacia floated out over the battlefield.  A full day later, and there were still bodies littered all around.  Nearly a thousand men had been killed in the battle.  That number would triple, perhaps quadruple in the days and weeks ahead. Salacia was not authorized to simply heal everyone.  Generally, sparing people from the consequences of their actions was the worst thing a goddess could do.  There were rare exceptions, but this was not one of them, and Salacia felt sorry for that as well.

Salacia floated to earth and materialized beside the main stream which flowed out of the remains of the mount.  She supposed her appearance looked like the appearance of Glinda, the good witch of the north.  She did not mean for it to be that way, but she did not really pay attention.  She imagined some men saw her appear and fell to their faces.  She felt sorry to ignore them, too.

Her attention stayed riveted on the top part of the great statue of Odin.  The head, one arm upraised in blessing, and the chest were planted firmly in the mud beside the new stream.  It looked very much like the top of the statue of liberty at the end of the original Planet of the Apes movie.

Vasen stood there, staring at the statue, weeping softly.  Apparently, Marcus decided to leave the Priest alone.  When Salacia walked up beside the man, she became fully manifest but had toned down her awesome nature to near human levels.  She might have passed for an ordinary lady out for a stroll apart from being so inhumanly beautiful and attractive.

Vasen looked up.  “It’s all gone, you know.”  He spoke through his tears.

“Nonsense,” she said.  “It has not yet begun.”  With a mere thought, she pushed the edges of the mount into the deep until it truly became a large lake, fed by underground springs.  Her mind followed the stream as it ran through the forest, and she only altered the course slightly to make it meet the Sylvan River at the swamps.  She wanted the stream to clean out some of the horrors of that area, and she made it so.

Vasen stood up.  He watched her, curious.  She lifted her arms.  All of the guns, the bullets and everything that did not belong in that time floated up in the air, and in a wink, she sent it to Avalon.  They were museum pieces now.

“Excuse me, my Lady,” Vasen spoke.  “Do I know you?”

“After a fashion,” she said.  “My name is Amphitrite, but the Romans call me Salacia in their tongue.”

“I’m sorry?”  Vasen looked confused.  “But a fine lady such as yourself should not be out here on the battlefield.  There are still things about that a lady should not see.”

“Nonsense,” Salacia said again.  “But I really came only to say goodbye to Granfather Woden.” She blew a gentle kiss to the statue, and the statue quietly crumbled to so much gravel.  She made the gravel line the bed of the new stream.

Vasen went to his knees.  He began to weep again.  “goddess.”  He called her rightly.  “Why did the temple have to be destroyed?  It is all gone now.”

“Hush,” she said and brushed his hair with her hand. “I told you once already.  Men will come, from the Greeks, the Macedonians, from Byzantium and the East, and they will be clothed in power from the Most-High.  They will speak of the one who was raised up on the third day, and all of the people will be drawn to them, to worship the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.” Salacia kissed the top of Vasen’s head, and he forgot all about the weapons of Trajan.  An earthquake released the water from below and that destroyed both the temple and the mount.  The people were in plain rebellion, but the Romans and the people with them won the day, and turned back the invasion of the Quadi, besides.  She let that thought ripple out from that place like one stone thrown into a calm pool.  The circle of forgetfulness spread until it reached for miles and miles.

Vasen calmed when she kissed him a second time.  He forgot all about the little ones, about Thorn and Thissle, about Avalon, and Greta’s place among them.  She let this also spread, but certain ones she protected. The Romans, Dacians and Celts all thought the knights of the lance belonged to the others, and that, she felt, might help keep some in line.  Vasen even forgot his vision of the goddess hovering over him that moment, but Salacia left the vision of Danna among the Celts.  She hoped that vision would promote peace.  Then like the ripples from the pebble, she let that fading of the memory spread out from there until it touched all whom it needed to touch.

Salacia vanished from that place and appeared in the secret place in the forest.

Bogus the Skin, Gorse, Ragwart and Thunderhead all appeared.  They had no choice, though Thunderhead kept sleeping.

Bogus uncovered his head and nudged Ragwart to do the same.  “It’s not our lady, Greta,” he whispered to Gorse.  “It’s out great lady herself.”

“I can see that,” Gorse whispered back, and whipped off his hat.

“What?”  Ragwart did not quite catch it.

“We’ve stopped all eleven riders,” Bogus said, and took a very humble step forward.  “I don’t believe any got through.”  He pointed to a great pile of things.  There were a couple of guns, but mostly spears, swords, a couple of tents, several cooking pots minus the ones the little ones kept, one wagon load of mason tools, and so on.  And there were only three riders.

“Thank you,” Salacia said, and smiled, and loved them dearly.  She sent the pile to Avalon and sent Thunderhead back to his bed, never to know he had not been there the whole time.  “Berry is fully human now,” she told Bogus.  “But if you have Fae for a time, be content.  Only try not to corrupt her.  She is a sweet woman, and remember she is still half human.”

“Too late,” Bogus said.  “If she has taken up with that old bachelor, Hobknot, you can be sure she’s been corrupted already.”  Bogus shook his head.

Salacia laughed a merry little laugh.  “Be good boys.  No more stealing,” she said, and disappeared to appear instantly where Fae, Hobknot, Thorn and Thissle were celebrating their survival.

“Oh, dear,” Fae said.

“Great Lady.”  Thissle curtsied, fairy style, as well as she could.

Thorn and Hobknot were quiet, but Salacia knew why.

“No.”  She said, simply.  “You cannot go to Greta’s wedding.  You know the rule.  You may have a celebration apart, but you are not allowed to mingle with humans.”  She got firm and sounded like the roar of thunderous waters crashing against the rocks.  Such interactions caused no end of trouble and caused her no end of headaches. “Now Fae.”  She went on a little less firm.  “You may visit your sister from time to time, but make sure you are not seen.  Your work may still be in this world, but your place is now separate and apart.”

Hobknot lifted his hand and looked so uncharacteristically meek, Salacia almost laughed again.  She handed him two bags of grain and seed, and two containers of milk and one of sweet honey.  She gave the same to Thorn and Thissle, though they claimed they needed nothing.

“Remember Nameless in the spring, and the Don, the mother goddess in the fall.”  Salacia said.  “Remember Junior whenever the north wind blows, and me in the long, hot summer. Think of me wherever the waters run cool and clean.”  She vanished. She went to see Hans and Berry.

R5 Greta: Woman of the Ways, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“I believe you,” Caesar said, as they set his chair upright.  Caesar seemed to need to sit down, so Bodanagus joined him.  “Salacia?”  Caesar added. He remembered what Bodanagus had said.

“Amphitrite.” Bodanagus named her in the Greek. “I lived her life, what?  Sixteen hundred years ago at least.  It was before Akalantas sank into the sea.”

Caesar hardly knew what to say.  He sweated and looked dazed.  “How many others?”  He asked at last.  Bodanagus understood well enough.

“Many, but I only rightly remember a few.  There is Candace of Nubia and Lydia of Tarsus, but neither of them has yet been born. There is Ali among the Arabs in the East.  He, too, will face his Caesar in Trajan in the days to come.  And then there is the Princess and the Storyteller, Doctor Mishka, an excellent field surgeon from the Russian front, 1914, and Diogenes of Pella. I did mention that I was once Alexander’s cousin, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” Caesar said, and his face brightened at last.  Clearly, he had great admiration for Alexander the Great. “Do tell me about him.”

Bodanagus shook his head.  “There will be time for that.  We make peace first.”

After a brief moment, Caesar nodded.  He became his pragmatic self again.  “I must hold what I take, but no God will interfere?”  He checked.

Bodanagus nodded.

“And how will this be enforced?” Caesar wondered.

“I will be going with you,” Bodanagus said, without emotion.

“But will you not return to your people and your home and family?” Caesar asked.

“I will return to conclude the peace, but I no longer have any family.”  Bodanagus felt the deep stabbing wound of the loss of his wife, now seven days gone.  The grief nearly overwhelmed him in that moment, and it might have if he had not forced himself to think of something else.  He thought of Sheik Ali, the Arab in the days before Islam.  Rome would have her limits, he thought, and they would be set by a Spirit infinitely greater than the gods.  Still, there was much work yet to do.

###

Ali looked out from his hilltop hideaway over the camp of the Roman armies.  Panic gripped the camp as the massive explosions shook the earth itself.  The factory that made the weapons of Trajan became rubble, but there was much work yet to do.  He remembered.  All of this had to be cleaned up to the last detail lest some future archeologist flip out. Amphitrite volunteered to help, and Ali felt grateful.  At the moment, he remembered the grief of Bodanagus, and his own grief due to his own losses in his own war with Rome mingled in, like salt in the wound.  He reached out through time and Amphitrite came to stand in his place.  The goddess looked first to the moon, full and bright overhead.  Ever so briefly she thought she saw the face of Artemis in the sculptured face of the moon; but then it had to be her imagination.  The time of dissolution had long since passed.

“You missed a wagon train of guns and ammunition.”  Artemis seemed to say.

Amphitrite nodded. “My Greta will have to deal with that. The guns will never reach Rome. They will be hijacked along the way and I feel my Greta may be my next life after Ali.

“I miss you.” The face of Artemis beamed down and looked to be filled with tears.  Amphitrite cried for her very best friend in all the world.

###

Greta opened her own tear filled eyes and saw the full moon shining down.  It appeared full, her Artemis moon.  She had always called it that, only now she knew why. Then she saw the creature in the window and frail Mother Hulda holding it at bay with her broom.

“Werewolf,” Greta cried, and her hand sprang up, almost of its’ own volition.  A
bright light, light as day, streamed out from her hand and struck the creature square in the face.  The wolf howled and became engulfed in flames.  It turned and raced back into the woods with all speed.

Mother Hulda turned at last and gasped at what she saw.  Amphitrite was still present in the room for an instant before she vanished and Greta came home.  Greta considered what a strange birthday she had just before she collapsed to the floor. She remained unconscious for three days.

###

When Greta woke, she found herself at home and in her own bed.  Mama hovered there.  She rushed to the bed the moment Greta breathed for her.  Hans appeared there too, and very sensibly brought her some water. Greta felt dehydrated.

“Thanks.” Greta spoke through Mama’s tears. Hans spit on his two fingers. Greta had no spit but she touched his fingers with her own and smiled as well as her cracked lips allowed.  They were a team.

Mother Hulda came in quickly.  She had moved to their house when Drakka, Rolfus, Sanger and Koren carried Greta the two miles to her home.  Mother Hulda said she had seen the gifted pass out for a time after a particularly draining experience; but after two days she became as worried as the rest. Outwardly, she kept up a good appearance and claimed she only wanted to be near in case Yani went into labor.

Once it became clear that Greta would recover, Hans quickly wagged his tongue.  “Absolutely everybody has been by to see you. Vanesca and Yanda have been here every day, and Venice, Karina and Liselle came by.  Karina is absolutely beautiful.  And all of the young men, the older ones, I mean.  Koren carried you some of the way and he has been here every day. And Sanger carried some, I think, but Drakka carried you most of the way by himself.  He said it would just not be right not having you around.”

“Drakka said that?”  Greta breathed.  “What else did he say?”

“That’s pretty much it,” Hans said, before Mother Hulda and Mama made him go away.

“Let her rest,” Mother Hulda said, and Mama brought Greta some broth and a little bread, if she felt up to it.

It took three more days to recover, and all the while, Greta refused to talk about what she had seen.  In part, she felt afraid if she talked about it, it might all come crashing down on her head again.  It all seemed so real, Nameless, Danna, Salacia, though she had not experienced living their lives.  Then there was the Princess and the Storyteller, Diogenes and the good Doctor Mishka, and Bodanagus and Ali, of course.  And her fear was not helped by her staying in bed.  While there, she discovered two more lifetimes, and her feelings of closeness to them was especially distracting.  One was Festuscato, Senator of Rome, and the other, Goreau, or rather Gerraint, Prince of Cornwall, and they felt very close, indeed. This time, though, she only had dreams.

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

MONDAY

R5 Greta, The Little Mother. Greta begins to move into the position of the Woman of the Ways, as Mother Hulda encourages her.  But, as always, in the life of the Kairos, nothing is ever so simple.  Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Avalon 5.1 Sirens Are for Emergencies, part 6 of 6

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Thalia, Alesandros and the travelers could not get Mother Evadne to calm down and speak.  Fortunately, old Mother Delphine came in, neither running nor screaming, and she explained.

“Lord Andipas and his Akoshian sailors came just before dawn.  They locked us in the orphanage, and scared the children, terribly.  They hitched the mule to the wagon and filled it with things taken from the barn.  They went into the temple and brought some more things, but they did not get the horses.  I believe they were afraid of the big horses.  But they left for the village when the light of Apollo first touched the horizon.”

Everything belonging to the travelers got taken from the temple, except Boston’s blanket, which they must have missed.  The travelers rushed outside, and found the horses grazing peacefully on the spring grass fed by the rain.  They called, and the horses trotted right up.

“We have to go after them,” Katie said to Lockhart, who nodded and held his head, like he was getting a headache in the sunlight.

“Bareback?” Lincoln did not object too loud.

“It is what we got,” Decker said, as he shouldered his rifle and helped Elder Stow mount without stirrups to place his feet.  Lincoln helped Alexis, and then climbed up on Cortez, who stayed remarkably patient for a horse.  Rodeo Boston jumped right up, no problem, and held her hand down to pull Thalia up behind her.  Decker almost fell getting Alesandros up behind him, but then they started down the hill toward the village.  Boston and Katie rode out front, and the other horses followed, which was a good thing since none of them had reins to direct the horses.

They stopped their slow progress when they got to the bay.  They saw men working on the small dock that got torn up in the storm tide.  They saw that the fishing boats had mostly gone to sea.  They also saw the Akoshians had managed to get to their big boat, anchored off shore, and at least Decker cursed.  No doubt, they had all the traveler’s things, and they looked ready to set out.

The Akoshians saw them dismount and stand there, staring, wondering what to do.  The Akoshian Captain’s man shouted to them.  “Lord Andipas laughs in your faces.  He has all of your things of magic and he will become greatness on Akoshia.  He has your bread makers, and he knows how to make the magic.  You are now small.”  He laughed, but apparently had to get to an oar.  They did not get far.

Amphitrite appeared floating above the bow, twenty feet tall, hands still on hips, foot still tapping, and making a tap-tap sound though she was standing on air.  The ship stopped when the oars all disappeared and reappeared on the shore, and Amphitrite spoke in a way that convinced everyone that the anger of the gods would be a terrible, frightening thing.

“You stole from my friends,” Amphitrite said, and all of the travelers things appeared in their proper places.  The horses were saddled with bit and reins.  The packs were all tied on perfectly with all their things neatly packed away.  The side packs they carried reappeared on the side of the people, and suddenly Lockhart’s head did not hurt, though he did not know if that happened because she did something to sober him up, or his fear in the face of an angry god did that all on its own.

“You stole from my people.”  The dock miraculously repaired itself while everything in the ship that was not tied down—sails, ropes, buckets and brooms appeared, stacked in a great stack on the dock.

“You frightened my mothers and children half to death,” Amphitrite yelled, risked a few heart-attacks, and everything else, mostly food and the very clothes from the sailors backs vanished and no doubt appeared at the orphanage.

“Most of all.”  She stopped yelling, and spoke in cold, clear tones that felt much worse than the yelling.  The travelers could hear the sailors wailing for mercy.  “You desecrated my temple and insulted me, and I take that personally.”  The ship that floated at the mercy of the waves, with no means to move otherwise, full of stark naked men, vanished, though Amphitrite finished her thought.  “You should learn respect.”

The travelers caught a glimpse of the island of the sirens, so they could have some men of their own, however briefly.

Amphitrite turned to the travelers and smiled, and it felt like the sun just came out.  She made a translucent, golden ball around herself and floated slowly toward the travelers, shrinking as she came so when her feet touched down on shore, she was back to her normal height.  The bubble burst, and she said, “I always wanted to do the good witch of the north, but no one in this age would have understood it.”  She smiled again.

Boston shuffled her feet and looked down at her shoes until Amphitrite opened her arms and yelled, “Boston.”  The elf flew into the hug.  After which she turned to Lincoln and said yes before he asked if she was Amphitrite.  Then she walked around the group and examined them carefully.  Finally, she spoke again.

“I heard Boston’s prayer.  I checked with Alexis and Lincoln, and apologize for violating your minds and hearts, and privacy; but here is what I have decided.  It will only be temporary, but for now…” she touched Alexis, and Alexis became the elf she had been when she was born.  She looked to Lincoln to be the same age she was when he first met her, and just as beautiful.  Alexis bent toward him, and he touched her pointy ears to see that they were real.

“See?” Alexis grinned.  “You did not even have to pay me a dollar this time to do that.”

Lincoln smiled at the memory, and Alexis grabbed him.  He grabbed her right back, and they kissed in a way that made Katie look at Lockhart and Thalia sigh.  Then Alexis went to stand beside Boston, and took her hand.  Alexis still looked twenty-six or twenty-seven, and that made Boston look like she was; like someone just out of her teen years.

“Hey, you’re breaking up the combo.”  Everyone heard the woman’s voice and watched as she walked up to stand beside Amphitrite.  For the men, watching the woman walk felt worse than the sirens, but this time, the women did not respond with jealous, protective eyes.  All they longed for was a touch of whatever the woman had.

“Just temporary,” Amphitrite said, and turned to Elder Stow.  “Artie?” she asked.  Elder Stow glanced at Katie, but he knew he would have to tell the absolute truth.

“She has developed a small gap in her flesh—miniscule, but she is taking on water in the rain.  It might kill her to cross a river.  I don’t know.”

Amphitrite folded her arms and put a finger to her temple.  “Of course, I can fix it, but I think I would like to try something else first.”  She waved her finger and Artie changed.  It looked like a much more complicated and extensive change.  “This may also be only temporary, but there is much to learn on the road.  I call this the Pinocchio solution.”  She stood back, and the woman beside her eyed the change and added her comment.

“I like it.  I can work with this one.”

“That is not what I made her for,” Amphitrite said.

The woman looked at Decker.  “And you are still on my list.”  The woman squinted, and pointed a sharp finger at Decker.

“Aphrodite,” Decker named the woman.  “Please, no,” he said, and Aphrodite laughed.

“What happened to me?” Artie said.  “I feel so different.  Wow.  Wow…” that was all she could say for a while.  Katie hugged her and Amphitrite spoke.

“As an android, she may have been six-years-old, but as a human, she is sixteen.  Katie.  You need to be like her mother.  Lockhart.  You need to be like her father.  End of discussion.”

Aphrodite whispered to Amphitrite, “Good job.”

Elder Stow smiled.  “They are the mother and father of the group.”

Aphrodite did not understand, but Amphitrite returned the whisper.  “I’ll explain it later.”

“I’m a real girl,” Artie said the inevitable line, and everyone congratulated her.

“Now, what?” Aphrodite turned to Amphitrite and asked what she wanted.

“I need your help,” Amphitrite admitted.

This time, Aphrodite put her hands on her hips and gave Amphitrite a hard stare as she spoke.  “Are you asking as my Aunt Amphitrite, Queen of the sea, or just between friends.”

“Just Trite to Dite,” Amphitrite said, pensively.

Aphrodite continued her hard stare for a few seconds before she laughed out loud, a most glorious sound.  “I love it when she says that.”

“People,” Amphitrite clapped her hands to regain everyone’s attention.  “Get mounted and ready to ride.  Sadly, this is not a good time for a visit, as I said.  In fact, it may not be safe for you to be here at all right now.”  Amphitrite gave Thalia another sisterly kiss and flipped her hand.  Thalia and Alesandros disappeared, and presumably reappeared back in the temple, overlooking the sea.

Aphrodite sighed to see them go.  “That recipe turned out great, and I hardly had to do a thing.” she sighed.

“Here is the scoop, everyone.”  Amphitrite added the last to regain Aphrodite’s attention.  Then she paused to think, and lifted herself up about five feet in the air, before she spoke.  “In simplest terms, our sun and earth formed about five billion years ago.  However, the first stars and planets in the universe formed about ten billion years ago.  After five billion years, human civilization reached the point that you are all familiar with.  Likewise, after five billion years, the people on that first planet reached a comparable level of civilization, only now they have had an additional five billion years to progress, or evolve if you insist.  No, in your wildest imagination, you cannot even imagine what they are capable of.  And no, Lincoln.”  She stayed Lincoln’s hand from his pocket in which he carried the database.  “You will not find information to read in the database.  There may be a few cryptic notes, but that is all.”

“What are they planning.”

“They don’t plan.  They don’t do things the way you and I do things.  I can’t explain. They will be rearranging the nature of creation.”

“Can they do that?” Katie asked.

“What do you need me for?” Aphrodite asked.  “I’m not sure I want to go there.”

“It will be all right,” Amphitrite said, and the travelers vanished to reappear in some totally new location.  Even the horses, who had done that before, hardly batted an eye.”

“Boston?” Lockhart called from the front, where he landed next to Lincoln.  Katie and Artie rode in the middle, while Alexis and Boston brought up the rear.  Decker and Elder Stow still had the sides.

“It looks like the time gate is right in front of us,” Boston shouted back.  Lockhart looked at Katie who nodded and held up her amulet.  It glowed green.

“We best go,” Lockhart said and let his horse walk through the gate.

“Wow.  I never felt excitement like this before,” Artie said as she and Katie came next.  Artie would say that sort of thing often over the next few weeks.

Decker and Elder Stow squeezed in to follow, Decker still worried, thinking about what it meant to be on Aphrodite’s list.

“Tell me more about Mirroway and Elfhome,” Boston asked, sounding almost child-like.  Alexis remembered a particularly juicy experience she had as a young elf.  Her head nodded, but as they were the last through the gate, she grinned a true elfish grin.

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

Monday

The travelers from Avalon stick their nose where it doesn’t belong in episode 5.2, Palace Intrigue

Don’t miss it, and Happy Reading.