Djinn

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 10 of 10

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The djin had worked free of the ropes as Macreedy and Ellean, held hands, got distracted with each other, and forgot all about holding up their magic around the djin. Glen shook his head. Inevitable, he thought, and he left that place one more time to let a woman from the deep, deep past take his place. That curious armor, like the fairy weave Pumpkin wore, adjusted automatically to this new shape and size.

The woman frowned at the elves who felt terribly ashamed. She continued that frown as she looked around. The dwarfs all doffed their hats and fell to their knees beside the elves and Ignatius found a few fearful tears as he joined them. Even Prickles did not hesitate to go to his knees and Sandra wondered what was going on. When Sandra turned her head, she saw her own mother on her knees, and a big Pumpkin beside her with her head lowered to the dirt. Sandra felt it, too, but wondered what it was all about. This woman looked beautiful, more beautiful than any human being had the right to be, being tall and deeply tanned, with hair as black as midnight, and eyes as bright and blue as the brightest mid-day sky, and to be sure, the effect of all that beauty felt inhuman so when the woman smiled at her, Sandra almost fainted for love, but then Sandra had seen so many inhuman things in the last two days, this just seemed like the icing on the cake.

 “Who are you?” Sandra asked, and she revised her thinking. This woman was both the icing and the cake, and all the rest just added together to make the cake plate.

“Danna.” The woman said, in a voice that matched her looks, and Sandra trembled as the woman reached out and took her hand, a trembling, awesome fear that gripped her, like one might feel in the presence of something holy.

“Are you an angel?” Sandra had to ask.

“Heavens, no.” The woman answered with the slightest hint of a laugh in her voice that felt so contagious even in passing, any number of those on their knees had to suppress their own laughter. “But dearest Sandra.” Danna looked sad as she drew the woman up to walk beside her. “You and Glen cannot be. He is responsible for all of these little ones as you have seen, and as long as you have fairy blood in you, he cannot be with you in that way. I am so sorry.”

“No?” Sandra looked sad enough to drop a tear at that thought. “But I was thinking…” She did not finish the sentence.

“No, love, and I feel just as sad for him as for you. He loves you more than you know, but in a small way, he cannot help it because of your blood. Even I cannot say exactly what is real and what is because of your blood, though I will say this, that much of it was real in the way a man really loves a woman.” With that, Sandra did drop her eyes and cry while Danna finished speaking. “If you were the tenth generation, that would not be a problem. Even in the ninth generation, something might be worked out, but sooner than that, it is impossible. The duty of being god of the elves, light and dark, and all the dwarfs that live in-between makes it impossible. I am sorry.”

“God?” Sandra looked up.

“Never over people.” Danna smiled again, and with her eyes on that beatific sight, Sandra felt better—she felt warm and loved in a way she never imagined before, and it came as a revelation. “Meanwhile.” Danna turned stern and looked at the three goblin statues that were just outside a strange and fuzzy looking bit of air. Sandra thought it looked a bit like the haze that rose from hot pavement on a summer day, but as Danna reached out and touched that place, the view of the cave and its goblin inhabitants became crystal clear. Sandra clutched at Danna’s arm, but Danna just kept smiling. The goblins doffed their hats with abandon and Cormac, who stood at the rear because he could look over the other heads, thought briefly about turning and running for his life.

“Goblins go home.” Danna said, and as she touched each of the statues, they came back to life and doffed their hats as well as they backed into the dark and began to back down the tunnel. “And Cormac, no more people.” Danna raised her voice a little. “I mean it.” With that, she turned Sandra back toward the others. “Dwarfs go home.” She said right away. “And thank you for all your help.”

The dwarfs smiled at the idea of being thanked. They raised their hats and said things like, “You’re welcome, don’t mention it, glad to do it, and think nothing of it.”

“I guess I’ll be off, too, then.” Ignatius said, and he started to walk away, until he found his feet stilled, like his soles were glued to the ground.

“Stay, hobgoblin, and you too, Prickles. I will be taking you with me.” Danna turned Sandra toward the other women. “Mona.” Danna called Sandra’s mother by name. “You must take Sandra and Melissa home. After a time, the memory of all this will fade for you. I am sorry, but even with your blood, some things are better not known.”

“No, please.” Sandra started to say, but Pumpkin interrupted.

“But Great Lady. I have only just found them, and I have been away for such a long time.”

Danna looked down on the little one, though the fairy knelt currently in her big form, and in that moment of silence, three faces appeared to plead, and Melissa appeared to be cute. “Very well.” Danna said at last. “You may visit from time to time, but only briefly. No more than three days at once. And no one after Mellissa since she is now the eighth.”

“Yes Lady. Thank you, Lady.”

“Only not today.” Danna added. “Today I need you.” She tapped her shoulder and instantly, Pumpkin got little and flew to Danna’s shoulder where she sat and took hold of Danna’s hair. With that, Danna let go of Sandra’s arm and returned the young woman to her mother and daughter. She caused the stroller to come up and be straightened and fixed in every way, and all with the merest thought.

“And now.” Danna turned toward the ropes, and they vanished while she raised her head and raised her voice. “Djin.” She only said the word, and the djin, wherever it may have gone in the world, or any other world, vanished from that place and with a slight sound of thunder and a flash of light, she appeared in the place where the ropes had been and she looked very, very afraid. This happened, not like calling the Hobgoblin to appear because that came naturally and easily enough for even non-magical Glen to do. This happened as an exercise of power, incalculable power to be sure.

“Goddess.” The djin fell to her knees and began to sob great tears. She had gotten used to tormenting and torturing humans. She survived off the fear and pain they felt, but though she could dish it out, clearly, she could not stand it.

“Why are you here?” Danna asked, and she continued without waiting for an answer. “You should have gone over to the other side with your brothers and sisters of the djin.”

“Many have gone, but some have not. I am not alone. O please, goddess, I do not want to die.” The option of not speaking or giving a less than truthful answer was not available.

“And if the man had lived and I had not intervened?”

 The djin drooled. “After he finished having his way with these mortals, I would have had his soul, and it would have been, delicious.”

“And why should I not send you over to the other side?” Danna asked.

The djin shook her head and looked down. “No, please, please. I cannot help being what I am. But I could serve you, I could.”

“I should trust you?”

The djin looked up with a speck of hope. “Goddess. I keep my bargains. I do. Many do not, even among your little people, but I keep my bargains. I made a bargain with that mortal fool, and I kept it, to the letter, I did.”

Danna frowned again. “Not to the letter,” she said. “But point taken.” She stooped down and picked up a rock the size of her hand. “You will be bound.”

“Goddess, no. Not to a rock. Not one rock among millions, I may be lost forever, please.”

“That is a risk you would do well to remember,” Danna said. “And here are your instructions. You must guard the gate. You may not so much as touch the others who guard the place, nor interfere with them in any way. You may not interfere with those who are welcomed or invited, but those who do not belong, you may frighten to your heart’s content, keeping in mind that humans must never know that this is the work of a djin.” With that, Danna raised her hand and the djin cried out as she became compressed, like a mere image of a person being turned into something like smoke, and she got sucked into the stone, which glowed for a second before the light went out and it became one stone among millions.

Danna sent her armor and weapons to wherever they were kept and clothed herself in fairy weave, which she shaped into something like a Laura Ashley dress, though with white socks and running shoes on her feet. It was all the rage in those days.

“And how do I look?” Danna asked the others as she slipped the rock into the soft, oversized purse that hung at her side.

“Stunning.” “Beautiful.” “Gorgeous.” The others said, but Sandra had another thought.

“Still too lovely to be human,” she said. Danna nodded. She could not help it. She was a true goddess of old, but she could always make a glamour to tone it down a bit if needed.

With a simple wave of her hand, the old man’s body disappeared. She sent the body back to China where there would be some local consternation over exactly what happened, but the man would be buried with his family. Then she turned again to Sandra and her family with this last word.

“Many years ago, Glen got touched by the goddess of memory. He did not know anything about the little ones when you met him as I think you know. He knew neither the little ones, nor his place among them, and he did not know that he had lived before, and so many times before.” Danna paused to be sure her words penetrated.

“Now, Sandra, there is something else I have to do, and it is long overdue, but first I must tell you. If your memory of all this fades apart from your memory of Pumpkin, his will likely vanish altogether. I must ask you. Please do not speak of these events if you see him again, and please do not speak of me at all.”

With that, Danna, Ignatius, Macreedy, Ellean, Prickles, Pumpkin and the stone of the djin all vanished, and two women and a baby in a stroller were all that were left in that place, like any ordinary mother, daughter and granddaughter out in the university woods taking a late afternoon stroll.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 9 of 10

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Glen put the knife away having thought through another option.

“Who are you?” the hag asked. She looked a little sickly, but even as she asked, Glen left that time and place and got replaced by a man who could only be described as a cowboy, with the chaps and hat, and a six-shooter at his side; and he had a rope in his hands, tied in a lasso. Sandra and her mother shrieked in surprise. Macreedy and Ellean went to one knee, and after a thought, Ignatius joined them. Pumpkin began to cry in her cage. Mellissa applauded.

“My name is Miguel Enrique Casidy, Federal Marshal; or as my wife used to call me, Michael Henry the Texican.” He turned to Sandra and tipped his hat. “Ma’am.” He began to twirl his rope.

The djinn’s eyes got big, much bigger than ordinary human eyes, and she elicited shrieks from Sandra and her mother as well as the man beside her, when she began to rise-up into the air. Fortunately, since she was under a tree, she could not move very fast at first, and that gave Marshal Casidy enough time to lasso her by the ankles. He tugged sharply on the rope and brought the djin to the ground very roughly, and then he leapt, and like a true rodeo champion, he had the djin dog tied in the blink of an eye. The djin tried to bite him, but he slapped her face, hard. The djin also tried to go invisible along with several other ideas, but between the magic invested in the rope, and the fact that Macreedy and Ellean were holding hands and focusing their magic against the djin, the djin became powerless. Macreedy or Ellean alone would have been no match for the magic of this djin, any more than Pumpkin had been a match, but by holding hands, in some way they were able to combine their strengths, and increase the power of their natural magic, and it was enough.

Casidy stood and fingered his six-shooter. “And now, sir, I believe you are under arrest.”

The man did not buy it all. He knew what he wanted, and he had learned how to get what he wanted. He waved, and a dozen men came out from behind the trees and bushes. “No one is going anywhere until I have got what I want.”

“Is murder really what you want?” Casidy asked. He eyed the dozen men, still fingered his six-shooter, but considered his options. Nine of those men had guns, but there was one man that stepped to the front dressed as a traditional ninja. He stood complete with sword and no doubt a number of hidden weapons. Despite the guns, Casidy knew the ninja was far more dangerous. He decided a change was in order, and with a turn of his head and another tip of his hat to the ladies, he vanished; to be replaced by an honest to goodness geisha.

She came dressed in a traditional long geisha outfit. Her hair looked neatly put up and tied with sticks and pins, but what gave away the fact that she was geisha was the white face paint, the intensely red lips, and the way she held her unopened fan. She spoke in Japanese, and while some of her verbs and phrases sounded ancient, they were understandable, much like it might have been if someone spoke a kind of King James English in the present day.

“Samurai, give account of yourself. Since when does your honor allow you to enter the employ of one who deals in drugs, murder and betrayal?”

“Who are you?” The ninja asked.

“I am Tara No Hideko, the teacher of your teachers and the master of your masters. I made you in the days of the great wars, when the Shogun first came to power. I made you to protect my sister, and you failed.” The man did not look convinced. He let three stars loose from his sleeve. Hideko merely waved her fan without opening it. Everyone heard the click-click-click, and the stars were gone.

“Very sloppy.” Hideko scolded. “If you were mine to discipline, I would have you beaten for sloppiness.” She opened her fan to show the stars, each caught in a different place in the rice paper and bamboo, caught but not seriously damaging the fan, which was a bit of a surprise to think that the rice paper fan had not been torn to shreds. “You must always go for the soft places, the neck and the belly. Bones can stop the stars as easily as this fan. She flicked her wrist, and the stars shot right back at the man and caught him in both thighs, though not too deep, and the third star came very close, but shot between his legs. “You would do well to remember the lesson,” Hideko said, and she turned back to the old man beside her. He seethed in his anger, though he had taken another step back so there were now a couple of yards between them.

“This is not over,” the man said, as he reached behind the tree and pulled out a great sword, Chinese in design, but ancient, looking perhaps two hundred years old. “All of you women will die in the old way as planned, even if I have to cut you all myself.”

 “Ignatius.” Hideko began, but the hobgoblin stood right beside her.

“You will not cut the women.” Ignatius said, and a number of the men with guns gasped at the full effect of that devilish face and the snake-like tongue it bore.

“Stay out of it.” Hideko finished her thought, and her dress and accoutrements all went away to be replaced by the same armor and weapons Glen wore. When Hideko pulled the sword, however, no one doubted that she knew how to use it. The ninja went face down in the dirt, but Hideko had one more thing to say before she faced the old man. Her accent when she spoke in English sounded heavy, but again the words were understandable. “You men had better run as fast as you can lest you end up haunted all of your days in prison. Do not think your guns will protect you. I also have an army to call on, and you will not like the look of it. Prickles!” Hideko shouted, but then she had to defend herself, even as she shouted, “Ameratsu, be my light!”

Prickles raced out of the cave, followed by every dwarf and three of the goblins. Of course, most of the goblins and Cormac knew better than to run into the sunlight. They had to content themselves with what they could see and hear through the fuzzy looking opening between the worlds. Sure enough, the three goblins who came into the sun turned to stone, but the dwarfs moved rapidly and the men who had unwisely chosen not to run off on sight of the hobgoblin were soon on the ground, tied up like the djin.

The fight between the swordsmen did not last long. Hideko mercifully cut the man deeply across his belly, which disarmed him and brought him to his knees, and she paused only long enough to declare that she was showing mercy before she shoved her blade into the man’s heart. As she withdrew her sword, she bowed first to the dead man. “Forgive me.” Then she bowed to the ninja, still on his face. “Forgive me.” Then she bowed to Sandra, her mother, Macreedy, Ellean, Mellissa and Pumpkin. “Forgive me.” Glen returned to hear Prickles complain.

“But I didn’t get to pound anyone.”

“Don’t worry, big guy,” Ignatius said. “I am sure with the Lord around you will have plenty of chances to do some pounding.” It took a second to penetrate, but eventually the ogre grinned at that idea.

Glen kept the armor in place, just to be safe, and he blanched a little at having to clean his sword before putting it away. Mishka was the doctor. Glen could hardly stand the sight of blood, especially the blood of someone he just killed, even if technically, his hands had not done the actual killing. He went to open Pumpkin’s cage but found that Sandra had already opened it and the women, and Mellissa were all hugging and kissing, and Pumpkin had one more surprise for the women as she abandoned her little fairy form and took on her big, full, human-sized form, so she could have real hugs and give real kisses.

By then, Breggus brought-up the trussed-up gunmen, but all Glen really had to do was threaten to have Prickles eat them if they dared to come back or ever tried to harm any of these women. That seemed effective medicine as two threw-up and three fouled themselves just looking at the beast. Glen did not add the part about having the goblins haunt their dreams, because they probably would in any case. He turned, last of all, for a word with the Samurai, now on his knees even if his knees were covered in blood.

“Hideko says you must go up Mount Fuji on your knees where you can and seek the reconciliation of the son. Suicide is not acceptable. You must make up for your wicked choices with this penance, that you make honorable choices and help people for the rest of your life. Go.” He did not have to say it twice. The man touched his head to the ground like a martial arts student might bow to his master, and he rose, walked off, and never looked back.

At last, Glen could get down to the important business. “Pumpkin!” He hollered, and the fairy immediately returned to her natural, small state and flew to face him, a little afraid of his wrath; but Glen thought Pumpkin was so dear, he could hardly keep a straight face. “I thought you were banished to Avalon for a hundred years.”

“I was, Lord. I stayed there the whole time and stayed good; I promise.” The fairy crossed her little heart and looked down as she hovered near eye level.

“Banished?” Sandra did not like the word, but Glen explained.

“That’s sort of like being banished to Disneyland,” he said. “Now.” He coughed to clear his throat and remove his smile. “Now, do you see what I told you about the consequences of your actions?”

“Yes, Lord, I see. Those were bad men.” She looked briefly at the dead man but quickly had to look away, and she shook her head, but Glen knew the fairy probably did not fully understand what all of that was about.

“You told her?” Sandra had another question.

“Casidy told her, but it was me all the same. You see, I lived a number of times in the past.”

“And the geisha?”

“Me,” Glen said.

“I see,” Sandra said, but Glen suspected that she did not really understand any more than the fairy.

“Now the djin,” Glen said, but the djin had gone.

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

MONDAY

The djinn is gone but she will not escape. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 8 of 10

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Macreedy and Ellean kept the dwarfs moving while Sandra walked beside Glen when she could. She pushed the stroller most of the way and carried it when she needed to, but Glen never offered to help or even spoke, so Sandra kept quiet as well. Ignatius came right behind them and the ogre brought up the rear. With the silence, Sandra heard the hobgoblin mumble more than once about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

A good hour later, Sandra had too many questions to contain herself. “What is a djin?” She asked, only to see both Glen and the hobgoblin shake their heads.

“A djin is a powerful and wicked creature, and not one of our Lord’s. Our Lord cares for us sprites of the earth, and the fire, the air and the water sprites, too, but these djin are of a different order.” Macreedy spoke over his shoulder.

“All the sprites?” Sandra wondered. “That sounds like an awful lot. How can you keep track of them all?” She asked Glen, but he did not answer.

“Plenty, to be sure.” Ignatius spoke up. “But there are far more that are not his than his, and these djin range from little spirits, like us, to lesser spirits and all the way up to greater spirits, and if this one is one of the big, bad greater spirits, you will see some sparks fly, let me tell you.

“But what is a djin?” Sandra asked again, and this time Glen said a word.

“Genie.” But removing his concentration from what he thought about caused him to stumble and it took both Macreedy and the hobgoblin to catch him, to keep him from falling altogether.

“There is the opening.” Breggus came back and spoke, though Glen hardly heard him. “I said Gumblittle could find the place, but it looks kind of fuzzy.” Glen squinted, expecting fuzzy, but it looked clear as day out there, as far as he was concerned, and indeed it looked like late in the day, and the outside scene appeared to be a simple forest scene.

“Glen?” Sandra gently touched him, and seemed a little worried, judging the appearance on Glen’s face.

“I’m just remembering too much, too fast,” he explained, and tried hard to pull himself together as he spoke. “Dwarfs, I thank you. Macreedy and Ellean, you need to come to protect Sandra. Prickles, stay here! Ignatius Patterwig, you need to stick with me.”

“Me?” The hobgoblin looked reluctant to move into the light, but as Glen stumbled forward, Ignatius followed along. “What do you want from me?” he whined.

“You need to keep me safe while I go unconscious,” Glen responded, and he fell face down in the leaves and pine needles.

“Me?” Ignatius said again, but he went invisible and hovered over Glen, like a mother bird might hover over her nest.

“And here she is.” A woman’s voice rang out—a chilling voice that Sandra heard before she saw. “I am a bit surprised she made it, but I see she brought a couple of friends with her.” The woman appeared to be an old woman that might best be described as a hag, if that hag was struck in the face with an extra bucket of ugly. She waved her hand and Macreedy and Ellean lost their glamour of invisibility, but they did not lose the arrows that were strung in their bows and ready. The man beside the djin took a step back on seeing real, live elves in his face.

“Wait a minute.” Sandra looked around. “This is the university woods, not very far from where Mother and Mellissa disappeared.”

“Very good.” The hag said. “And it is only a couple of hours since you left.”

“But we were gone for two days.” Sandra protested.

“And a whole night.” The djin nodded and cackled which solidified Sandra’s impression of the djinn’s hag-like appearance. “Sadly, the tree people came out in force so nothing untoward could happen in the night.” She looked disappointed that nothing came out of the dark to tear Sandra to shreds.

“Old woman. You swore you would gather the whole family. How dare you try and send this one to Hell before I had the opportunity to do it myself.” The man beside the djin, an Asian, Chinese looking man with perhaps a taint of European blood raised his hand as if to slap the hag.

“But I did exactly as you asked.” The hag stayed his hand with the words. “They are all here as promised. All of the living in the family line are here. The fee was the first, and this is the last of them all but for her baby; but if she died on the way.” The hag shrugged. “I did not promise she might not die on the way.” She cackled again. She enjoyed the idea of Sandra’s death too much. Sandra would have stepped back in horror at that attitude, but in truth, she hardly heard the exchange as she spied her mother holding the baby, and she ran to them.

“Melissa, Mother! You’re all right, O thank God.” She caught Melissa up in her arms, squeezed, hugged, kissed the two-year-old with her lips and her tears, while Sandra’s mother hugged her daughter, and cried on her daughter’s shoulder. Macreedy stayed where he was. He kept his arrow aimed at the djin and the man, and never wavered, but Ellean ran with Sandra, and she was the one who found one more person.

“Miss Fairy, are you well?” Ellean asked, and Sandra stopped crying and hugging long enough to gasp. A real live fairy, not much more than seven inches tall, stood captive in a small cage that hung on a tree branch. The fairy shook her head, sadly, and then reached out for Sandra, of all things.

“Pumpkin.” Melissa said, pointed to the fairy, and the two-year-old smiled. She was too young to realize the danger she was in or the danger she had just gone through.

“Sandra.” Sandra’s mother made her daughter pause so the older woman could tell her daughter something first. “Sandra.” She repeated. “This is your great-great grandmother, Mrs. Pumpkin.”

Sandra went up to the cage with the wonder written clearly on her face while Ellean apologized for some mistake. “Pardon, Missus fairy,” the elf maid said. “You look very young and I am not very old.”

Pumpkin merely glanced at the elf as if to say no offense taken, but then Sandra put her finger up to the cage as she might have held her finger out for a parakeet. Pumpkin reached out between the bars, touched that finger and attempted to smile. It looked difficult. It looked like the poor fairy had been tortured, and all at once, Sandra got terribly angry.

Sandra spun around, handed Mellissa back to her mother and tromped to within a yard of the man and the old woman.

“How dare you!” She yelled. “Who do you think you are? You have no right holding us. Kidnapping is a crime. You let my family go, and I mean it. Let us go, now!”

The man laughed and the djin grinned and with a wave of her hand, the bows and arrows that Macreedy and Ellean held were ripped from their hands and came to the old woman’s feet. “You have no power here.” The hag said through her cackle.

Sandra took a step back and her expression turned from one of anger to one of incomprehension. “But why?’ she asked.

“Family honor.” The man stepped up. “To finally cleanse the stain between your family and mine.” Sandra looked at the man with questions dancing in her head, but she kept quiet as the man spoke.

“One hundred and thirty years ago, my poor family came to California in search of prosperity. As a young girl, my many-times mother married a man of European decent over the objections of the family. But this was a new world, full of hope, and they had great hopes, and had a son, my sire. Then men found gold along the rivers and the madness began. One man, a man named Marshal Casidy tried to maintain order in the chaos, but he brought with him the creatures of whispers and legend. One of these was the winged goblin now held prisoner to account for her crimes. She stole the heart of that European man and together, they ran off and had a daughter. The stain of that betrayal has never left my family name.

“Our gold was stolen, and our hope was gone. My great father brought his family back across the sea to the place of his birth in disgrace, and the strange looking son who had no father could find comfort only in the arms of prostitutes. My great-grandfather should have been a rich man, living in a California mansion, but he was born in a brothel. My grandfather was born in a ditch and died of alcohol poisoning before he was fifty. My father learned to steal and I was nourished on stolen bread.

“When the Japanese invaded my country, I became a traitor to my own people, and I became rich betraying my neighbors for a price. I made peace with the invaders, and with the money I obtained, I began to deal in drugs and built my own little army of thieves and murderers; but I always knew the shame of what I had done. The soul of my family has never known peace since that first betrayal that destroyed our hope, and I vowed revenge.” The man was angry, spitting. He could not finish his speech, so another had to prompt him.

“And what did you promise to this hag for capturing the fairy and gathering the survivors of her family?” Glen stepped into the light, and Ignatius, the hobgoblin came with him.

The man gasped on seeing the goblin and took a step back as he had when he first saw the elves, but he managed an answer.

“I promised that I would be hers for as long as we both shall live,” he said.

“And you figure after you avenge your betrayal, she will not live long.” Glen understood. “But you do not know what you have promised, for this is no ordinary old woman.”

“Ah,” the djin interrupted. Her voice carried a curious note. “I see how the mother made it through the maze of traps. She brought a warrior with her.” The hag took a half step forward, which prompted Glen to pull the long knife from behind his back. He did not dare pull the sword again. “But it is strange. I do not understand.” The hag looked as confused as she sounded curious, and it clearly seemed something of an unusual experience for her. “I cannot read this one’s mind. It is like he is invisible to me, and that must be how I did not notice him before. Still, no matter.” The hag snatched her hand and Glen’s knife vacated his hand as the bow and arrows had vacated the hands of Macreedy and Ellean, only this time, Glen smiled and stretched out his hand toward the knife. The knife did an about face in mid-air and sprang back into Glen’s grasp as if it never left.

Avalon 1.9 The Elders part 4 of 4

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“I was wondering why you kept staring at the thing,” Lockhart said.

“What are you reading?” Boston and Alexis asked together.

“David Copperfield,” Lincoln answered.

“Not some science fiction like Lord of the Rings or something?” Captain Decker wondered.

Lincoln shook his head. “I prefer realistic fiction.”

“Yeah,” Lockhart said. “But I have found that realism is not necessarily realistic.”

“I can see that,” Katie said.

“Storm coming up fast.” Roland still looked behind, to keep an eye on their follower. The wind shifted to blow from the stern and while a good blow might have tempted them to try running with the wind, these clouds looked very dark.

“Lieutenant. Help me get the sail down.” Captain Decker ordered.

“Lincoln, you and I need to hold the rudder,” Lockhart said.

“Father!” Alexis stepped forward to bring down their makeshift jib, but Mingus stared at the clouds. The lead cloud had a face, and one that did not look happy.

“Djin!”

“Probably unhappy that we keep killing his lesser cousins,” Roland suggested.

“The ghouls,” Mingus explained to the Captain and Lieutenant who paused in uncertainty.

Mingus shook his head and went to help Alexis. Everything got taken down and tied by the time the storm hit, including the crew, and good thing. The first strike snapped the rudder and nearly capsized the boat. Katie and Lincoln would have been washed overboard if they were not secured.

The storm pounded them, but Mingus, Alexis, and Roland combined enough magic to keep them from being turned over or broken apart. The waves rose twenty and thirty feet above them, but they moved like the proverbial cork on the water, rising up one mountain and free falling down the other side. The others bailed. They had to.

The ship spun around, first one way and then the other until they had no sense of direction at all. The only thing they could count on was the amulet, but Boston felt afraid to get it out for fear it might be washed overboard. She clutched it with her hand over her shirt and kept it tight between her breasts. She jumped with every new stroke of lightning but never let go.

Roland heard the scream first and looked up into the black sky. Mingus had to squeeze his son’s hand to bring his concentration back to task. The face of the Djin, still in cloud form, came down like a dive-bomber and buzzed the boat just above their heads.

“Focus,” Mingus roared against the storm and the thunder.

Alexis knew better than to look. Lincoln would have to scream for her, and he did. Boston also closed her eyes. Katie Harper and Captain Decker tried to concentrate on bailing. Lockhart growled.

The scream came a second time, this time from the other side. But when it reached the ship, Lockhart held up an oar in its face. The cloud face broke apart on the oar, but it simply reformed on the other side, and as it rose again into the storm, they heard the laughter—a real cackle of amusement. It toyed with them. They knew it, and the Djin knew it, too.

The scream came a third time, but this time before it reached the ship it pulled up and let out a very different sound. It disappeared in the clouds and an old man appeared in the ship, or so it seemed.

The man glowed, not with the awesome light of the gods, but like a lantern or perhaps a lighthouse in the storm. He showed a warm and welcoming glow, the kind ships always looked for in the dark of the night. The ship itself seemed to broaden, so the man could sit comfortably in their midst. No one knew quite what to say, as the rain softened, and the water calmed around them. Outside of their little bubble, the storm still raged in its full ferocity, but within the bubble, all became calm and quiet.

“I must say,” the old man spoke first. “When Odelion asked me to keep an eye on your progress, I hardly expected it to be a request worthy of note. Now I see what he meant.”

“I don’t think he knows about the Djin,” Katie said, honestly.

“A bit more powerful than its cousins,” Lincoln added, as he set down his hat, the only thing he could find to bail with.

“Like a Bokarus on steroids,” Lockhart said, and the man smiled and spoke again.

“When the wind comes up from the coast of, what does he call it? Oh yes, Africa, it often brings storms. Many a good fisherman has been blown to other shores by such storms and many, sadly, have been lost.

“Lost?” Boston wondered. “Couldn’t you help them?”

The man shook his head. “No, dear Boston. I can help you because you don’t belong here in the first place, but for those who are, what is the word, native?” He shook his head again.

“It is the two commandments even the gods must follow,” Alexis spoke up. “One is that men die, and two is that even the gods must not change rule number one.”

“A fair statement, elf daughter.” The man nodded his head. “Now Boston, dear, where is this time gate of yours?”

Boston paused. The man called her dear twice, and she never felt so special in her life. She just wanted to smile forever, but she remembered. “Oh.” She pulled out the amulet and pointed. “Only five miles. That storm certainly ate up the distance.”

“Very good,” the man said, and the ship, the whole bubble, which included the water immediately beneath the ship, rose-up into the storm and raced to the spot. “Sadly, perhaps, I cannot go with you to explore this other world. I will get there all in good time.”

“What do you mean you cannot?” Roland sounded confused.

“A fair restriction,” the man said. “Sometimes we must restrict ourselves and each other. When these gates were established, it was decided to bar all who were native to the time, even the gods. Perhaps especially the gods. I see though with some, such as yourselves, exceptions have been made. That is the decision of the source.”

“The—” Katie started to say something, but the man raised his hand and cut off her thoughts.

“I have said enough on that score and really only have one last thing to say. Captain Decker,” the man turned to the marine. “It will do you no good to continue to berate yourself and think of failure. All turned out well in the end, didn’t it?”

The captain got surprised by the words, but he nodded.

“There, so it would be best to put it out of your mind. Oh, but I see something else is bothering you. About young Odelion?”

Captain Decker looked straight at the man in the boat as he answered. “The poor man has four wives.” He shook his head and disguised nothing about the way he felt. He imagined that to be torture. The man in the boat smiled at first, but as he thought about it, he began to laugh. The laughter was contagious. Very soon everyone laughed, even those among them who did not find the captain’s attitude particularly funny. They could not help it.

“Well, you may find one or two surprises for you up ahead, but for now, you are here.” The man spoke again after a while. “Now all of you who don’t belong here need to go through the gate.” He vanished before Lockhart could speak.

“You don’t mean the Gott-Druk, too.”

“Or the werewolf.” Lincoln remembered.

“I just hope the Djin is of this time-period,” Roland said, as he picked up an oar. They were going to have to row through the gate that Boston said should be right in front of them.

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

MONDAY

The Travelers try to get to the Were people on the Transylvanian plateau, but one gets sidetracked in episode 10, Kidnapped. See you Monday. Happy Reading,

*

Medieval 6: K and Y 16 Good Men, part 2 of 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Yasmina stepped aside and Junior came from all that way in the past to stand in her shoes, as the Kairos sometimes says. He kindly kept up a glamour, so he looked, sounded, and even acted like Yasmina, though it was actually Junior in her place.

“Be free,” he said simply to the governor, and the governor became instantly free of the enchantment. The governor shook his head once and looked up and shouted. “Badroul!” She and al-Din were presently kissing. Then, everyone came at once. Suffar and a handful of guards came from the palace, because, through his sorcery, he was able to perceive that something was happening in the garden. The Jinn came to see what disturbed his spell over the governor, and he took one look, and despite the glamour, he shrieked and tried to run away.

“Stay,” Junior said, and the Jinn froze in mid-air, about two feet off the ground.

“I have sent the guards to the gates and to the docks,” Suffar bragged. “There will be no escape for you.”

Al-Rahim pulled his sword. Ziri joined him, though he faced three on one until Harun and al-Asad came up from the other side. Ziri got stabbed, but then it was four on six, and Aisha made it five on six and would fight like Yrsa the She Bear. Al-Din, if he could tear himself away from his girl, would even the odds.

Two men came at al-Rahim at once, but the old soldier easily drove them back and cut one in the arm. Ziri, Harun, and al-Asad each took a man, though Ziri was already finished.

Al-Suffar had no patience to let things play out. He fired something like sorcerer’s poison at al-Rahim and struck the old retainer square in the chest. Al-Rahim’s heart skipped a beat. He clutched his chest and stumbled. Suffar grinned, but Aisha arrived, and the two guardsmen had no better luck against her than they did against the old man. Aisha cut the other one with her knife that flashed out at super speed.

Al-Din pulled his sword and moved to defend his love, and Junior moved with him, looking like Yasmina now dressed in her armor. Badroul would have followed, but Junior made sure she felt a sudden need to see to her father who stayed on the bench and looked stunned. He stared at the Jinn frozen in mid-air. He kept trying to figure out how the trick was done. He did not see any rope or wires or anything.

“Enough,” Junior said in Yasmina’s voice. “You have misused the gift of magic given to you. Besides, the Prophet has condemned sorcery, so let it be taken from you.” He waved his hand, and suddenly Suffar was the one who clutched his chest.

Al-Rahim got up and faced his man. Aisha faced the other guard and made quick work of the man. Al-Din arrived and faced Suffar who pulled his sword and tried to defend himself. Their swords crossed twice, and al-Din slipped and stabbed Suffar in the chest. Al-Din was the lucky one. It could have gone either way.

Ziri did not survive, and Harun would now limp like his friend, al-Asad, but the guards were all put down. Junior nodded and returned to the Jinn. He lifted his hand and the lamp appeared.

“Please. Give me another chance,” the Jinn begged.

Junior just shook Yasmina’s head and crushed the lamp. The Jinn faded, yelling “No. Please,” until he vanished altogether. A great flash of light appeared, and Yasmina rubbed her eyes and asked, “What happened?”

“You killed the wicked Jinn and set my father free,” Badroul said.

“You killed him?” Aisha asked as she walked up, helping al-Rahim, who pushed away her help.

“He is free from the lamp, but he is now on the other side in the fiery land of the Jinn where he will live out the last of his years, unable to return to this earth. Junior checked. He does not have many years left, and the sad thing is he knows he could have lived them here, in the land of the living, but he simply could not resist being wicked.” Yasmina rubbed her eyes some more and found some tears, but they were from the flash of light, not sympathy for the Jinn.

“We must get to the docks,” al-Rahim said suddenly, taking everyone’s attention. Suffar and the Jinn sent the army to the docks and al-Din’s men and others are prepared to defend their ships. Men will die on both sides.”

“Governor?” Yasmina asked to stir him from his staring at where the Jinn used to be.

The governor looked at her in her armor and looked at Badroul. He looked at al-Din and threw his hands up in surrender. He said to Yasmina, “You look like a Roman, all immodest with your face and hair uncovered.” He shook his head, and it looked like a what is this world coming to kind of shake. “We must hurry,” he finished.

When they arrived at the docks, they found there had been one attack, but the guards were badly outnumbered at first, so they withdrew after light casualties on both sides. Clearly, the guards did not expect resistance. They probably imagined marching in and simply taking control of who came and went. They had to get reinforcements, and brought up men from the caravan camps, and some from the gates.

Fortunately, the governor was able to put an end to further bloodshed. It helped that the guards no longer felt compelled to interfere with lawful commerce in the port. The men of al-Din were glad to have him home. The men from Amalfi were glad they did not have to fight. Only a couple of Vikings were unhappy and said things like, “You call that a fight?”

“They sound like dwarfs,” Yasmina whispered to Aisha just before Francesco ran up.

“I was so afraid for you.” he said as he took hold of her.

“I was afraid for you,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

“No, I knew what I was doing. You might have been walking into a trap and I would have lost you just when I found you.”

“No. I was afraid you would do something heroic and stupid and get yourself killed and make me a double widow before we even got married.”

“No… and anyway, besides Lady Kristina and your spirit maid, who I see clearly now. Do you have any more surprises?”

“Lots,” she said with a big grin.

He nodded. “Good thing I like surprises,” he said, and kissed her briefly before they caught up with what was happening.

Al-Rahim sat on a chest; the same chest Yasmina sat on earlier. He said he could not stand. His legs were numb.

“Lady?” Aisha asked. It was a serious question. Aisha had gotten in the habit of calling her by her name or calling her princess. Lady was a reference to the Kairos and Yasmina understood what she was asking with her having to ask. She shook her head. The truth was people died and even the gods were not allowed to change that truth. She began to cry just thinking about it, but al-Rahim reached out and grabbed Francesco by the shirt. He pulled the man close.

“You better take care of my princess and always love her and treat her like the precious flower she is, or I swear I will come back from the grave and haunt you.”

Francesco was not disturbed by the rough handling. “I will. I do. And it is my desire and plan to respect her and treat her well for as long as we shall live.”

“Good,” al-Rahim said. “Just so we understand each other.” With that, he closed his eyes and slipped off the chest. Yasmina and Aisha cried. Badroul and al-Din found some tears. Omar, Ali, and Sulayman, who came to join them, stayed silent with Francesco. Only the governor said something.

“I think he was a very good man.”

Medieval 6: K and Y 13 To the New World, part 3 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Men came to the edge to look, and one big, ugly young man near her age stepped to the edge and let out a lustful smile, like he could see what lay hidden inside her abaya and niqab where only her eyes showed. “Nidaros, in Norway, a land so far to the north, even the bears turn white in the snow, if you know what snow is.” He chuckled. “I am William Brantsson, and you are?”

“I am Princess Yasmina of Mecca and Medina,” she said over al-Rahim’s and Aisha’s protests. “William is not a Norwegian name. How did you come by it?”

“My mother. Inga the Volva of Trondelag.’

“Is Inga still alive?” Yasmina asked.

“Yes,” the man said, and his expression turned to pure curiosity.

“And is Buttercup still her friend? And how are Yrsa and Alm?”

“How can… How do you…”

“William,” a gruff voice interrupted the conversation. Three older men, near fifty came to the railing, and the one in the middle spoke. “I am Captain Knud Frodeson. What can we do for you?”

“You and all your men can help,” Yasmina said. She smiled, though they could not see it. She smiled harder when she recognized the two old men that stood beside the captain, and then the pressure on her became too great to resist. Yasmina went away, and Kirstie took her place and came dressed in her well-known armor, her shield and battleaxe at her back. Kirstie was a good four inches taller than Yasmina and her eyes were bright blue as against Yasmina light brown eyes. The rest had not been noticeable under all of Yasmina’s clothing, but Kirstie knew she still had Yasmina’s smile in place.

“Knud,” she said. “Are you still raising puppies? Oswald and Edwin, is your mother still alive? How is your brother, Sibelius?”

“Lady Kristina of Strindlos.” Knud shouted. “You don’t look a day older than when I saw you.”

“It is Oswald the Elder now,” the old man said of himself. “And Edwin the Dog.” he pointed and the old man on the end appeared to be crying. “Mother passed away some years ago.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Kirstie said.

Knud got hold of his voice. “But how can you be here? what happened to that young girl?”

Kirstie did not answer them. She said, simply. “Bring your men and weapons. We may have to defend the docks and your ship.” She turned and reached out to kiss al-Rahim’s cheek. Unlike Yasmina, she did not have to get on her toes to do it. “Thank you for taking good care of me,” she added and took Aisha’s hand. “And your cousin says thank you, and she never thought of making herself appear older, obvious as that is.”

“Maybe you didn’t need older,” Aisha said. “Yasmina needs as much older as she can get.”

Kirstie listened to Yasmina protesting in her head before she agreed with the elf.

The next stop for Kirstie, even as the Vikings began to come to the dock, was the longboat from the Amalfi ship. This time al-Din shouted first.

“Francesco!”

“Al-Din,” Francesco responded, and he hurried to get to the dock. “I’ve been looking for you for more than a year. I was beginning to think what the governor said was true, that you met your end among the Fatimids. You know, I went there a few years ago searching for Yasmina. I opened trade with the Fatimids for all the Amalfitani. I have been up the coast, all the way to Syria and beyond, to Roman territory, but I have heard nothing of her.”

Kirstie paused in her conversation with William Brantsson to respond. “I was held captive in the palace in Mahdiya. I was forced to marry al-Hakim, the Mahdi’s grandson. Sadly, or maybe fortunately, he had no interest in marriage, at least to a girl. I had to kill him because he was serving the Masters. I suppose that makes me a widow.”

“Who is this person?” Francesco asked al-Din.

Al-Din smiled hugely because he thought he understood. “Yasmina, except she is not Yasmina at the moment. She is…”

“Lady Kristina of Strindlos,” Aisha said with an equally big smile.

“Stop it,” Francesco said. “I have searched for Yasmina for these past four years, and though I have not found her, I will not be giving up.”

“Why is that?” Kirstie asked, even if she knew it was cheating.

“Because I want to tell her that I love her, though we hardly spent a week together. She sets my soul on fire. I kissed her once and I will not rest until I can kiss her again and every day for the rest of our lives. I may get old and die looking for her, but so be it.” He made a determined face. Kirstie thought he looked a bit silly, but Yasmina protested and said he looked wonderful. Meanwhile, the pressure in the other direction became too great and Kirstie traded again with Yasmina. She stayed in her armor, though the battleaxe and shield got replaced by a smaller shield such as a horseman might hold, and a sword, while Yasmina’s scimitar appeared at her side. She also came with her cloak, hood up, but her veil down so Francesco could see her face, and she spoke, not what Kirstie would say, but from her own heart.

“Did you mean it?”

Francesco gawked at the transition, but only for a moment before he stepped forward and took her in his arms. They kissed for the next few minutes and that settled matters nicely for the both of them.

Al-Rahim spoke to the Amalfi skipper. “Bring your fighting men to the dock. We may have to defend your ships and crew, depending on how things turn.”

At that moment, a young Arab came up with a young woman in tow. The woman shuffled along with her feet and never looked up. A middle-aged man came from the other direction, and he had his sword drawn. Al-Rahim turned to the swordsman first because he knew the man.

“Zayd the Christian.”

“Mubarak is dead,” Zayd said. “Some went to the house and Abu ibn Suffar is reported to be dead. I cannot confirm that, but many will be along shortly.”

Aisha hardly glanced at the Young Arab man, because she knew the girl from their time in the governor’s palace. She spoke because Yasmina was busy. “Sharin. Speak to me.”

Sharin finally looked up when she heard her name, and she breathed a great sigh of relief. “Oh, lady Aisha. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Here is the need,” Aisha spoke sharply like a commander on the battlefield, or in the kitchen as the case may be. “We need to get a few men, Princess Yasmina, and myself in to see the governor when he is not near Suffar or the Jinn. Perhaps in Princess Badroul’s chambers, if that can be arranged.”

“Oh, Lady. Men in the chamber of the Princess will be killed,” Sharin said.

“Only her Fiancé. There is precedent, as long as Captain al-Rahim and Ziri, Yasmina’s harem guard are there to chaperone, and maybe if you know a friendly guard in Badroul’s harem, that might help.”

“Sharin hardly had to think. “Harun and al-Asad are still here. They survived the pirates, though Harun limps. They have been assigned to the guards. They may help.”

Yasmina took a breath. “Harun and al-Asad are alive,” she said, and went right back at it with Francesco.

“It will take some time to arrange,” Sharin stated while her face showed that she was thinking about exactly how to arrange things. “Come to the princess garden gate in two hours.”

Francesco took a breath. “We can climb over where the tree is again,” he said, and returned to his preoccupation.

“We may need the two hours to calm these two down,” Aisha said and looked at the men who were all standing around, grinning at the couple.

“Come along Nasr,” Sharin said. She grabbed the young Arab’s hand to drag him behind her, and he did not seem to mind at all.

Yasmina pulled her head back for a minute to see. She said an aside to William Brantsson. “Like your mother once said, it must be in the air.” she paused long enough to think pressing up against poor Francesco with her chain mail could not be very comfortable. She thought of Kirstie’s blue dress, having just been Kirstie, and called to it. The dress instantly replaced her armor and weapons. It left her head and hair completely uncovered and showed a bit of her arms above the wrist and her shoulders. It even showed a bit down the front, which made Yasmina feel completely naked, but Francesco liked it. He almost fell over to look at her, but she held on to him so they could squeeze together and go for round two.

Medieval 6: K and Y 13 To the New World, part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Yasmina

Two women in full length, straight cut abayas made of black died Egyptian linen, and wearing full length niqabs so only their eyes were revealed came and knocked on the door to inquire about al-Din, the owner of the house. An old man, a retainer of some sort stood beside them, and a young man in traveling clothes complete with a veil of his own did most of the talking.

“We have come from Burqah in the west at the invitation of Ala al-Din to partake of his gracious hospitality as he offered in his many letters. My lord is in waiting to see the governor, and he sent his daughter and her maid ahead so that they might be refreshed. Is this not the house of al-Din?” Ali asked.

Al-Rahim determined that both Ali and Sulayman had both the brains and the courage that their leader Omar lacked. He ordered Omar to be in charge and told Sulayman privately to watch the horses and watch al-Din, and to keep al-Din’s face covered against being recognized and keep him out of trouble.

Ziri, the last Berber with them put on the appearance of a typical Bedouin guide. He was the one who went ahead through their long journey and spoke with the Berbers and Bedouin they encountered along the way to secure food for the people and fodder for the horses. They stopped at many farms and paid generously for what they received. Al-Rahim made sure he packed plenty of silver in the saddle bags for the journey. But often Ziri, or when he was still with them, Gwafa would do the talking. Now, in Alexandria, Ali got to do the talking. Ziri’s Arabic had a definite western accent. Al-Rahim’s was near enough perfect, but he and Yasmina had a slight accent and their being from the Hejaz might be noticed in certain word choices and phrases.

“Alas,” the man actually said the word as several other servant men and women came up behind him to listen. “Our young master al-Din went on a mission to the west, to the Fatimid fanatics. He has been declared dead by the governor and the property has been given to the governor’s vizir, al-Suffar. He is now the owner of this house, and his son now rules in al-Din’s place.”

“You do not sound happy about that,” Aisha spoke out of turn.

The man paused to look around at who was listening in. “No, no. We are all happy here,” he said without any conviction. “But Abu ibn Suffar does not like visitors. Please go away.” He sounded like he wanted to say, “Please run and save yourselves.”

“What happened to Princess Badroul, his true love?” Yasmina spoke before the man could close the door.

The man looked around again before he answered in a whisper. “Al-Suffar wishes her to marry his son, but she has resisted. She claims she will not marry until she hears for certain whether al-Din is dead or alive. The pressure to marry is great. I fear the governor may force his daughter. But that would be terrible for the girl. Abu is… sometimes…” He decided not to finish his sentence. “Good day,” he said and shut the door.

“So, we go to the palace and confront the governor,” al-Rahim suggested, but looked at Yasmina for confirmation.

“We will,” she agreed. “But first we need some inside information. Suffar is likely at that palace, and we want to get the governor alone and out of the influence of Suffar or the traitorous Jinn. She began to walk toward the docks on a whim, wondering if a friendly merchant might supply them with some information. She honestly thought of Francesco, but she hardly expected to find him.

Yasmina did not expect to get entirely accurate information, but she did find one of al-Din’s merchant captains, and he willingly shared what he knew. “The governor is hardly more than Suffar’s puppet. I heard rumors that a mighty Jinn is the power behind Suffar’s sudden rise to power, and I believe it has to be something like that. The man, Suffar, is as cruel and selfish as any I have ever seen. Now that young al-Din is gone, it is insufferable to work for the man, and his son is even worse. You were lucky to catch me in port. I have been considering sailing away and not coming back, but taking myself, my crew, and my ship to work for someone else.”

Yasmina remembered that Suffar was a sorcerer of a sort. But she concluded that the Jinn was the key to everything. “Well,” she said. “I can at least assure you of one thing.” she smiled for the captain as she called. “Aladdin.”

“Princess?” Al-Rahim questioned Yasmina’s decision s al-Din stumbled forward. The captain looked, fell to one knee, and praised Allah and the prophet for bringing the master home. Yasmina explained to al-Rahim.

“We need allies, back-up. Maybe an army of sailors and merchants who would rather work for al-Din. Captain Hazem al-Zahir is the first, and I bet he knows who to contact among al-Din’s people.”

The man stood at al-Din’s insistence, and al-Din hugged the man which both surprised the captain and put a look of determination on the man’s face. “I know exactly who to gather. Al-Suffar has elevated the three worst men to oversee the business. One runs the dock. One runs the house. And one, Mubarak, runs the stables and warehouse where the caravans gather.” He turned to call his nearby crew to come to him so he could send them to fetch the good men ready to rebel.

“The same Mubarak?” Yasmina asked Aisha. The elf had to pause and look at the sky before she produced an answer.

“I believe so.”

Yasmina smiled. “It’s a small world,” she said, and then looked at Aisha with a touch of fear in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Aisha said. “I won’t start singing.”

“Princess,” al-Rahim got her attention and pointed. “It appears the Amalfi are coming into the port.”

“Maybe they will help,” al-Din said. He had excellent trade relations with the Amalfitani through his friend Francesco d’Amalfi.

“Francesco?” Yasmina could not keep the desire from her voice.

“It may be,” Aisha said. There weren’t any imps, elves, dwarfs, or fee handy in the water to check for her. She grew up in the Hejaz, as did Yasmina. Aisha had some minimal contact with the sprites in the red sea, but she did not know any in the Mediterranean. She was a spirit of the earth and not automatically connected to the spirits in the water, air, or fire, so all she could do was shrug.

“Wait here,” Captain Hazem got her attention. He looked to the sky to judge the time. “Three hours and we will be back with plenty of men.”

Yasmina interrupted the man. “What I need is someone who has contacts inside the palace. We need to get al-Din alone with the governor where Suffar and the Jinn cannot interfere. It would be best to settle matters peacefully if we can.”

Hazem nodded as he stroked his beard. “I’ll see who I can find. Meanwhile, Ibrahim here will stay with you until we get back.” The man smiled and bowed to al-Din. Captain Hazem bellowed his orders and the crew split off in several direction to disappear in the crowd around the docks.

Yasmina’s eyes shot back to the Amalfi ship dropping anchor in the bay. She hoped it might be Francesco but she had no reason to suppose it was, or that the man ever even thought of her. He was Italian, hot-blooded, and probably had a girl in every port. She sighed and then caught sight of a ship pulled right up to the dock, and it was the last ship she ever expected to see. She stood from the chest she had been sitting on and walked straight to the ship. Of course, Aisha and all the men had to follow her.

“Princess?” Al-Rahim asked where she was going, but Yasmina did not answer. It was an actual Viking Longship, and she just had to know.

“Norsemen. Where are you from?” She asked in Kirstie’s Norwegian language.

Avalon 7.10 Guarding the Future, part 4 of 6

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Oh, mighty Genii.”  The soldier with a brain looked up and spoke plenty loud.  “Great Marid of the Djin.  These people brought an earthquake and terrible sandstorm where many innocent people became injured and died.  We have come to take them to Taif for judgment.  Their lives are forfeit.”  He bowed and waited for the floating face of sand to make a decision.

The floating face appeared to ponder the situation before it spoke.  “Normally, I would be happy to see that.  I enjoy watching silly human plays.  But my mistress has asked that these people come to her, unharmed.  Besides, the way my mistress explained things, I don’t believe your thirty men will be near enough to take these people prisoner.  I can still see the hedge of the gods around them, so I dare not do anything myself.”

“Bahati sent you?” Katie put two and two together.

“Indeed,” the genii said.

“Do you have a name?” Lockhart asked.

The face of sand smiled.  “Not one you could pronounce, even with the gift of the little ones that allows you to understand and be understood, no matter what language is spoken.  You may call me Djin.  That is what my mistress calls me.”

“Excuse me,” The soldier interrupted.

“These people are not for you,” Djin said.  “Your troubles were caused by a great explosion in the middle quarter.  Ubar is no more.  You Thaqif of the Hawazan must return to your place.  Soon, my mistress will come upon you, and you must surrender your place to her and to her people.  Now, Go.”  He emphasized the Go! and the soldiers did not argue.

“Thank you,” Katie looked up, and others echoed the sentiment.

“Glad we did not have to kill them all,” Decker said, and spit.  Nanette slapped his arm, and she did not hit him lightly, but Decker just grinned.

“I know,” Djin said, and matched the grin.  “I would have liked to have seen that.”

“So, can you take us to Bahati?” Lincoln asked, before Djin changed his mind about telling the soldiers to go home.

“I dare not,” Djin said.  “The hedge of the gods,” he reminded them.  “But I am sure you will find her, and I will watch from afar.  The wraith or other spirits will not bother you.”  He grinned again and vanished, letting the sand fall where it would.

“That is nice of him to protect us from spiritual things,” Sukki said, showing some trepidation, but remaining positive.  Lincoln had to ruin it.

“What other spirits?  And he did not say anything about wild creatures, natural disasters, earthquake, famine, pestilence, heat stroke, dehydration, or anything like that.”

“Hush,” Alexis told him.  “Everyone.  Stay hydrated.  Drink plenty of water and stay covered if we come to another sandy area.”

“Elder Stow?” Katie looked at the Gott-Druk.  He had a laser tool in one hand, the screen device in the other, but he paused and pushed up his goggles to answer.

“I thought I had it just about fixed, but here, I’m going to have to rebuild an entire board, and I don’t know if I have the elements to do that.  It depends on where the fault is.”

“Maybe the Kairos can help with that,” Lockhart said, and added, “Mount up.”  They were already packed, so he decided they might as well move.

###

They moved—another five days, and Boston explained.  “We are only traveling at most twenty miles per day in this climate, depending on if we get to a green section or a more arid section.”

“Hot and dry in either case,” Lincoln said, and splashed water in his face.

“No,” Alexis contradicted him.  “The green areas are a bit more humid.”

“What?” Decker interjected.  “Five percent to six percent humidity?”

“Anyway,” Boston interrupted, and then copied Lincoln.  “Sweny Way.  We aren’t traveling the thirty to forty miles per day we travel in better climates.  It’s those naps.  But it was not so bad when the Kairos was moving in our direction.  After eight days, we did not even cover two hundred miles.  More like one-seventy.  Even so, we are close now, but for some reason the Kairos stopped moving.  I have no idea why.  But we can probably reach her tomorrow night if we push a little.  Maybe then we can find out.”

People paused in silence until Katie spoke.  “I recommend we stop short tomorrow and some ride ahead to check it out.  Maybe it is nothing, but knowing the Kairos, we could be headed into who knows what?”

Lockhart looked around.  No one objected, and Decker even said, “Good plan.”  They would do that.

“Sweny Way,” Alexis took the conversation.  “Even with as hot, tired, and slow as we get in this climate, at least we have found some food worth eating; dates, figs, grapes, potatoes, and onions.”

“Game has been a bit slim,” Nanette pointed out.

“That one farmer was not too happy when he caught you picking his dates,” Boston reminded everyone, and gave it her best elf grin.

The group stopped by the date palms and Sukki, Nanette, Decker, Lincoln, and Alexis went to see what they could find.  Boston stayed out front, her elf senses flared, on alert.  Katie and Lockhart remained mounted and armed, just in case.  They stayed by the front of the wagon where Tony wet down Ghost the mule.  Tony figured he was as close as the group had to a muleskinner, so he took it upon himself to drive the wagon through that time zone.  He knew best how to avoid the ruts, potholes, and rocks on that camel trail.  The last thing they needed in that heat was a broken wheel, or worse, a broken axel.  They had spares in the wagon, but no one wanted to do such a job.  Tony figured that was why the locals stuck with camels and did not have much in the way of wheeled vehicles.

Elder Stow, of course, took the spare minutes to examine his work on the screen device.  The group did not stop and pick much, though, before a man, and probably his son showed up, and yelled.

Lincoln quickly pulled the pouch from his belt.  It was not hard pulling out two gold coins, one Persian and one Roman.  “Here,” he told the man, and put the coins in the man’s hand.  “Let me add a couple of silver coins to that.”  He again took a moment to pull out one Persian and one Roman, not knowing what the value of the coins might be, but knowing the gold and silver had to have some value, regardless.  In fact, Lincoln surmised he handed the man an entire year’s wages.

“Don’t watch,” he said.  “Look at the coins in your hand, or maybe close your eyes until we leave.”  It was only a suggestion.

The man watched his hand for a while, before he closed his eyes.  He hardly moved that whole time.  The son sat down and watched the travelers work, until Sukki decided to fly up and check the taller palms.  Then the boy stifled a shriek and closed his eyes, too.  The travelers did not stay long, and hardly picked all the crop.  The farmer still had most of his crop and the coins as well, so he did not complain.

The next day, the travelers did push themselves.  Boston said they were a day away from the Kairos.  She might as well have said they were a day away from a five-star bed and breakfast.  When they got close, they found a campsite and Lockhart, Boston the elf, the marines Katie and Decker, and Lincoln, the former spy, rode ahead and looked for a hill and some rocks they could hide behind, and watch.  They wanted to gauge the events before just stumbling in.

Lockhart and Lincoln got the binoculars.  Katie and Decker used the scopes from their rifles, and of course, Boston did not need the help, having elf eyes that could see a fly on the back of a horse at a hundred paces.  It looked like a madhouse in the valley below, until Lincoln clarified the sight.

“Refugees.  And apparently from a number of different groups, maybe tribes that are not exactly on a friendly basis with each other.”

“Agreed,” Decker confirmed that thought.  “Refugee camps sometimes have families from both sides of a conflict plus people from innocent groups that happen to be caught up in the conflict, even if they haven’t taken sides.”

Lockhart looked at Katie.  She shrugged.

“We don’t get first-hand experience in the Pentagon.”

“There is an army camp down there,” Boston pointed out.

“Several hundred soldiers,” Decker said.

“Probably where Bahati is,” Lincoln said.  “And maybe General Semka, and Ouazebas.”

“Whoever they are,” Lockhart shrugged.

“Not really an army,” Katie objected.

“More like a big company, or small battalion,” Decker agreed.  “I wonder where the rest of the army is.”

Katie explained.  “A Roman legion has between three to five thousand men.  Any conquering army would have some one thousand soldiers or more, even in this environment.  They would probably have, maybe, five hundred to a thousand others; what the Romans called auxiliary and logistics troops.”

“I count five hundred, tops,” Decker agreed.  “Probably closer to three hundred actual soldiers and auxiliaries.”

Lockhart raised the binoculars for another look.  “I wonder where the rest of the army is.”

Boston spoke up.  “I would guestimate around two thousand refugees, or more.  Can’t see inside all the tents.”

“Definitely different groups that don’t appear friendly to each other,” Lincoln added.

“Excellent deductive reasoning,” a middle-aged man said, as he appeared beside the group and pretended to hide with them.  “Excellent.  Let me see the binoculars.”

“Djin,” Boston named the man.

Lockhart handed them over, reluctantly.  “Don’t run off with them,” he said.

“Please,” Djin frowned.  “I am not a dragon to run off with bright, shiny objects.”  He added, “Wow,” when he looked through them.  “I have to get me a pair of these.”

“That’s what Tiamat said about Lockhart’s shotgun.”

“Fortunately, I remember when she got killed,” Katie said.  “We ran into Eliyawe, Marduk and Assur, and the nymphs were carrying the body of Osiris back to Egypt.”

Djin backed up a bit and looked at the travelers.  “Yes,” he said.  “I must remember you are not from around here.”