R5 Greta: Connecting the Dots, part 1 of 3

September 24, 2018September 3, 2018M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“Thissle!” Greta saw the little one and wondered what she was doing there. She was invisible, so in no immediate danger from the men in the room, but still…

“Gods you’re beautiful,” Darius said. It took a moment for Greta to realize he was talking about her.

“I am not,” she said. “Have you been here all night?”

“Yes he has. Just about,” Thissle said.

Darius recovered himself. “Nice outfit.”

“What, this old thing?” Greta joked, but when he laughed she rebuked herself. She was not going to play lovers games with him. “All right, Thissle.” She turned her back on Darius. “What is this all about? Why are you here?”

“You see?” Greta heard Darius interrupt.

“I see, but I don’t believe it.” The Roman guard answered in Greek.

“Agreed.” The Dacian also knew some Greek.

Greta knew what they were talking about. Thissle stayed invisible after all. “Do you want to see?”

“No Mother.” The Dacian responded quickly and in Dacian.

The Roman sounded more thoughtful. “If Lord Darius has not been talking to himself all night, I really do not want to know it.” Berry laughed and started to hand him a tart.

“No!” Greta jumped. “That’s fairy food,” and to the Dacian she said, “Food of the elves.” The Roman politely said, “No thank you,” and stepped back while Greta closed the door to Usgard above Midgard, and let it dissipate and disappear. Darius asked the guards if they would rather wait outside, and they readily agreed. But Berry had not finished. She offered a tart to Darius who examined it carefully, and sniffed it.

“Is it safe?” Darius asked.

“It’s too late for you,” Greta answered. “You might as well enjoy it.” At which point he took a bite and lost himself in contented munching sounds. “Well?” Greta turned again to Thissle, confident that this time she would not be interrupted.

“Well, Lady.” Thissle curtsied. “Thorn and I were awakened around sundown by the sound of a whole army setting up to camp beside the road.”

“Thorn?” Greta asked.

“Yes, it’s just Thorn, now, if you please,” Thissle said. “And, well, we did not know if they were goods or bads, so we thought we had better come and warn you. He knows all the ways, you know. Forwards and backs and overs and unders. We got here around midnight, I guess, and my Thorn found us all the way to your room.”

“The legion is still a day and a half away,” Darius interjected.

“My Lord thinks so, but Thorn and I think it is more like two days the way they move so slow and all,” Thissle continued. “But then when we got here, you were not here, but the door was, so we figured out where you were.”

“You figured it out, Miss Thissle,” Darius said. “I heard you say she’s gone to Avalon.”

Thissle reddened a bit and turned to Darius. “It was a lucky guess, is all,” she said. “But then came the real surprise. You saw us plain as day, you did.” She turned back to Greta. “Thorn said to stand still and quiet and maybe he just saw a glimpse or heard something like the wind, but he walked right up to us and he said we had better come right in and tell him who we were, he said, “My lady will want to know why you have come, but she won’t be back until morning.”

“I could go fetch her,” Thorn said, but my lord blocked his way.

“No, she said I was the only one to fetch her if she needed to be fetched.” And as the doorway was closed, there wasn’t much else we could do except sit down and explain ourselves. Lord Darius caught on real quick. He knew we were invisible to the guards, but he just ignored them and talked free as if he did not care if they thought he was crazy. We told him all about the army and he figured out from some of the things we said that it was his seventh legion. So he got a paper and wrote some words, and then took Thorn to wake up his friend Marcus so Marcus could put his seal on the paper. Then Thorn is up and gone to take this message to General Pontius, and my Lord is back here to keep me company all night.” Greta looked at Darius and she did not give him a soft look.

“I outlined the situation here with a note that we might be able to hold them for a day, but once they broke into the city, they would be fortified and able to mount a real defense. Then it would be impossible to dislodge them except at great expense.”

“How could you do that to Thorn?” she asked. “He will be in as much danger with you Romans as he would be with the Quadi. Do you trust this General not to stick him in a cage and do—who knows what?” Out of deference to Thissle, she did not suggest that the General might roast him for supper.

Darius nodded thoughtfully. “General Pontius is a true believer. He would not dare hurt Thorn, especially since Marcus wrote at the top of the letter, if you hurt one quill on my little friend, I will have you crucified.” Darius seemed to think that would answer everything.

“My Lady.” Thissle spoke innocently, but out of turn. “You must love him very much for him to have such authority to see us invisible and all. And here, you are only betrothed and not even properly married and all.”

Greta felt embarrassed, and with her fair skin that became easy to see. It made her freckles stand out and that felt even more embarrassing. “I don’t,” she lied. “This wedding was not my idea.”

“Well it wasn’t mine, either.” Darius shot right back.

“But you’re a soldier, and a loyal Roman,” she said, sharply. “What do you want with a wife?”

“Look at you, wise woman.” He also returned her tone. “With all of your little ones and every man and woman of the Dacians doting on your every word, what need do you have for a husband? What am I? Just some burden you have to bear.”

“What do the Dacians matter? I suppose you will want to live in Rome.”

“I thought about it,” he answered honestly.

“Well, you can forget it. I’ll never be your submissive, obedient little wife to stay at home with the servants, cooking and cleaning your villa so you can run off to your Roman lover.”

Darius gave her a hard look. “That’s not fair. I never asked you to cook or clean. You never asked what I want, so don’t start putting words in my mouth.”

“You said yourself that you wanted that Roman woman.”

“That’s not fair, either. I haven’t even thought of her for almost a month. But what about that lover boy of yours?”

“He’s a jerk,” Greta said, in all honestly, and with a bit more softness in her voice.

“And she never answered any of my letters.” He also softened his response. “It was all one sided. She may even be married by now.”

“So, where does that leave us?” Greta asked.

“Where we started, I guess,” he answered.

“Ahem!” Berry interrupted. “My Lord Darius, I mean, Darius, would you make an escort for me and Hans to visit my sister, Fae?”

“I can do that, Berry,” Darius said. He still looked at Greta but took Berry’s hand.

“Wait.” Greta stopped them. She stood on her toes and planted a quick kiss on Darius’ lips. Then she stepped away and looked down. “I’ll see you in the hall.” She could not tell the expression on his face. She could not bring herself to look up at him.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.” He touched her hair, but she still would not look at him. She did hear Berry, however, as they left.

“I hope me and Hans don’t have to say those things. I could never ‘member all that.”

Greta looked at Thissle and almost laughed. “You love him and he loves you,” Thissle said. “You humans are the strangest creatures in all creation.”

Greta did laugh, and she also cried, smiled and sniffed. “I do love him, you know. I tried calling him the enemy and the oppressor of my people and whatever awful thing I could think of, but he is all I can think of no matter what I do.”

“Not like my Thorn,” Thissle said. “We spent a hundred years, hardly able to touch each other, praying that we would find you, and praying that you would help us when we did. And you did help us. But then there is you. Lady, all you need to do is help yourself. He is already as much yours as anyone can be.”

Could she really give up her friends, her family, her home? Could she really be a Roman wife and not feel a traitor to her own people? “But if I help myself, I might be…” She started to speak her thoughts but they all sounded hollow and foolish.

“Might be what?” Thissle asked rhetorically. “Might be happy? Yes, you might.” She answered herself.

“Hear hear!” An echo came from the statuette. Greta had forgotten about Madwick and the others, covered as they were under the cloth she brought, but they had been privy to everything. Greta pulled down the cloth. “Please to make your acquaintance, Miss Thissle.” Lord Burns popped his head out. Greta had to introduce them all, but then she reminded them that they were supposed to be a dead idol, and she covered them again, picked them up carefully and headed toward the Great Hall.

R5 Greta: And Back Again, part 2 of 3

September 18, 2018September 2, 2018M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Greta looked up to see her escort of friends and the craftsmen waiting patiently. They all stared at her, and she knew why. With each thought, she had been a different person of the Kairos. She had been a different Traveler and without even realizing it. She became Greta again, but she imagined the whole process had been something to watch. It seemed something to experience. She never skipped a beat in her thought processes. It felt like she was only one person doing all of that thinking, which, of course, she was, regardless of who she appeared to be, outwardly.

“Master Burns,” she said. “I need four fire sprites for a dangerous mission. I cannot guarantee survival, so it must be purely voluntary. If there are not four, I will understand.” She outlined her problem and her plan to the craftsmen, and when she finished, Lord Madwick answered her.

“No problem with volunteers,” he said. “Far too many, I would imagine.” That settled things.

Greta made Berry come home for supper, even though Berry protested, vigorously. She made Berry get big and get into her own bed to sleep. Berry whined her teenage best, but barely hit the pillow before she fell fast asleep. It had been a long, tiring day.

Greta spent a little time trying to imagine what her confrontation with Lady Brunhild might be like, but soon enough, she too slept, and she rested.

In the morning, Berry had gone. It took no insight to realize that she got up in the middle of the night and snuck out to frolic with her new friends under the moon.

That morning, Greta had a bite to eat in her room, and then she sat in the tub long enough to wizzle her toes while several elf maids made a fuss over her. They painted her nails, trimmed her brows, fixed her hair, even added some fairy braids, and fixed her face just so. Greta tried the mirror. The elfs could do magic on nearly anything, but even they could not make her beautiful. There did not seem to be much they could do about her freckles, either, so she stretched her fairy cloth to cover her shoulders and shaped it until it resembled the style of dresses she felt used to wearing. She did indulge herself a little by making the dress conform a bit to her young figure rather than let it fall in the frumpy, one-size-fits-all pattern of her people. She was just seventeen after all, even if she would soon be an old married woman. She reminded herself that she had no room left in her life for childhood. She was the woman of the ways. She was a goddess to her little ones. She was the Traveler in Time, the Watcher over History, and the Dacians got guns, and the Romans wanted them. When she finally left her room, she felt older than time.

Lunch could have been an all-day affair, but Greta’s statuette got ready by one and she went immediately to examine the handiwork. It proved very hard metal, and fireproof, and yet Greta thought it would have been extremely light if they had not studded it with gold and bits of emeralds, rubies and diamonds. She decided it appeared a bit ostentacious, but then again, that might make it acceptable to Lady Brunhild. She struck Greta as the kind of woman who went in for that sort of thing. She felt sure at least the Priest, Vasen would appreciate it.

Greta toured another couple of guard posts in the afternoon. Greta noticed that each home for a sprite in each place looked different. The craftsmen kept trying to make things appear as natural as possible and not make it appear as if they were guard posts at all. For the water sprites, for example, one place had a fountain, a second, a simple fish pond and a third, a bubbling spring. Greta praised the work. She knew that would be important to hear praise from their goddess. She felt glad it was easy to do.

During their last supper on Usgard, Berry yawned the whole time. Greta said she had to stay and sleep that night because they would be leaving very early in the morning. Berry did not think that would be a problem. She remained more human than not, after all, and her human side started catching up to her. She said her good-byes to Mab and her friends while Greta said good-bye to the assembly. Then they went to bed and slept very well.

The elf maids woke up Greta around four in the morning. They seemed to delight in fixing her hair, her face, and helping her dress. Greta thought she still looked exceptionally ordinary, but it could not be helped. She thanked the ladies and got ready to wake Berry, when Mrs. Kettleblack came banging in.

“Breakfast,” she announced in a very loud voice, and Berry sat straight up. “I got pastries and sweet tarts this morning,” Mrs. Kettleblack said. She did not mean to be loud. It was just her normal way. Honestly, she did not know any other way.

“Morning?” Berry mumbled. “It’s still dark out.” That was not strictly true. The eastern horizon showed a touch of light.

“Can’t leave on an empty stomach.” Mrs. Kettleblack finished her speech.

“Thank you Mrs. Kettleblack,” Greta said, and the old dwarf laughed and shooed everyone out of the room. Greta and Berry got left alone.

“These sweet tarts are good, Lady,” Berry said.

Greta looked at her while she took one to try.

“What?” Berry asked at last. She did not appear comfortable being stared at. The truth, however, was Greta was still not quite awake herself. She stared at nothing in particular

“You have to stay big, now, when we go back,” Greta said.

“I know, Lady,” Berry said. “As big as my Hans.”

That brought something to mind. “Berry, sweet. It won’t do to call me lady anymore, unless you say Lady Greta.” She paused. She didn’t even know Darius’ family name.

Berry spoke into the silence. “But Lady Kairos. I have to call you something, and everyone knows you don’t like to be called goddess.”

“So just call me Greta,” she said.

R5 Greta: How May Miles to Avalon? part 2 of 3

August 14, 2018August 7, 2018M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“You must be Bogus,” Greta said, while a quick image flashed through her mind. Basically, she thought if he took her home to where there were six others that looked just like him, she would hit him.

“And just who are you?” Bogus asked. Danna had hidden the truth from him so he honestly did not know.

“Greta,” she said. “Plain old Greta.” And she thought real hard at Berry to keep her big little mouth shut.

“Oh, no,” Berry said. “I’m no tale teller. No I’m not.”

“So, what exactly do you want?” Bogus asked.

“I want you to take me to my brother, Hans. I appreciate you looking after him, but it is time that he and I finish our journey.”

“I don’t know any Hans.” Bogus sounded very sincere.

“Just take me to him,” Greta insisted before Fae could say a thing.

“All right,” Bogus said, as if he suddenly changed his mind. He turned, but stopped in mid-step. “Why am I doing this?”

“Just…” Greta started.

“Oh, I’ll do it,” Bogus said, and started to walk again. “I just don’t know why, that’s all.”

They walked slowly because Fae could not walk very fast, and all the while, Bogus mumbled. “I protect my people. I work out a fair deal, a fair deal, mind you. And we take the wyvern, the bogie and all of the other not so nice on our side. And then all we get is squeezed between the river and the road, but that’s all right because at least there is a little room for us to be free, and what happens? A mere seventy years later, a measly seventy years, mind you, and the goddess shows up out of nowhere and Poof! It’s all gone. Then she says I gotta give this dumb girl her dumb brother back besides. I tell you, what is the world coming to?”

Greta looked around briefly to see how Fae and Berry were getting along, but when she looked back, Bogus had gone. Instead, there came a tremendous roar and a vision of horrible ugliness that towered before them. It stood right in the path, and all three women screamed, and Fae at least feared that Bogus might have been eaten. Greta jumped forward without thinking to get between Fae and the beast. She was not sure how Fae’s old heart could stand it.

“Stop that!” She yelled at the beast without really thinking about what she did. She just reacted. “Bad, bad ogre!” She yelled, and then she slapped the ogre in his outstretched arm, truly without thinking. Curiously, the ogre wilted under her scolding and, though he would not have felt a human slap, he howled in pain at Greta’s touch. Then Greta remembered that ogres were included among her little ones, though they could hardly be called little. “Bad, bad.” She said again, and the ogre winced as if under hammer blows. Then Greta felt sorry for the beast. Berry was hide-ed in Fae’s hair, and Fae, while clearly repulsed, at the same time, she seemed fascinated with the sight.

“You scared us badly,” Greta said, a bit more softly. “You really are an ugly, scary ogre. I bet if you saw your own reflection you would even scare yourself.”

“I did once,” the ogre proudly admitted, and he turned a little red from embarrassment.

Fae drew her breath in sharply as Greta stepped up and put her hand right up to the ogre’s mouth; but Greta had no fear. “Oh, I knew it.” Greta praised the creature and he turned ever redder as she began to scratch beneath the fold of his chin where his own hammy hands could not scratch. Ogres develop a kind of moldy fungus there which otherwise only grows on rocks. It is not painful, but it itches terribly and Greta imagined that might be why ogres were sometimes so mean.

“Have you always been this scary, or did you grow scary when you got older?” She made polite conversation. At the moment, he was thumping his leg against the ground like a puppy dog. The ground shook a little and Greta felt obliged to stop scratching to let him answer.

“Always,” he said and stuck his chin out for more.

“What’s your name?” Greta asked, not offering any more scratches.

“Thunderhead.”

“Well, Thunderhead, you know you are not allowed to scare humans.” She almost scolded again and that took his attention from his chin.

“Bogus said it was only fairies. He said it was a prank.” Thunderhead defended himself in the classic way. He blamed someone else.

“No, Dunderhead.” Berry jumped out and began to scold him herself. Evidently, she knew him. “No hurting the humans. It is not permitted.” He listened, but at the same time he made a couple of slow attempts to grab the sprite darting in front of him. It looked a bit like trying to swat a fly with a wrought iron lamppost. Greta backed up a little to avoid the flailing arms. “Don’t make our goddess mad at you,” Berry said. “You have had enough scratchies.”

“No telling,” Greta insisted.

“I’m no tale teller.” Berry said, and she fluttered back to hover between Fae and Greta.

“What do you do, Thunderhead?” Fae asked out of curiosity.

“I make sand,” the ogre said, frankly. “I crush the rocks to make the soil good.” He made a fist, like he was showing her how it was done. “But sometimes my hands get tired so I crush them with my head. But right now, I got terrible itches. Maybe you scratch or I eat you, rule or no rule.”

Greta’s jaw dropped. “Of all the nerve!” She got a little angry, and the ogre wilted again under her lashing. “You frighten my friends, but I make nice. I compliment you and scratch under your chin, and what do I get? You threaten to eat us anyway! Serves me right for being nice to an ogre! Now move, you big, ugly oaf!” The ogre raised his arms as if to ward off her tongue, but she slapped his arm again, and this time he felt something electric in her touch. Thunderhead howled and jumped back about eight feet.

“You sound like Bogus,” he confessed, while he sucked on his arm and eyed Greta with awe.

“Yes.” Greta started building up a good head of steam. “Bogus! Bogus the Skin!”

“What? Who?” He appeared right in front of her. “What am I doing back here?” He got confused, at first.

“The goddess said take me to my brother and she meant safely. She did not say I should be threatened by an ogre!”

Bogus deflected her anger by turning on Thunderhead. “Thunderhead. What have you been doing?” He began a scolding of his own, but Greta interrupted before the ogre could speak.

“He only did what you told him to do,” she said. “Yes, I know the truth.” She added before Bogus could lie about his innocence. “Now get moving. I want my Hans back, and Thunderhead.”

“Me?” Thunderhead paused in his sucking. He looked visibly shaken.

“Go make some sand, and maybe, if you are real good, just maybe your itchies will go away for a while.”

“Yes,” Thunderhead said. “I will. I will.” He did not know what to make of her, but he felt sure that she was one he ought to listen to.

“Move,” Greta said a bit more softly as the steam began to run its’ course.

“I’m moving,” Bogus said. “What is the world coming to? And who are you, anyway?”

R5 Festuscato: The Sword in the Stone, part 2 of 2

May 29, 2018May 9, 2018M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Someone shouted for Constantine, and many picked up on the thought. Festuscato said, “Constantine,” but Dumfries spoke into his mind for a third time and said he was all set. Constantine stepped up and looked around at all the anxious faces.

“I hope this works,” he confessed quietly to Festuscato, and put his hand to the sword. It came out easily. People hushed. Then the Germans said he should put it back. Festuscato stalled. He called over the Archbishop, Meryddin, and a Saxon Holy Man. He talked about priests, temples, churches and sacred ground, and Constantine pledged to punish any man who harmed a priest or holy man going about their sacred duties and any man who desecrated the sacred places. Archbishop Guithelm said he accepted Constantine as high chief and war chief of Britannia, and he stepped forward to anoint the man. Meryddin, aware of the political implications, also laid hands on Constantine. The German looked at his people and said nothing. Then Dumfries gave the go ahead, and Festuscato urged Contantine to put the sword back, carefully. Constantine clearly felt it when the stone sucked the sword out of his hand.

“And there it will stay until the next time it is needed,” Festuscato said quickly.

“Wait.” Gregor stepped up and put his hands to the hilt. He pulled and let out a roar. He pulled hard enough to move the boulder a smidgen, but the sword held fast. “Just testing,” he said with a big grin.

“Who will pledge to Constantine?” The Celts were all in. Hellgard was right there with them, and Hrugen the Dane and a man named Cadal, a Pict, joined the Celts as well, though Cadal and Hrugen were more symbolic being able to speak only for themselves. The Germans and Gorund the Jute were not interested. Festuscato stopped them before they walked out.

“You understand what having a war chief mean?” Several men nodded. “Then listen close. This is my island. The Hun overstepped his place and got thrown off my island to never come back. But I want peace, so here is the word. Londinium will remain in British hands, but outside the walls will be neutral ground where men of good faith can trade and live in harmony. Britain also claims five miles on either side of the Thames from Oxford to the sea. Be careful not to settle along the river. Other than that, you can negotiate a fair boundary for your land. Once that is settled, stay behind your boundary and live in peace. Do you understand this?” The men said they did. “Do you accept this?” All but Gorund agreed. “The Hun will not be forgotten.” He stared at Gorund. “Do you accept this?”

“Yes,” the man said angrily as he walked out, and the Germans followed him.

“I see trouble in time,” Constantine said, as he stood beside Festuscato’s elbow.

“Don’t worry about the future,” Festuscato smiled. “Today’s troubles are enough.” He raised his voice. “Where are the boys?”

The men got their boys and gathered around, and Festuscato explained what a squire was. To learn about the world, to hunt and fish and camp, and cook something on a campfire worth eating. To learn about weapons, and about the care and feeding of horses, “Because the lords of Britannia should be mounted for battle.” To learn how to read and write in Latin. “Because the next generation of young lords ought to be able to communicate with each other no matter where they are from.” He explained many things, and was surprised to find both Meryddin and the Archbishop thought it a wonderful idea. Then Festuscato gave sons into the keeping of their neighbors and other Lords. Meryddin tried hard to suggest certain Christian boys be given into the charge of men who were strong believers in the old ways, but Festuscato would not have it. He had his list written on paper. When he had done, he reminded the men to visit home at least twice a year so the boys could visit their mom. He did not worry about the Latin because there were still enough people of Roman decent around who conversed in the tongue.

When all got done, Festuscato hardly ate a thing. It had been a long day, and he felt exhausted. He hardly talked, even to Constantine, though he encouraged Constans who had Anwyn’s son from Caerdyf as squire. The boy was fifteen, and Festuscato told Constans how terrible he was at that age. He walked off, and Mirowen who just found him said, “Fifteen is a wonderful age. Why don’t you take him to visit King Ban of Benwick? He can learn how to respond properly to other lords and ladies.” Of course, she knew Constans would really want an excuse to visit Ivy, but having spent time with the girl, she knew the girl felt the same way.

Father Gaius came up to Festuscato when things started winding down for the night. He came with Bishop Lavius, newly ordained Bishop of Caerleon in Wales. He also had a man in his thirties beside him who appeared to be a priest, but dressed more like a monk, like a priest ready to travel. Gaius introduced him.

“This is Patrick. We were wondering if you might be tempted to go anywhere near Ireland.”

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

R5 Festuscato: The Sword in the Stone, part 1 of 2

May 28, 2018May 9, 2018M G Kizzia 1 Comment

It got closer to July fifteenth before everyone gathered. The monks hoped to keep everyone housed and fed, but after the generous donation Lord Agitus gave for the building of Saint Paul’s Church, the Archbishop said it was the least they could do.

Festuscato spent that last month going over his list and checking it twice. Pinewood gave him the list of young men and Lords that were expected. After the success against the Huns and at York, quite a few were expected. Festuscato felt a little concerned about the Saxons, Angles and Hellgard’s older brother, the self-proclaimed King of the Jutes, but he tried to think positive.

All the men gathered around the courtyard that would be laid between the Church and the Monastery. Right at the moment, it was just a big open space with a big stone in the middle. A loadstone Bogus found and Dumfries provided proved a strong enough magnet to hold the sword. The slot had been prepared, and Caliburn properly fixed so it would stick fast.

“But what if they want Contantine or his son to pull the sword?” Festuscato got concerned.

Bogus the dwarf and Dumfries the Dark elf went off for a while to work on that problem. What they came up with was a spell to temporarily remove the spell that allowed Caliburn to be caught by the magnet. “But I don’t know if it will work more than once,” Bogus admitted. It was not the way Festuscato remembered it in Gerraint’s time, but he dared not interfere with history. It would have to do.

The first order of business became the sword. Festuscato stood at the center of a circle of men and raised his hands. Caliburn appeared in his hands, even as he glanced to the side and saw Meryddin eyeing him closely. Gorund the Jute, Hellgard’s brother, scoffed and said he had a magician who could do better tricks than that.

“This is the sword of Britannia,” Festuscato ignored the Jute and went on with the program. “The one who wields this sword in the rightful high chief and dux bellorum of all Britannia.” He spun and slipped the sword into the cut so it looked like he actually shoved the sword into the solid rock. He felt it grab when it got about half-way in, and he got the message from Dunfries that it was all set. No one would to pull it out if he had to reach up and hold on to it himself.

“Gentlemen. By all means, be my guest.” He invited men to try it.

Cador and Ban could not pull it out, but someone said that was a set-up. and they were just pretending. Gildas said, “I won’t pretend.” He spit on his hands and hurt himself trying to tug on it. Eudof, the Welshman also tried, and then Meryddin stepped up, and people paid attention.

“Trickery,” Meryddin announced. He sprinkled some kind of dust on the stone and chanted. Festuscato worried for a second, but he heard from Dumfries again, speaking right into his head, that he tried the wrong sort of spell and would not overcome the magnet. Meryddin tugged, but the sword stayed stuck fast.

One of the Saxons stepped up. “Can’t expect a Celt to do a man’s work.” He laughed, but he couldn’t budge the sword.

“Weakling.” Gorund the Jute stepped up and got mad when he could not pull out the sword. He pulled his own sword to hack at the sword in the stone, but a blue light hit him in the chest, knocked him back ten feet, and knocked him senseless.

Elect II—18 Spring Break, part 3 of 3

February 8, 2017February 4, 2017M G Kizzia Leave a comment

The women left the bodies of the men to their fate. Those bodies would have just slowed them down. When they were ready, they vacated the ledge at the top of the hill and rode hard down the hill. Immediately, Melissa’s alarm went off. It was a perfect imitation of a car alarm and made all those different annoying sounds. But the orcs who decided against direct confrontation were not against hiding in the bushes and pelting the troop with arrows.

Jessica happened to turn her head so the arrow just scratched across her cheek. Two elves were wounded, one in the arm where she held her shield and one in the leg just below her shield. Most of the arrows fell short or hit the shields the women had pulled out against just this possibility. Emily’s horse took an arrow behind the saddle, but it did not penetrate deep and soon fell out on its own. Fortunately, the horse did not balk. It ran with the rest as hard as it could.

When the women got out of range and the alarm died down, they paused only long enough to examine their wounds. The bloody one was Jessica’s cheek, but a bandage was about all they could do. The bandage would turn red, but soon stop the bleeding. The one most seriously injured was the elf with the arrow in her arm, but she broke off the shaft of the arrow and looked at her Captain with determination etched through the pain.

“Ride,” the elf said, and Riverbend, who was barely holding to her own horse did not argue. They rode, perhaps not all out, but at a swift pace all along that valley. Twice more they heard Melissa’s alarm, but they did not stop. They rode through and saw no more arrows. And they saw no more orcs until evening, just at sunset.

The trees were already back to normal. The light was pure and untainted with the darkness. Sara and some others hoped they were out of it, but Riverbend knew better even if no one else did. Sure enough, there was a line of orcs directly in their path, and that line was three thick. The whole troop came to a halt some distance away.

“No way around,” Riverbend said. The river to their right was too fast and deep, and the trees to their left would give them no chance of outrunning the enemy. Emily did not pause.

“Wounded to the rear. Everyone else form up like two sides of a triangle behind me. We poke a hole to ride through. Protect the wounded.” To be sure, the line was ragged and would get more so once they started to ride, but the idea was there.

“Lances everyone,” Riverbend yelled. “Tuck them tight under your arms and shields up.”

Emily began to trot, Riverbend beside her. They all had fairy weave helmets since Jessica took that arrow in the face. No doubt they looked as formidable as they could be. The enemy began to shoot some arrows when they were still out of range, and there was some yelling and shoving among the orcs. But then the women were in full charge mode, spears pointed forward like needles deadlier than any arrow. Some orcs began to back away.

Then they were within range.

Fifty arrows came at them all at once, followed by fifty more. Some of the first fell short and some of the second overshot their targets. But some struck hard on. Many of the arrows were stopped by helmets, shields and armor, but a few penetrated. Two horses went down, but the elf with an arrow in her leg reached down and picked up one of the elves without stopping. Mindy was a bit more difficult. Arwen had to slow considerably to bring her aboard. Then they had to catch up, but by then Emily and Riverbend reached the enemy line and the orcs scattered, or died. The hole was plenty wide when Arwen and Mindy went through last, and they were free.

Two hundred yards on and they stopped. The orcs were not following them and there were wounded. Just about everyone was hurt, or had an arrow somewhere. The Kevlar proved effective, but not entirely so. Melissa had an arrow in her thigh. Maria had one in her side not unlike the one Jessica took all those ages ago in the gym. At least that was how it felt apart from the pain. Mindy likely had a concussion to match Amina’s. Jessica’s cheek was bleeding badly again, and Emily was sure her hand was broken this time. Even Sara took an arrow, in her foot, but she was more embarrassed by it than otherwise.

They left two dead elves on the field, and Emily started the tears. The elves cried with them, and then Sara started the hugging. It was not long, though, before they all vanished from that place and found themselves in a courtyard of the castle where little ones of every shape and size stood ready with stretchers and elf medicine that Maria the healer and Emily the would-be nurse wished they knew how to make.

###

Once the Amazons were settled in the hospital, all in the same ward, Zoe came to visit them. “At least none of you got killed,” she said with a smile. Several of the women moaned. “And I thank you for retrieving the apples. That was one of the things my elves could not retrieve.” she added as she turned to Amina. “Any idea who the mysterious goddess might be?”

Amina started to shake her head, but it hurt so she said, “No.” And it was a sad little no.

Zoe smiled again. “Cheer up. I have every confidence you will solve my mystery soon enough. Now get well. You still have a whole week of spring break. No reason why you shouldn’t spend it here.”

Zoe left. Nurses came and changed bandages and gave pills, just like back home. Then they were told to rest, but Hilde, who had said nothing that whole time finally spoke up.

“So tell me again why I am doing this?”

“You said in Israel you would be doing the same thing,’ Greta said, seriously. Several of the women looked at Greta like she had a loose screw, but Jessica remembered she was a psychology major. She probably had several loose screws.

“Can you think of any better training?” Emily asked

“I am not expecting Israel to be attacked by orcs anytime soon,” Hilde responded sharply.

“I don’t see why not,” Sara spoke up. “Everyone else wants to attack Israel.”

Hilde nodded and pointed at the Priestess. “One point for you.”

###

On the following Saturday the women sat around in the great hall where the dwarf lady, Ms Biggabut brought in some new treats for the buffet table and stayed to tend to what was already there. Riverbend and a few of her troop sat with them. Maria remarked that the week was far better than a trip to Florida if she did not gain a hundred pounds. She meant it as a compliment.

Ms Biggabut shook her head. “Young girls eat like birds.” They all smiled

“Better than Disneyland,” Jessica commented.

“Disneyworld,” Mindy corrected the Californian.

“And Six Flags put together,” Maria added.

Heads were nodding in agreement when Sara came in dressed only in a bikini. Natasha was the one who verbalized the “Wow.” They had only seen the Priestess in frumpy head to toe clothing, sometimes with a minister’s collar. This was a sight, and in fact Sara was very good looking, if not beautiful.

“Who would have thunk it?” Jessica said.

“Are you girls going swimming today? The mermaids said they would come up the river after lunch.” Sara looked down, like she, herself, was a bit embarrassed by what little she was wearing.

“Paul should see you dressed like that,” Emily said with a little impish grin that she was learning to imitate from being in such close quarters to the real thing.

Sara shook her head when a golden fairy came in the door and fluttered right up to her. “Are we ready?” the fairy asked. “You look remarkably lovely.”

The women all knew that voice. It was Commander Falcon.

Sara nodded and the fairy sprinkled her with some proverbial fairy dust. Sara rose up into the air and followed the fairy out of the room in flight.

“Paul is going to be so jealous,” Maria decided.

“She better stay away from Brinkman,” Jessica decided something else.

“Robert could not handle my little bit of magic. No way he could handle all this,” Melissa sighed.

“Bill would be freaking out, too,” Mindy responded.

“I would like a boyfriend.” It was Arwen, the elf who spoke up.

“I got mine,” Riverbend said with the biggest grin of all.

They all stopped when they heard the sharp crack of Ms Biggabut’s cooking spoon on the buffet table. “Boyfriends,” the old dwarf said through her frown. “All you get with them is the three Hs, heartaches, headaches and husbands, and husbands are usually the reason for the first two.” She cracked her spoon sharply once more when Amina spoke up.

“I think I am going to go out on another date.”

“Got anyone in mind?” Jessica asked.