Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 6 of 10

The stranger stepped into the light. He appeared a bit shorter than a man or an elf. Macreedy was the tallest person there. But then this person did not look like a man or an elf. He had red eyes, almost no ears at all, and little horns on his head; what could be seen of them through the thick black hair. He also had a forked tongue, like a snake, with which he presently licked his lips.

“A goblin,” Sandra said. She buried her face into Glen’s chest so she would not have to look at it.

“A hobgoblin.” Macreedy corrected her. He still fingered the hilt of his knife but he left it where it sat for the present.

“Ignatius Patterwig, son of Coriander.” The hobgoblin bowed, graciously.

“Coriander Patterwig?” Macreedy knew something.

“The same,” Ignatius said. “But since my father did not survive the uprising, I have had to find other employment.”

“Who?” Sandra asked.

Ellean answered. “The self-proclaimed king of the hobgobs.”

“Hobgoblins are an independent lot. They don’t take kindly to kings,” Glen explained for Sandra.

“Very perceptive for one made of blood and mud,” Ignatius said. “How…” He had to think of the right word. “How impossible.”

“Never mind that,” Sandra interrupted. “Can you show us the way to go?”

Ignatius paused and a smile turned up his lips—a smile that was too big to be human, though it never showed any teeth. That was fine. Sandra did not want to see the teeth. “I assume you are following the mother and the baby.”

“I’m the mother!” Sandra shouted. “That was my mother and my baby.”

“Do you know where they are?” Ellean asked. Panic started building up in Sandra’s voice, so Ellean verbalized for her.

Ignatius looked like he was about to say one thing, but when he looked again at Glen, he changed his mind. “I know which way they went,” he said.

“Show us,” Glen said.

“And for me?” The hobgoblin could not resist the bargain.

“Anything,” Sandra said, but everyone ignored her, and Macreedy interrupted her.

“Your life.” Macreedy got blunt.

“Your life.” Ellean agreed and she held her bow steady with the arrow aimed right at the hobgoblin.

“And what does the warrior say?” The hobgoblin asked.

“You will have the satisfaction of knowing you have done a good deed,” Glen said, and everyone looked at him like he had a loose screw, except Macreedy who got that suspicious look once more. “Now, show us.” Glen put some command in that voice.

“I will,” the hobgoblin said, but then he paused and wrinkled his brow. “But only because I am a sucker for a mother’s love.” He figured a way to justify his agreement. “This way,” he said, but as he began to walk, he turned his head, and a bit too much as far as Sandra was concerned. “Anything?” he asked.

“Too late,” Glen said. “The bargain is with me and made. Walk on.”

Ignatius grunted. “I don’t normally argue with weapons,” he admitted, still rationalizing his choice.

“And I am dressed like a true warrior,” Glen said, speaking a half-truth, like a true elf. Ellean looked impressed. Macreedy just smiled a bit and nodded.

The glow-balls took up their positions and the company walked for a long way, turning this way and that, but always keeping to what appeared to be a main tunnel. After a moment of hope, to think this creature might know where her mother and baby were, Sandra sank into despair. She kept it to herself, but had worry written all over her, and the spiritual creatures were sensitive to pick up on the feeling. Ellean kept reaching forward to touch Sandra on the shoulder and she kept speaking soothing words. That touch would have felt creepy to Sandra a day earlier, but now it helped.

“How far?” Glen finally asked. Ignatius did not answer immediately. He stooped down first and picked up a seed. Sandra stifled her shout. Then the hobgoblin spoke.

“Not much further,” he said, and not much further on, he stepped around a corner and disappeared. They stood in another cavern of sorts, but not as big as the first one and with only two ways to go. Macreedy ran past Glen and into the cavern. He looked all around as he spun on his heels.

“I knew we could not trust a hobgoblin,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Especially the bastard son of Coriander Patterwig.”

“Where did he go?’ Sandra started to ask but changed her mind. “Where are we?”

“No idea,” Ellean said, and Macreedy nodded in agreement.

“Well.” Glen wanted to be practical. “There are only two choices. I say we explore down one carefully and quietly to see where it takes us.”

“Not a good idea,” Macreedy said. “Let me remind you. These are the caves of Cormac.”

“I remember,” Glen said, and whether by accident or fate, he began down the left-hand corridor. Macreedy dimmed the glow-balls and set them in place where they would just show the way ahead and no more. They came to a wall, or what they thought was a wall.

“Wait.” Sandra noticed something, and it may have been because she was looking down in search of seeds. They all whispered, of course, because it did not take much to be heard underground, and it would not have been wise to speak loud in a cave in any case for fear that the roof might collapse. Here, though, Sandra sounded a bit sharp with her words. “Move the lights back. I want to have a look.” She knelt and put her eye to the wall and then the others saw that she had found a crack, or maybe a keyhole, and there appeared to be a dim light on the other side of the door, if it was a door.

Sandra put her eye to the hole and took a moment to focus and make sense of what she saw. It looked like a deer, laid out on a table, and it looked like a fire burned in a fireplace on the other side of the room. She looked at a bad angle. Since the firelight came right at her, rather than being off to the side, she only saw the deer and the table as a shadow against the light. She just figured this out and started wondering if anything might happen, when she saw a large, bony, clawed hand reach out and tear a whole leg off the deer, like a man might tear off a hunk of bread from a loaf. She held her breath as a face came into view, with a long dripping nose and a great tusk that rose-up beside the nose. It sniffed the air, and it turned toward her. Despite the fact that she should have only seen a shadow of the head, she saw two great yellow eyes stare back at her. It seemed as if those eyes were lit by some internal flame and would be seen, even in the absolute darkness of the cave. Sandra screamed. She could not help it. Without hesitation, everyone else yelled a single word. “Run!”

Glen grabbed Sandra’s hand and dragged her back to the big room where they turned to rush down the second tunnel. They all wondered how they could possibly get away from a creature that could move faster through the dark than they could possibly move by the light of the glow-balls.

“Wait.” Macreedy, out front, shouted, and held them back. “It has got out into the passageway.” He said it, just before they all heard it. They turned to run back to the big room, but that was no good, either. The goblins had arrived and blocked the last way out, which was the way they had come in. Sandra screamed, and again she could not help it. She buried her face in Glen’s chest so she would not have to look at the creatures.

Ignatius stood out in front of a dozen or more goblins who came armed with a variety of clubs, swords and spears. When the lumbering beast came up behind the four travelers, it stopped in the doorway, not afraid, but wary of so many intruders in its antechamber. Macreedy and Ellean both had their bows out and ready, and Glen pulled his sword from the sheath on his back. He found it not too heavy, so he could hold it up, but he could only hope he looked like someone who knew what he was doing. If it came to it, he honestly wondered if he could do anything with it at all. He could not remember ever having held a sword before and he felt afraid he might only cut himself or cut the wrong person by accident and make matters worse.

“Cormac.” Ignatius spoke over the group toward the lumbering beast that blocked the exit. “I bring you the goblin sacrifice as agreed. Accept these elves and humans and leave the dark elves in peace for a season.”

Cormac looked like he might bargain and maybe claim that the sacrifice was not enough, but from the way his lips began to drool, it felt hard to believe he might be thinking of anything but supper.

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

MONDAY

Sandra and Glen may need some extra help getting past Cormac the ever-hungry troll. Until next time, Happy Reading

*

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 5 of 10

Glen found it difficult to sleep at first, since he had such a hard time keeping his hands to himself; but then the something inside of him rose-up, and he felt he could hold this beauty after all without becoming overly excited. He slept well after that. He could not vouch for the others.

When the sun looked about ready to rise, Glen’s eyes popped open. Sandra snuggled into his shoulder, and with the little bit of new light, he looked over at the elves. He felt embarrassed. He saw Ellean snuggle up to Macreedy and Macreedy looked at her with a loving expression and tenderly brushed her long black hair behind her ear.

“Ahem.” Glen coughed softly and Macreedy looked more than slightly embarrassed. “This is a switch. It is usually the women who wake up before the lazy men.”

“Oh, we’re awake,” Ellean said, and Macreedy jumped back as if stung by a bee.

“We?” Glen asked.

“We are,” Sandra confirmed without opening her eyes. She shifted her head in Glen’s shoulder and reached for his other shoulder with her free hand. She seemed to want to snuggle some more, but Glen noticed what he had on, and though he was not exactly naked, he jumped further than Macreedy. He got out from beneath the covers altogether. All he had on was a t-shirt and boxers, though when he examined the clothes, he caught a glimpse of Fairy Weave.

“What is this?” he asked, as he sat on Sandra’s bed and covered up. He thought dark blue, and his weave turned dark blue, which seemed better than the almost translucent white it had been.

“The magic came in the night,” Ellean said. “I was surprised that it did not wake you.”

“Lord Alderon says you are to put this on.” Macreedy pointed to a suit of armor, chain on leather. It sat neatly laid out at the end of Sandra’s unused bed. There were swords and knives with the outfit, and a cape that looked reversible, with black on one side and white on the other.

“But I…” Glen considered his underwear and did not feel in a position to argue. He got into the outfit as rapidly as he could and found that it fit perfectly. It also felt very comfortable, and light, which surprised him. He had expected all that metal to weigh a hundred pounds. At last, he set his hands on the weapons. “I don’t know what to do with these,” he said. “I never killed anything bigger than a spider.”

“You need to bring them,” Macreedy said.

“I can help you put them in place,” Ellean said. “These are like the ones our god carries.”

“They are?” Glen spoke absentmindedly, because he got busy trying to figure out where they hooked on. They appeared to have rings that only needed hooks.

“Wait.” Macreedy stopped Ellean and he looked very suspicious. “Try calling to them,” he said.

“What?”

Macreedy stepped over, took the weapons, and laid them out again on the bed. “Try calling to them,” he repeated.

Glen looked at Sandra who had gotten up to watch the proceedings, but she could only shrug.

“A virtue in their making,” Macreedy suggested. “They were given to you so you should be able to call to them and they should fit themselves into place.”

“Like magic?” Sandra was not slow to catch the implication, and Macreedy nodded.

“Okay,” Glen said, but he sounded doubtful. “All-ee, all-ee in come free,” he shouted and shrugged because nothing happened. He was kidding. He tried again. “Sword, here. Knife here. Here, swordy, swordy.” Still nothing happened. He tried a poor man’s Shakespeare. “Afixeth thyself before I be off, oft.” He shrugged again. “Nothing.” Macreedy looked relieved.

Ellean began to move again to help him, but Glen held out his hand. He started getting into this. “Open sesame. Attach sesame.” He turned to loony tunes, beginning with Yosemite Sam. “Ya gal-dern galoots!” He went on for a while with nonsense words until he said something that sounded like a string of consonants with hardly any vowels at all, and the sword and knife jumped. They rushed at Glen. He covered his face. He thought maybe he angered the inanimate objects—the sharp inanimate objects, but then he heard several clicks and Sandra applauded, Ellean shouted something not at all like “golly gosh!” and Macreedy went back to looking suspicious.

“Well.” Glen looked up and smiled. “But they can stay where they are because otherwise I will probably cut my foot off.”

“Why would you cut your foot off?” Sandra asked.

“If I had a gun I would probably shoot my foot off and I figure fair is fair.” That ended the discussion about the weapons. Glen saw that both Ellean and Macreedy sported long knives at their belts and both carried bows, and that felt like more of a comfort than anything he might carry.

Sandra and Ellean found the food that had been left for their breakfast. It looked like the troops pulled out before dawn since they and their tent were all that remained in the area, and Glen looked all around. When he returned, the tent had already been reduced to a cube the size of Macreedy’s hand, which the elf slipped into his side pack. The fire still burned, though, and they had bacon and eggs cooking.

“There goes any chance of getting my clothes back, I suppose,” Glen said.

“I think you look good,” Sandra grinned.

“What, for Halloween?”

Sandra stood up to whisper in his ear. “You look sexy,” she said, and quickly scooted to the other side of Ellean.

“My birthday is the day after Halloween. I’m open to suggestions on presents,” Glen said, and Sandra turned red beneath her blond hair. Macreedy temporarily dropped his suspicious look for a confused look.

“I don’t understand the game,” he admitted, with a shake of his head.

“Human mating ritual,” Glen confessed. “You should try it sometime.” He pointed at Ellean with a shake of his head. Macreedy made no response other than to open his mouth, wide.

“Enough of that,” Sandra scolded. “Breakfast.” They ate what they could, even Glen, not normally a breakfast person; but to be sure, none of them knew when they might get another good meal.

They found the entrance to the cave close by. They did not find any seeds on the way, but they did not expect to see any. The little pile of seeds just inside the cave, where the morning light struck, and the little trail that ran away from the pile and into the dark could not have been clearer.

“Just to be certain I have this right; Melissa is two?”

“Mother?” Sandra responded, and Glen nodded as he suspected the woman had taken the seeds and left the trail.

“Still, a rather sloppy kidnapper not to notice something as obvious as this.” Glen remained skeptical.

“They may have rested here before entering the cave.” Macreedy offered an explanation. Glen did not feel so sure, but they had no choice but to go into the dark.

Macreedy pulled the three glow-balls from his pack—the ones that had been in the tent. He spoke over them, they became bright, and with a few more words, they began to float in the air, one out front, one in the middle, overhead, and one just behind the group. Sandra looked amazed to see real magic and stepped closer to Glen. Pointed ears were one thing, but the outright impossible was quite another.

“Macreedy is so talented.” Ellean praised him, and Macreedy looked like he might say, “Tut-tut” at any moment.

“Y-yes.” Sandra stuttered around the smile that she pasted on her face. Glen felt less surprised. He paid attention when Macreedy built up the fire the night before. He expected some sort of magic, and he had examined the glow-balls. With that light, though, they could move forward.

This seemed an ordinary enough cave, with an uneven floor, stalactites overhead, and Glen hoped no bats, or at least not too many. As they moved deeper into the dark and found seeds, almost by accident in several cases, it quickly got cold, and they all hugged their cloaks. Sandra had been given one and had wondered why she might need it in the warm fall air she felt in the forest. Now she understood. It got cold underground where neither the sun nor the warm air could penetrate.

After a time of clambering through and over rocks and around corners, and always going further down and deeper in, the floor beneath their feet flattened out and brought them quickly to a large chamber that looked more like the inside of a cathedral than a cave.

“Not good,” Macreedy said. He laid his hand against a stalagmite, which had the appearance more of a column than a natural occurrence. “This is a goblin hall,” he said and he pointed to some carvings on the column.

“Glen.” Sandra scooted yet closer and laid her hand on his wrist. She looked into his eyes and hoped for reassurance.

“Dark elves,” Glen said. “That is an easier word than goblins. They stay underground and work great magic in stone and metal. They are not necessarily the evil goblins of legend.”

Ellean had her bow out and an arrow ready. “But many do like to eat the flesh raw,” she said.

“Big help!” Glen put his arms around Sandra, and she did not mind that at all.

“They are not friends to the elves of the light,” Macreedy agreed with Ellean, though he left his weapons where they were and only fingered the knife at his side.

“I see three ways we can go.” Glen changed the subject.

Macreedy shook himself from his own thoughts and raised his arms. The glow-balls brightened a little, spread out and showed that there were actually five choices. “The problem is two or three of these ways will lead to the warrens—the goblin homes.” He added that last for Glen and Sandra. “Only two or three ways will lead to other places.”

“And which is which?” Ellean finished the thought, and she, Sandra and Macreedy all looked at Glen.

“No, no,” Glen said. He let go of Sandra and stepped back a full step. “I’m no seer. If there is magic in the human world, I have less of it than anyone I know.”

“Someone has to decide,” Sandra said.

“Or you could all just stay here until you starve.” An eerie sort of voice spoke out of the dark. Sandra jumped back into Glen’s arms and Ellean pulled her bow to the ready, though how she knew which direction to point was a mystery since the cavern not only looked like a cathedral, it echoed like one as well.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 4 of 10

A young female head poked in through the tent door. Her face looked more human, being not nearly so skinny, but the ears were still a giveaway. The face looked unsure, though, so Glen felt obliged to speak up.

“No human cooties, I promise,” he said.

“Well.” The elf came in slowly to take a seat beside Macreedy. “As long as you promise.”

“My name is Sandra,” Sandra said. “Daughter of Mona, daughter of Edna, daughter of another woman and another and another who was a daughter of a full blood fairy.”

“Really?” The elf maid found her smile as Sandra nodded and the maid turned to Macreedy. “That may explain how they came to be here,” she said, but Macreedy shook his head.

“Let me see if I can say this the way Master Olerian of the Bean taught the lesson.” He coughed, lowered his voice and affected a very formal tone and look. “The magic is generally well faded by the third generation, and the blood indiscernible by the seventh, though the child is not considered fully human again until the tenth generation.” The elf maid giggled, and Glen decided that this young elf was a simple girl who might have passed for a sixteen or seventeen- year-old human.

“I’m the seventh generation and Melissa is the eighth,” Sandra said, and looked mostly at Glen in case she counted wrong.

“You have a baby?” The elf girl looked surprised. Macreedy still shook his head as if to say that would not explain how they came to be there.

“Ellean.” Glen interrupted and got the elf girl’s attention. He called the girl by name because his inner voice said that was the elf maiden’s name, not because she had given her name. “Just to be clear, how old are you?” Ellean lost her smile. She looked embarrassed by the question. Macreedy spoke for them both.

“I will be one hundred and ten this year,” he said proudly. “Ellean is seventy-three.”

“Only,” Ellean said and she looked down at the fire.

Sandra felt the shame and reached out to the girl. “Women mature faster,” she said.

Ellean did not take Sandra’s hand, but she did look up and smile briefly.

“That’s years,” Glen said, and Sandra looked at him in surprise. She thought something, like maybe a lunar calendar. Macreedy looked about nineteen or twenty and Ellean appeared to be sixteen or so. “Standard counting is roughly seven to one, sort of like dog years except we are the dogs.” Glen concluded, and he pulled himself a bit closer to the fire. After a moment, Sandra also scooted closer in order to close the circle.

“Old Lord Inaros is reported to be fifteen hundred years old,” Macreedy said. “But that is extremely rare, even among elf-kind.” He smiled for Sandra, but Sandra did not pay attention. Ellean kept staring at her.

“What?”

“I was wondering if your real name is Cassandra,” Ellean said.

“Her hair is too blond.” Macreedy interrupted and shook his head.

“There are dyes.” Ellean came back, but this time Sandra shook her head.

“Just Sandra,” she said. “Why?”

The elves paused to look at each other before Macreedy spoke. “Our goddess was once named Cassandra,” he said. “It is not to be spoken of with humans, but I can say this much, that we have many gods and goddesses, but they are all one.”

“I thought maybe…” Ellean began to speak, but Macreedy took her hand to quiet her.

“So, we still do not know how you came to be here,” Macreedy said. “Even if Miss Sandra managed the passage by some virtue in her blood, it does not explain the presence of this man.”

Glen reached for Sandra’s hand and she readily gave it, and her smile, too. “We are thinking of doing a lot of things together,” he said, and Sandra’s smile broadened. “How about you two?”

Macreedy shifted in his seat and looked uncomfortable as he glanced at Ellean and dropped the girl’s hand. Ellean had no trouble matching Sandra’s smile. “We have talked,” she told Sandra, and she held out her hand again, but Macreedy did not take it.

“But about how you got here,” Macreedy spoke hastily to try to get back on the topic. He got interrupted by a new voice from the door.

“How they came to be here is less important than why,” the voice said. An elderly elf came in, followed by the commander of the troop that picked up Sandra and Glen. “I am Alderon and this is Commander Peregrine.”

“The Falcon.” Glen gave a sloppy salute. “But let me ask, why are you here?” Glen spoke quickly, and the old elf raised an eyebrow so Glen continued. “You have brought an army into the wilderness. I hope we have not fallen into the midst of a war.” Sandra suddenly looked concerned. She had not thought of that.

“No fear,” Alderon said. “Wars in our realm are rare events these days. Rather, we had a report of a demon djin crossing close to the border. We sought to destroy it, if we could, or at least keep it from our homes.”

“A ghoul?” Glen asked.

Alderon shook his old head. “Our observers did not see it well enough to classify it, except to say it is one of the lesser djin.”

“But a terror all the same,” Glen thought out loud and turned toward Sandra. “They can possess people and feed off the fear and pain they cause in tormenting their victims.”

“And how do you know the ways of the djin?” Macreedy asked.

“Behavioral Sciences,” Glen answered. “I have studied my Anthropology and my folklore, unless we humans have it all wrong.” Glen looked up at Alderon who smiled, just barely.

“Essentially right,” Alderon confirmed. “But now you must answer a question. Why have you come here?”

“My daughter and mother disappeared.” Sandra spoke quickly. “We were following their trail and found ourselves here. I don’t know how. None of this makes any sense, but now I fear we have lost the trail.” Glen felt the surge of emotion rise-up inside Sandra and watched as a few tears began to fall. He quickly put his arms around her and reassured her.

“We will find them. Hush. It will be all right.” He stroked her hair, gently, and she quieted. “We were following the seeds, but I don’t know if we can pick up that trail again without going back and getting tangled up with the ogre.”

Alderon waved and Commander Peregrine held out his hand. “Were they pumpkin seeds like this?” Alderon asked.

Sandra jumped up and took the elf’s hand, not thinking twice about it. The hand was full of pumpkin seeds. “Yes,” she shouted. “But where did you find them?”

“In this place,” Commander Peregrine responded. “My command was charged with following them to see where they lead, and they brought us to you.”

“So, wait.” Glen said. “You’re saying if we followed the pumpkin seed trail from the beginning, it would have brought us to this place?”

Alderon nodded, and Sandra turned. “Oh, Glen, we haven’t lost them.” She just had to fall into Glen’s arms and kiss him smack on the lips, and she kissed his cheek as well before she grabbed his arm and turned to sit beside him and pull herself together.

At the mention of Glen’s name, Commander Peregrine looked surprised, Macreedy had one eyebrow up, Ellean stayed too busy watching Sandra and thinking her own thoughts to notice, but Alderon smiled that almost invisible smile of his. “But where does the trail go from here?” Glen asked.

“Ahh…” Alderon said as he stepped up behind Macreedy and Ellean. “There are a small number of seeds heading into the caves of Cormac. We have chosen not to explore that way since it leads away from our homes.”

“The caves of Cormac?” Macreedy did not think much of those caves and Ellean looked positively frightened.

“What’s a Cormac?” Sandra drew herself as close to Glen’s side as she could get.

“An ever-hungry troll,” Macreedy said.

“And the caves are full of goblins as well, no doubt trying not to be eaten,” Commander Peregrine added.

Alderon simply looked at Glen and would not let go of that smile that touched the mere corners of his lips. “Somehow, though, I have a good feeling about your chances,” he said. “And since young Macreedy and young Ellean have agreed to see to your welfare, I know you will do well.”

“What?” Macreedy looked up sharply at his elder and tried to stand, but Alderon put a hand on the elf’s shoulder to keep him seated. Then he clapped his hands and stepped aside while two elf maids came and went, quickly. The first had two more blankets and the second carried four little packs, provisions for the expected journey.

“You planned this.” Macreedy accused his elders as Commander Peregrine set down his handful of pumpkin seeds and followed the maids out the tent door.

“Yes.” Alderon finally let out a bit more of that smile. He held up his hand and twisted it, like one might twist a dimmer switch, and the light in the glow-balls dimmed to night-lights. “Sleep well,” he said, and left.

Macreedy did not look entirely happy, but Ellean set about immediately showing their companions what they could do with the Fairy Weave blankets, changing the color, size, thickness and texture, and all with a thought.

“I don’t know why it is called Fairy Weave, though, since it is made by elves. These were made by the elves of the grove,” Macreedy said. Glen just nodded and he got the idea easily enough and made something like an air mattress with covers to sleep on. Sandra had a little more trouble with hers so Ellean helped; but by then with the thoughts and worries about the caves of Cormac getting in the way, Ellean became the only one still smiling.

“This will be so much fun,” she said. “I just know I can learn so much from you.”

Sandra stared at the elf maid in disbelief. “You’re seventy-three years old and I’m just twenty-three. How are you going to learn anything from me?”

Ellean cocked her head to the side and spoke in all seriousness. “You have a baby.” She stole a glance at Macreedy.

“But I haven’t got a husband,” Sandra said, and Ellean looked at her again with eyes that were big and brown and suddenly sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, actually he was a jerk. Melissa and I are better off without him.”

“Well.” Ellean did not know what to say until she looked over at Glen. “Glen seems very nice, what do you think?”

Sandra just looked, and since Macreedy and Glen heard everything in that small tent, they also looked. Sandra appeared to be more concerned to find out if Glen thought she was nice, and while Glen did not feel ready to answer that question, he did feel that he ought to say something.

“I think we all ought to try and get some sleep.” He got under his covers and turned his back on them all. Macreedy finished dousing the glow-balls so only the dying embers from the fire provided the light in the tent.

It did not take long before Glen relaxed. He felt certain that everyone else in the tent had fallen asleep by then. He felt a little surprised when Sandra crawled under his covers to curl up beside him. He felt more surprised when the other two spoke.

“I wish I had thought of that,” Ellean said.

“Go to sleep,” Macreedy responded.

Avalon Prequel Invasion of Memories Pumpkin Seeds part 3 of 10

“I missed the last ones, but I got you.” A booming deep, unearthly voice spoke over Glen’s shoulder; the kind of voice that gave him chills, and even penetrated Sandra’s screams. Glen got to his feet, dragged Sandra to her feet with him, and backed the two of them away from that voice. The creature stood nine feet tall and was so horrible to look at, Glen’s stomach nearly let go, and Sandra could not stop screaming. Glen had to turn Sandra’s shivering face into his shoulder where she did not have to look at the thing to get her quiet. This brute, and the word ogre came to Glen’s mind, looked covered in warts that sprouted little hairs that looked more like cactus spikes than hairs. He had several boils on the surface of his skin, if it could be called skin, and a few of those were open sores that leaked a pink and yellow puss. It had a mouth so full of yellow teeth; Glen could not see the back of that maw or count the teeth if he wanted to, not the least because of the green drool that leaked out over the edge of the lower lip. The creature also had a small spark in the eyes that glared at them, as if to say that this creature was alive and aware; but to be sure, it seemed a very small spark.

“I am going to have you for an afternoon snack,” the ogre roared, and he hefted a club the size of a small tree.

Glen heard the words “don’t panic” in his mind as his mouth sprang into action, though hardly aware of what he said until he said it. “Well, if you are going to have us for tea, make sure there are plenty of biscuits, and by all means keep the kippers to yourself. Those things are almost as slimy and disgusting as you are. Gods you are an ugly beastie.”

The ogre paused and lifted his head. “Do you think so?” He spoke with some doubt in his voice.

“Oh, yes,” Glen assured him. “Very ugly. Frighteningly ugly. You heard the woman screaming, didn’t you? Now, let’s get on to tea, you lead the way.”

“Huh?” The ogre paused while Glen’s words caught up with his little brain, and he guffawed. “Have you for a snack.” He guffawed again, and that is not a sound you ever want to hear. Glen had to swallow the bile to keep it from coming out and Sandra had to bite her lower lip, hard, to keep the screams at bay. “Say, now.” The ogre stopped laughing and a terrifying looked crossed his face. “Hold still.” He lifted the club.

Glen’s eyes got wide, but he looked a little to the ogre’s left side. He pointed dramatically in that direction and yelled, “Look!” The ogre turned to look.

“What?” The ogre wondered, but by the time he turned again, Glen had grabbed Sandra’s hand and they were running as fast as they could down the path. “Hey!” They heard the yell behind them, and heard the tromp, tromp of giant footsteps, following. Glen wanted to say run faster, but he was fairly-sure they could not run faster. Sandra did not want to say anything. She focused too hard on her feet. With all that, it sounded like the ogre started gaining on them, but shortly they ran into something, or rather, another thing they hardly expected. A wall of men, all dressed in dark armor, stood in their path. The men looked like ancient soldiers, and they all had spears pointed in their direction. Glen prepared to stop, but at the last minute, the men made an opening in the wall and Glen and Sandra raced through. The opening quickly closed. Glen heard the twang of bowstrings, and while Sandra collapsed to the ground, Glen found enough strength left to jump up and holler. “Don’t hurt him.”

A second volley of arrows followed, though the ogre stopped on the first volley. Most of the arrows landed in front of the ogre as a warning for him to turn around and go back where he came from, but one of the arrows went straight into the ogre’s shoulder. The ogre looked more surprised than anything else, and while the arrow did not penetrate deeply, when it fell to the ground some blood fell. Glen knew someone did not follow orders. This time he really shouted. “I said don’t hurt him!”

The archers were off to the sides of the wall of spears, hidden in trees and behind rocks. As Glen shouted, he heard a man moan and someone, or something, sounded like it fell to the ground. Glen could not be concerned about that just then. Instead, all his concern focused on the ogre who he now felt was like a poor child in need of protection. If he had thought about it, it should have been strange to think that way about a brute that just tried to eat him, but Glen did not think. He got too busy pressing up to the back of the wall of spear-men and shouting at the horrifying beast. “Prickles, go home,” he yelled. “Go home, Prickles. You need to go home right now.” He told himself that he did not want to see anyone get hurt, and it was not hard to convince himself of that.

“Go home?” Prickles the ogre tried to figure out what he heard.

“Go home.” A man stepped up beside Glen, and while Glen did not look at the man, he figured the man was probably the commander of this troop of soldiers.

“Go home, Prickles,” Glen repeated, and the ogre nodded.

“Go home,” the ogre said. “Go home.” He turned, walked back the way he came, and his long legs took him quickly out of sight.

Then Glen breathed for all of a second before two of the spear carrying men grabbed him by the arms. “Bring them.” The man who had been standing beside Glen commanded, and they moved to where Sandra also got held against her will. Glen and Sandra were directed to fall in line, and the guards gave them no choice.

“This is getting too weird.” Sandra finally got a word out. She pointed at the men’s faces and Glen realized, for the first time, that all of the ears looked classically pointed, and these were not men at all.

“Elves,” Glen named them and Sandra shrugged as if to say that she had adjusted, that she was not surprised, and maybe she would never be surprised again.

“And the beast?”

“Ogre,” Glen said, but then they had to concentrate on the walk because they were moving up into the hills.

It took several hours to reach a camp where Glen guessed there were perhaps a hundred or more elves, all dressed for war. The sun slipped down in the sky when Glen and Sandra got escorted to a tent. They were left alone, but Glen felt sure there were guards near enough.

Sandra sat quietly and hugged her knees, which she pulled up to her chin. She seemed to be in her own little world. Glen paced and tried to make sense of what happened. It felt weird, as Sandra said. Elves and ogres were unreal, impossible, and no human being would ever believe such a tale. Glen felt stupid, like he was in the midst of something out of a children’s story, or an old wives’ tale, or a folktale where some anthropologist would point out the underlying meaning but would never believe that it might be real. Elves and ogres did not really exist. Glen told himself that several times, but here he was and here they were. He had long since rejected the idea that this might be a dream. “That would have made this B-movie extra bad,” he mumbled. Sandra took Glen’s mumble as an opening to speak.

“My grandmother.” She paused and shook her head before she started again. Glen sat down beside her, not touching, but close enough. “My grandmother used to talk about her grandmother like she was, I don’t know, strange. She said her grandmother had the magic. That is what she called it. She said her mother had some, but not like her grandmother, while she could hardly do anything at all.”

“When was your grandmother born?” Glen felt curious, but not sure why he asked that particular question. Someone, whoever it might be, seemed to be giving him thoughts. It felt like someone had gotten inside his head. Glen probably should have been frightened by the invasion of his mind, but there were two mitigating feelings. First, he felt that the someone, whoever it was, felt so comfortable. Glen could not imagine any harm coming from that direction. Second, there were far more frightening things happening all around him on the outside, he hardly had time to worry about what might be trying to help him on the inside.

“1908,” Sandra said. “She would have been seventy this year if she was still alive.” Glen nodded. It was presently 1978. After a pause, Sandra added the word, “Cancer.”

“And her grandmother?”

“I don’t know.”

“Say, 1870?”

Sandra shrugged. “Grandma said her great-grandmother was a half-blood. I remember asking once half-blood what? I got the strangest answer.” Sandra looked like she did not want to say it, but as an elf chose that moment to enter the tent with a tray of food; Sandra found the courage to verbalize what had always seemed loony. “Fairy.” She said. “My great-great, whatever-grandmother was a half-fairy.”

Glen nodded. “1849 gold rush,” he said as the elf put down the food and turned to leave. “Wait a minute.” Glen spoke up, and the elf paused. “What are you going to do with us?”

The elf turned and shrugged. He looked skinny, terminally skinny, the way certain elves were and his ears were very pronounced and pointed but they matched his pointed nose. “Nothing that I know of.” At least his voice sounded normal.

The elf decided to sit and as he crossed his long legs, he leaned forward to place a hand over the fire. It rose-up with new life. Given the circumstances, neither Sandra nor Glen were surprised by that bit of magic. Sandra scooted a bit closer to the fire for the warmth. Glen decided to take a good look around.

The fire burned in the middle of the tent floor with a small hole in the tent roof straight above it. Curiously, the smoke from the fire went straight up and out the hole without the least bit of it filtering into the rest of the tent. Neat trick, Glen thought. He noticed that most of the light in the tent did not come from the fire, but from several globes near the tent roof. Glow-balls, he called them, and he imagined they were like fairy lights. Of course, they were not plugged into anything, and they were not battery run, so he was at a loss as to what powered them. But they glowed just fine and the light felt warm and comfortable.

Their night in that tent did not look frightening, but then it did not look all that comfortable if they chose to sleep. There were only two blankets rolled up on the dirt floor, but Glen did not get to examine them closely because by then Sandra found the courage to ask a question.

“Do you have a name?”

“Macreedy, son of Macreedy, son of Macreedy, son of Macreedy.” The elf said. “My sire had many daughters, but only one son of Macreedy.” He smiled and cocked his head back to look toward the tent door and said, “You might as well come in, too. These people do not appear dangerous and I don’t believe they rub off.”

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

MONDAY

Glen and Sandra have entered a strange world but are determined to find Sandra’s baby no matter how strange it gets. Until Monday, Happy Reading

*

Avalon 1.12 The Name of the Game part 1 of 4

After 4026 BC near modern day Moscow. Kairos 19: Wlvn, god of the horses

Recording

Lockhart, Lincoln, Captain Decker, Alexis, and Katie all collapsed after passing through the gate. It only turned noon, but they were not going any further that day, and maybe the next as well. Mingus and Boston set up the camp and got the fire started while Roland went out to hunt and gather what he could. That evening over the fire, the five were still caught up in exhaustion. They ate, not so frantically now, and spoke in quiet whispers.

“When I fantasized about dancing naked under the moon, I imagined something a bit more romantic,” Alexis said, as she snuggled up to Lincoln’s side.

“I never imagined such a thing,” Lincoln admitted. “Now even less.”

“I feel like I lost ten pounds,” Katie said. She was young and in marine shape, so she hardly had ten pounds to lose. “Not the way I imagined going on a diet.”

Alexis nodded. “The dance and starvation diet. Not recommended for anyone over thirty.” Captain Decker chose that moment to snore.

“What about you, Lockhart. You are very quiet.”

Lockhart shook his head. “Just tired.” He looked at Roland who sat close to Boston. They were not holding hands, but they should have been. “You saw signs of no one,” he repeated an earlier question. Roland had reported when he returned from the hunt, but he did not mind repeating himself as well.

“No one,” he said. “At least not recent. People certainly passed through this valley at some point, but the fire remains appear very old—perhaps fifty years or more.”

“I imagine the earth population is still rather thin after Shinar,” Katie said. “That was only five hundred years ago.”

“Not even,” Lincoln spoke up.

“Not even,” Katie nodded. “Why?” She directed that at Lockhart.

Lockhart took a moment to look around, though he really could not see much in the dark beyond the firelight. “Nothing,” he said, though clearly it was not nothing.

“Never fear,” Mingus interrupted. “My son and I will watch in the night, all night. Elves can handle a night without sleep better than humans. Besides, you went three days and two nights without any rest. You need to recover, or we won’t get very far.” Lockhart nodded his agreement and thanks for the offer. Roland objected.

“Father.”

“Besides,” Mingus finished his thought with a hard look at his son. “Roland and I have some talking to do.”

Alexis stole a glance at Boston, smiled, and settled down beside her husband.

No one and nothing bothered them in the night. The moon did not come up right for the wolf. They saw no orange clad Neanderthals sneaking around. And probably because two elves working together could be a problem, the ghoul scout, if out there, and the bokarus, if still following them despite Faya’s bargain, did not show themselves. That did not mean the night was absent of fireworks. By morning, Roland had stopped talking to his father, which was fine because Mingus had stopped talking to his son, too.

“We have to move, today.” Lockhart decided. There were several groans, but he knew, as did Captain Decker, that another day of just rest could be psychologically damaging. They had a long way to go to get back to the twenty-first century and they did not need people dragging their feet.

“Besides,” Captain Decker added. “People are always capable of more than they think they are.”

They walked slowly in the morning over rolling plains, pastureland, and through occasional bits of trees. Everyone thickened their fairy weave clothes, and Lincoln made the only substantial comment in the group.

“It says European Russia, but it feels like late fall in New England.”

Other than that, the only conversation were the whispers between Boston and Roland, and everyone assumed that was private. The others felt too busy to talk, conserving their strength for the walk, except Mingus who steamed about something. They all guessed it was Roland and Boston.

Lunch was also a quiet affair. People were still recovering and gathering their strength, but all thought the walk did them good. Roland and Boston sat apart from the others and continued to talk softly, and it looked to be getting serious.

“So, you finished school in record time,” Roland said. It came out something like a question.

“I don’t know about record time,” Boston responded. “I went to college when I was sixteen, after my junior year in high school, but I am not the only person who has ever done that.” Boston looked down at her legs. They were sitting on a bolder where she could let her legs dangle off a flat edge that dropped three feet to the ground. “I finished college in three years  which is not unusual either. Then I got into a program where I could do both my masters and PhD classes in another three years. It was set up that way. True, most people take four since they take a year to write their Master Thesis between the first and second year of classes. I wrote mine over the summer. Actually, most people take six years since it is two years after the last classes to do a dissertation. I did that in one year so I really took four to go through that program.” Boston suddenly stopped talking. She had started babbling, and about herself. She never did that.

“And you never got involved with any boys during all that time?”

“Boys? I had—have some friends, sure. I went out a few times, but who had time for that? I was too busy studying my little brains off.”

“If you had your PhD by the time you were twenty-three, I would say your brains are not so little.”

“Twenty-four,” Boston said, honestly. “I guess I am a smarty-pants.” She slapped her palms against her thighs and Roland followed her hands with his eyes. Boston watched him and her eyes got big when he smiled. She slipped off the rock. “I think I better go,” she said, and sought the security of the other women. The kind of thoughts she started having scared her, and at the moment, it felt doubly bad since Roland obviously started having the same sorts of thoughts.

“Hi, Alexis,” Boston said.

“Sit down,” Alexis said. “We need to talk.” She made Lincoln go over and sit by Lockhart and the marines, all of whom snickered. Lincoln just shrugged and pulled out the database.

“I think you and I can be good friends.”

Boston’s eyes got big. “Oh, I don’t know. I am totally conservative and you are totally liberal. I don’t think we could agree on anything.”

“What are you feeling?” Alexis asked.

“Scared,” Boston admitted.

“It is totally scary, and wonderful at the same time,” Alexis agreed.

“But…” Boston was not sure what to say. She looked at Roland and thought of nothing bad, only, “he can be such a doofus.”

Alexis also looked at Roland and then back at Boston. “He’s my brother. It wouldn’t be fair for me to comment. But look at what I married.” She nodded in Lincoln’s direction. Boston looked briefly and had a question.

“What is wrong with us?”

~~~*~~~

They stopped a couple of hours early, but the point was made for them all. They would move in the morning and get back to the routine of regular days soon enough. It looked like a good site, being in a sheltered hollow with trees on two sides. The wind had picked up and it had turned chilly. The boulders made a good windbreak.

“And plenty of fuel for the fire,” Mingus said, about the first thing he said all day.

“So we stop,” Lockhart agreed, and he just got his backpack off when they had an unexpected visitor. A woman appeared out of nowhere. No one doubted she was a goddess, though she had her divine nature toned down sufficiently, so no one felt obliged to drop to their knees. What is more, she held a young girl in her arms and had two young boys of maybe nine and eleven years in tow, and the children all looked human enough.

“You can’t stop yet,” she said. “My son has something to give you.” She raised a hand and everyone vanished from that spot.

Avalon 1.5 Little Packages part 3 of 4

“Lockhart! Boston!” Dallah groaned as she got to her feet and waved.

“Mother?” Mya spoke.

“These are the ones I told you might come one day.”

“I had forgotten.” Reneus said, as the travelers came to the water. Dallah had to hug Boston and Alexis, in her wet clothes.

“It is so good to see you. I am so glad you are here.”

“Where can we set down Doctor Procter?” Lockhart asked. He looked exhausted. He and Mingus were taking a turn and the elder elf, in particular, looked unable to go much further.

“Of course.” Dallah stepped close to the half-breed but knew better than to touch him. “How long has he been like this?” she asked.

“This is the second day,” Captain Decker said. He shouldered his rifle and took Mingus’ place.

“Well, come. We must get him to the camp.”

“Mother.” Andor got her attention. “Your imps went ahead of us.”

“Oh dear.” She hurried and everyone hurried to follow. Fortunately, the imps just arrived since they stopped first for an argument.

“We are free now,” Crusty said.

“We’re supposed to go see Lord Varuna,” Dwizzle said.

“Wait a minute!” Itchy bought none of it. “Since when does a thicky bean tell us what to do, especially when our orders come from the king of the gods himself?”

“But I feel free,” Crusty said. “I don’t feel like doing the work of Dayus anymore.”

Dwizzle nodded, but Itchy responded. “That don’t mean anything. Crusty, you don’t ever feel like doing any work.” Dwizzle laughed.

“I’m thinking we could ask Lord Varuna when we find him. He always tells the truth.” Itchy hit him. “Ooowww.”

“You don’t do the thinking, you’ll only hurt yourself worse than before.” Dwizzle put his hand back in his mouth and pouted.

“I think that is a good idea,” Crusty said. Itchy stomped on his foot. “Ooowww.”

“Right now, we got to find Stonecrusher some meat before we become meat.” They could agree on that. With their glamours on, they came right up to the edge of the camp, which was not much to speak of, the huts being barely more than lean-tos with skins on the open side. They were snuggled between some stick trees, and there were only five of them altogether. There could not have been more than twenty people in that camp and barely more than twenty sheep as well.

The sheep were presently in a pen where Dallah’s husband, Godus, and two men had separated the sacrifice from the others. When they were done, the groom had two younger brothers who drove the rest to the stream.

“Not much selection,” Crusty said. The sheep were all scrawny, stunted, and underfed.

“Yeah, but it will do,” Itchy responded.

“Hey, look. Sweets.” Dwizzle pointed to a table by the altar. It sat full of dried fruits and cooked roots and tubers of various kinds.

“Oh, boy!” Crusty shouted, and before Itchy could stop them, they were on the table, they had let their glamours drop, and people screamed, some ran away, and some did not seem sure what to do.

“Hold it right there!” Dallah shouted between breaths. The imps froze in place because Dallah had that in mind. “This is my daughter’s wedding, and you will not mess it up.” She yelled a little, but mostly walked more slowly to the table so she could regain her breath. When she arrived to stare at the imps, she pushed an escaped gray hair back toward the bun on her head before she spoke. “Your hands, empty.” Dwizzle and Crusty put out their hands and she slapped them. The imps made no sound, but both squinted from the sharp, if temporary pain. “Itchy.”

The imp had his hands behind his back. “No.” He shook his head for emphasis.

“You should have been named stubborn,” Dallah said. “Your hand.” She did not ask and Itchy whipped out his hands, empty despite what his mind told him and despite his better judgment. She slapped them both, and Itchy had a hard time putting both in his mouth at once.

“Hey! How do you know our names?” Crusty asked, like the truth of that suddenly caught up to him.

“I know all about you,” Dallah said. “More than I would like to know. Now get off the table and behave, I have to see to my daughter.” Korah was already running into her mother’s arms. She cried, but Dallah brushed Korah’s hair with her hand and said, “Hush, everything will be all right.”

“Mother.” Andor tried to get her attention as Godus came up from the sheep pen.

“Who are you?” Itchy finally removed his hands to ask, and then decided to take turns soaking one hand at a time.

“She is your goddess,” Boston said. “Or she will be one day.” She knew she should not say it because it came out of time context, but she could not help herself.

“What? Don’t we have enough gods and goddesses already?”

“No, no.” Alexis spoke to clarify. Apparently, she could not help herself either. “She will not be another goddess of humans that you have to work for. She will be your goddess; goddess of all the little spirits of the earth.”

“There is no such thing.” Itchy understood.

“There will be,” Alexis responded with a smile toward her brother who frowned. The law said they were not supposed to reveal the future like that.

“Mother.” Andor tried again. Reneus, Lockhart and some of the others looked where Andor looked, but hardly knew what to say.

“But she is old and will die soon,” Crusty protested.

“But she will be reborn,” Mingus stepped up. “And sometimes she will be a god and sometimes a goddess for us all.” He turned to Itchy. “Whether we like it or not.”

“Mother.”

“But lady…” Dwizzle tugged on Dallah’s dress and pointed. “Stonecrusher is hungry.

The ogre came down the path from the stream. He appeared hard to look at because he was so ugly; but not simply a disgusting ugly. He looked mean, mad, and hungry, and now the people had something they could really scream about.

“I’m gonna eat me some people,” Stonecrusher said.

“I’m gonna eat some people,” the ogre said it again, like he was trying to make it into a song. Dallah felt sure no one wanted to hear the ogre sing so she shouted.

“Save your bullets!” Dallah said that before anything else, and Captain Decker and Lieutenant Harper lowered their weapons, if reluctantly. The marines were surprised to see Lockhart, Lincoln, Alexis, and Boston all grinning. Mingus had his hands over his eyes as if he did not want to watch. Roland looked at Boston to be sure she was not too frightened. Besides, it felt too hard to look at the ogre, even for him.

“Your bullets might penetrate and maybe a shotgun slug at close range,” Mingus said. “But most would just bounce off his rock-hard skin and make him mad.”

“Rock-hard head, you mean,” Itchy added.

“That too, I am sure,” Mingus admitted.

Dallah placed Korah in her father’s arms and stepped toward the oncoming terror. Hold it right there!” She had to shout to be heard above the screams, though she knew her little one would hear her no matter what. “Stop walking. Feet, stand still.”

“I’m gonna eat some people,” the ogre repeated himself before he shouted back. “Hey! What happened to my feet?” It was fortunate the commands of the Kairos did not have to be processed through the brain before becoming effective.

 “Sit down.” Dallah said, and to the dismay of many of the people, not the least her family, Dallah walked straight toward the thing. As the ogre sat, he asked his question again.

“But what happened to my feet?” Stonecrusher paused while Dallah walked the distance and then the ogre asked a second question. “Why am I sitting?”

“What am I going to do with you?” Dallah asked a rhetorical question in return as she neared. The ogre reached for her. People gasped, but Dallah merely slapped the ogre hand like she had slapped the imp hands. The ogre snatched his hand back and looked at it.

“I thought you said the skin was rock hard.” Lieutenant Harper spoke.

“It is,” Roland answered. “But the Kairos is not hampered by any of it.”

Then the pain got processed and the ogre imitated his little cousins. “Ooowww,” he said in a very loud voice, and he slipped its hand into its mouth.

“Quiet and keep your hands to yourself.” Dallah thought as hard as she could but saw no alternative. “Godus.” She shouted back to the people who had fallen into a hushed silence to watch this spectacle. “We have to give it one of our sheep.”

“We’ve not but seven left,” Godus responded. Being the spouse of the Kairos had its privileges as far as the little ones were concerned. Her family certainly adjusted to the imps fast enough in the stream.

“Well, we will have to have six. You can pick the least of the lot that is left, but we have to feed it something. The poor thing is starving.”

“Somehow, I never imagined an ogre being called a poor thing,” Lincoln said quietly, and Alexis went to take his arm.

Godus handed Korah to her older brother, Reneus, but she already semed fine, had stopped crying, and stared with the rest of them.

Crusty sighed. “I was afraid if she was still mad at us she might feed us to the ogre.” Dwizzle nodded.

“And she could make us walk right into that big mouth without another thought,” Itchy added.

“She would never do that.” Mingus lowered his hands. “Don’t you know how much she loves you?” A small tear came to his eye, and also to Dwizzle’s eye.

“But she is old and will die soon.” Crusty said it again.

“That’s okay,” Itchy decided. “I could live with a god that dies now and then. Then she gets to be a baby again?” Mingus nodded. “So, we get a season of peace when she is young and growing up,” Itchy concluded.

“Or he,” Mingus said.

“That must be weird,” Itchy said.

“Not if you are born that way,” Mingus said.

“Oh yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.”

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

Don’t forget tomorrow (Thursday) will finish the episode, so…

*

Avalon 1.5 Little Packages part 1 of 4

After 4364 BC on the Plains of Thera. Kairos 12: Dallah

Recording

“Another one.” Alexis pointed. Lieutenant Harper trained her rifle in the general direction, but it was hard to pinpoint, whatever it was, since it kept going invisible. They were the color of the sand, the main part of the landscape. The rest of the scenery was not much to look at. The trees, what there were of them, seemed just sticks, short, stunted, and dry, like they baked too long in the oven. The clumps of grass that stubbornly refused to give up looked burnt yellow and brown. The sun felt relentless.

A dog howled in the distance, but Alexis shook her head. “They aren’t dogs,” she said. “What we are seeing,” she clarified.

“A mirage in this heat?” Lincoln wiped the sweat from Alexis’ brow. The sun itself appeared to be sweating from its own heat.

“Not a mirage,” Lockhart answered. “With mirages you see things. All we are seeing is occasional movement and glimpses of figures that vanish in the heat.”

“And not enough of glimpses to make out shape and size,” Roland added.

Lockhart and Captain Decker set down the stretcher. Doctor Procter kept mumbling that he would be all right, but Alexis was not so sure. Lincoln needed to take a turn carrying the stretcher, and Roland, though it would be his second turn. Mingus said he would be there to help if needed.

Poor Doctor Procter stayed delirious most of the time. The only time he came awake was when someone reached for him. Then his words sounded clear and sharp. “Don’t touch me.” And they got spoken with such vehemence, no one dared to disobey.

“At least it is not the bokarus,” Boston pointed out. “There is only one bokarus.”

“This is no terrain for a bokarus,” Mingus assured them.

“Or ghouls,” Alexis said. “If they sent out a second group after the first stopped reporting, they would not be nearly this far along yet.”

“Whatever it is, it is a wild one.” Roland suggested, as he sipped some water. Lockhart had already started watching their water supply, carefully. No telling how long it might be in that environment before they found more water. Captain Decker also seemed to have gotten the idea, but neither said a word.

“Wild ones, I think.” Mingus responded. He gave them the impression that he might be seeing a bit more than the others, but he did not let on yet about what he was seeing or thinking.

Alexis bent down toward Doctor Procter. The man sat straight up. “Don’t!” Alexis paused.

“It is just some water.”

Doctor Procter reached for the cup, carefully, to not touch the woman. He drank greedily and when he handed the empty cup back so she could take it by the handle, he added a word. “Don’t let anyone else drink from that cup.” His words were stern as he began to shake his head. He closed his eyes, fell back, and mumbled “no, no, no.”

~~~*~~~

Dallah walked out from the camp. She needed some alone time. Her daughter, Korah would be married in the afternoon and in her world, the mother-in-law made all the arrangements, not the mother. She supposed that was only right since Korah would go and live with her husband and his family. The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law needed to form a relationship to carry them through the rest of their lives—hopefully a good one. To be sure, she had a wonderful time when Mya married her son, Reneus. Still, she had to think about it.

Dallah had too many cultures in her head. She imagined it might be best if she did not think about it at all, but lately she could not seem to help it. She turned forty-three or forty-four years old. She was not sure, but at her age, and given her life circumstances, there seemed little for her to do but sit and think.

Godus, her husband, stayed away for days at a time. He always came home with food for the fire, but the absences were hard. Her nine-year-old, Andor, the love of her old age kept the sheep, what remained of them. Her son, Reneus, stubbornly tried to bring grain out of the soil. Mya had taken over most of the cooking and cleaning duties for the family, and Dallah had no complaints, but it gave her too much time to think and worry.

Somehow, she made an enemy of the sun god Dayus when she was a child. She could not imagine anything she said or did. Dayus simply did not want her to be born in his world. His advisors warned against killing her outright as a child, but that did not stop him from ruining the world around her, thus killing her slowly. They moved and migrated and moved again to greener pastures, only to find those pastures dry up under the incessant sun. The people swore the rains would come again. They can’t stay away forever. But Dallah knew it was more complicated than that.

She had no doubt Korah would move away with her new family once the marriage was consummated. Dallah would cry but pray for her. Korah would do well away from Dallah and the ruination that surrounded her life. She might even be happy.

Dallah looked up at the sun and squinted. “Is it enough?” she asked. “Are you satisfied?” She knew the sun god was not yet satisfied. After all, she still lived.

“Mother!” Reneus called. He followed her out into the wilderness. She had an empty water skin with her, but she walked, in no hurry to get to the stream. “Mother. You don’t need to be wandering out here alone.”

“Well, there does not seem much for me to do back in the camp,” Dallah said. “I thought I could fetch some water and at least and make myself useful, somehow.”

Reneus took the water skin from her hands. “No need for that,” he said. “Father is looking for you.”

“Is he?” Dallah looked back once, but she only saw Mya chasing after Andor.

“Mama!” Andor ran up to her. “Help me! Help! Mya is going to make me take a bath.”

Mya arrived with a stern look on her face directed at the boy that hid behind Dallah’s dress.

“There is time for that,” Dallah assured her daughter-in-law. “Reneus and I were headed to the stream. Maybe Andor would like to splash in the water while we are there.” She winked at Mya, who understood what Dallah suggested, but had a strong-willed streak that did not like to be disobeyed by a certain nine-year-old boy. Andor knew the dynamics well. He stuck his tongue out at Mya before he took his mother’s hand.

“Why you.”

Dallah put her hand up to stop them both. “I really came out here to be alone for a while. I don’t mind you coming along, but please keep your thoughts to yourselves. And that goes for you, too.” She poked Reneus in the chest. He backed up in innocence to say, “Me?” But he did not actually say anything out loud.

~~~*~~~

Boston stepped back. Something moved ahead, just around the edge of the rock. “Did you see that?” She turned her head and asked. Captain Decker already moved out into the brush to get an angle on it. Roland made his way quietly around the far side of the rock. Lieutenant Harper had her rifle ready, and Alexis had her wand in her hand. Lincoln and Lockhart had already put Doctor Procter on the ground. Mingus responded.

“Yes,” he said and raised his voice. “And they better all come out of hiding if they know what is good for them!”

A face popped up from the ground, not far from Boston’s feet. She might have stepped on it, but instead she jumped back though it hurt her muscles to move like that. He had not been invisible, but perfectly colored to blend in with the desert floor, and he spoke with a sandy rasp in his voice.

“Look, Itchy, it’s human beans.”

A second came from behind the rock. “Yeah, Dwizzle, and they got elves. ‘bout the worst case of elves I’ve ever seen. What do you think, Crusty?”

A third stepped from behind a skinny tree. No one saw him there but could not imagine why. He looked much fatter than the tree. He clicked his tongue a couple of times before he spoke. “Domesticated elves no less.” He clicked his tongue some more.

“Imps.” Mingus identified the creatures with some disgust in his voice.

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

FOUR part episode this week so it will conclude with a post on Thursday.

Dom’t miss it.

*

Avalon 1.3 The Way of Dreams part 3 of 3

In the wee hours of the morning, Lockhart woke up in the nursing home, still sitting in his wheelchair. The nurses had not even bothered to put him to bed. He wiped the bit of drool that fell from his mouth and looked out the window at the night sky. It looked the same as it looked in his dream. He let out one small laugh before he felt like crying. Being young again and adventuring in time was a nice dream, but only a dream.

Lockhart tried to push himself closer to the window, but his old arms were too spindly and frail. He did cry a little because he felt so alone. He lived in Virginia and his children were all in Michigan. They never came to see him in any case. His ex-wife saw to that. She lived in a retirement community in Florida where she spent the last of his money. Even the people from the office never came by, not even Boston. He was alone. He wanted to die.

~~~*~~~

“I didn’t ask to be young again,” Lincoln yelled and did that annoying thing of raising his hands like he was oh, so innocent. “I was happy like we were.”

“I wasn’t,” Alexis responded with that inevitable curl of her lip.

“Okay. I got that impression. But I was comfortable.”

“God knows I wouldn’t want to shake you out of your comfort zone.”

“Alexis.” Lincoln reached out but Alexis pulled away.

“Don’t touch me,” she said. “Right now, I hate you.” She never pulled her punches and never said she was sorry.

“I despise you.” He always had to one-up her.

~~~*~~~

Boston closed the door to the conference room. She got to the heart of the building, but there was no way out for her. The alien virus had gotten loose. It affected the minds of every male on duty and Boston felt scared senseless. She feared they would find her. She heard the door.

“Boston.” The call sounded sweet and sickly.

Boston scooted under the table and heard the men come in. They were all men, she knew, young and old.

“Boston.

She tried to make herself small.

“Here.” One of the young ones got behind her and leaned over to look under the table. She got caught. She tried to run, but they stopped her. They tore her clothes off. She was going to be gang raped. The infected men laughed about it, but she screamed.

~~~*~~~

Captain Decker’s hands were tied behind his back. His ankles were tied together, and he found himself suspended upside-down from one of the towers of the Brooklyn Bridge. Lieutenant Harper slowly started cutting the man’s rope.

“What are you doing?” The panic filled in Decker’s voice. He was not the best with heights, though he went through parachute training when he qualified for Special Forces.

“I can’t help it,” Harper called down to him. “I have no control over my hands.” Her voice sounded just as fearful. She saw him suspended from the edge of a cliff. Every time she cut a strand he dropped a little. She was going to murder the man and she couldn’t stop herself. “Help me, please.” She cried out, but she had no control. Everything ran out of her control except her tears.

Decker screamed at her. “Let me up. I’m going to kill you. Let me up.” He looked down and had to hold onto his stomach and his bladder.

~~~*~~~

Doctor Procter came awake, but he felt groggy. Something tugged at his mind, and for a change, it was not the darkness. He imagined all sorts of frightening scenarios, but they all paled when compared to the darkness so they could find no foothold in his dreams. He squinted.

Mingus and his son sat side by side, staring off into the wilderness. Doctor Procter could not tell from his angle, but he guessed they were frozen in place, seeing nothing. A figure stood beside them. It appeared human shaped, but the Doctor guessed it was not human because it looked dark from head to foot, despite standing squarely in the firelight.

He heard noises behind. Doctor Procter sat up a little and turned his head to look. The humans wailed, cried, shouted nonsense at each other and appeared to be in pain. He checked. He did not care about that. He did not hate the humans, but somehow, he could not bring himself to care about them either. He blamed the darkness. He knew. Soon it would overtake him completely.

He turned again to observe the person hiding in the night. He guessed it was the bogyman. He heard they hid in closets and under beds to work their terrible work. They hid because they had to be solid to work and feed on the trauma. That, of course, made them vulnerable, but as long as the sleepers remained unaware of their presence, they could feast.

Doctor Procter thought about that. He lived, no stranger to fear, but he never felt attracted to it before. He used to fear things like bogies. Now, he felt he understood a little. Fear, hate, and anguish were very powerful emotions and very nourishing in a way. “No.” He whispered that out loud through cracked lips and with a gravelly voice. The bogy ignored him. Things were coming to a head.

Doctor Procter turned his head again to watch. He saw Captain Decker and Lieutenant Harper grab their rifles. Lockhart also grabbed his shotgun. Boston screamed, “Kill me, kill me!” Lincoln and Alexis had each other by the throat. The humans were all going to kill each other, and something of the Doctor rose-up.

“No!” The Doctor shouted. He tore off his glove and extended his blackened hand out toward the bogy. The bogy lost all concentration, and a sound of fear escaped its own lips.

Doctor Procter reached out with his hand. His feet would not move, but the darkness began to move from his hand all on its own. Doctor Procter knew it would not leave him, but the darkness would gladly absorb another if given the chance. He looked at his own arm. The darkness had swallowed his hand and climbed all the way passed his elbow to disappear beneath his sleeve. Doctor Procter did not want to look closer.

The bogyman’s eyes appeared in the dark. They were wide and full of a fear far greater than even the fear it instilled in some humans that drove those humans insane. It might have escaped if it returned to its insubstantial, spiritual nature, but for the moment, it stood frozen by its fear. That was all the time Lockhart needed.

The shotgun blast hit the bogy dead center, and the marines were not far behind. They each shot several bullets into the figure. The man in the dark collapsed while Doctor Procter quickly stuffed his hand back into his glove. Roland shook himself awake at that point and with hardly a thought, he pulled his sword and chopped the bogy head off. Curiously, there was no blood, just the stump of a neck where the head had once been. The head rolled into the rocks. Roland began to hack the limbs apart and Mingus joined him in tossing those limbs out into the bushes below as far apart from each other as possible.

“A bogy can heal and reconstitute,” Mingus said. Lockhart and Captain Decker stepped up to help but Mingus waved them off. “Don’t touch. Bogys are powerful spirits. Being spiritual creatures ourselves offers us some protection. For you humans, though, I’m afraid even a touch might give you nightmares for the rest of your lives.” Given the nightmares already experienced that night, Lockhart and Decker needed no more inducement to back away.

After the deed was done, Mingus and Roland washed themselves with water and dirt in a ritual washing. Then they sat down and while Mingus built up the fire, the others gathered around. No surprise that no one felt like sleeping.

“You see,” Mingus continued his thought. “The bogy man is now broken to pieces and scattered more than far enough away to prevent a rebuilding of the body before sunrise. Once the sun is up, the light will burn away the body remains. Otherwise, if the bogy rebuilt itself, we would have to fight this battle all over again tomorrow night.”

“I see,” Lieutenant Harper said, and once she said that no one felt like talking for a long time. Boston stayed in tears or sniffled most of that time, and she would not let anyone hold her to comfort her. She did not want anyone to touch her. Captain Decker and Lieutenant Harper simply looked at each other and looked away again and again. Lockhart got lost in his own thoughts, and while Lincoln and Alexis sat beside each other, they did not touch or comfort each other or even hold hands, as was their norm. Only Doctor Procter seemed unconcerned with it all, and he began to snore.

When the sun started to rise, the words finally came. It is remarkable how a little sunlight and talking about it can make the shadows of the worst nightmares fade, and these were the worst. They were the kind that clung to the mind even after waking up. Still, it did not take long for everyone to start feeling better, and even Boston cracked a smile. Then they heard the scream, the kind some call blood curdling.

It took a minute to find the head of the bogy. It got trapped between two rocks on the edge of the ledge and the sunlight touched it. The head steamed and screamed, and the eyes opened and looked around. Fortunately, it did not last long as it caught on fire and soon became little more than steam, ash, and dust to be blown away on the wind.

Alexis covered her eyes. She did not want to look. Boston got right up to the edge and stared straight into that face until the end. Then Alexis spoke.

“We have to find a better way of dealing with these things other than shooting them full of holes.”

“You realize, now that you said that, in the next time zone we will probably need the guns more than ever,” Lockhart teased.

Alexis wrinkled her nose in disapproval of Lockhart’s words. She looked at Lincoln, but he seemed busy getting their things together. She felt a brief stab in her heart as she remembered the nightmare once more. Things were not right between them, yet.

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

Monday

Back to our normal 2 weeks per episode. Avalon 1.4 Sticks and Stones will see trouble fall from the sky, and some bones will be broken. Until then, Happy Reading.

*

Avalon 1.2 Beasts in the Night part 2 of 3

“Are you all right?” Lockhart voiced his first concern when he arrived, Captain Decker beside him. The women nodded. “We wait until the light is better before we investigate,” he decided, and Mingus, Roland and Captain Decker saw the wisdom in that.

Back in camp, they made what breakfast they could out of the leftover deer and greens, and Lincoln distracted them all by suggesting they pack the camp and be prepared to move out quickly, just in case. The way he phrased it the others could hardly argue.

The sun had come well up by the time Lockhart, Mingus, Roland, Captain Decker, and Boston made for the faint wisps of smoke that still trailed into the sky. Lieutenant Harper wanted to go with them, but Captain Decker ordered her to stay and defend the camp.

“Yes, sir,” Katie responded, but she did not sound too happy about it.

Boston started out front. She thought for a second that only she could pinpoint the location, but then she saw the smoke, remembered the roar, and slipped back to a safer place between Lockhart and Roland. They had to separate a little when they got to the trees at the bottom of the hill. Boston immediately came across a great, old tree that got torn up by the roots. Lockhart pointed out several smaller, young trees that looked broken and crushed to the ground, like they had been stepped on.

“This is not good,” Mingus said. He examined the trees and bushes that were burnt and singed. Some of the trees still smoked, though none were outright burning.

“Over here,” Roland called.

They found the ghoul sitting with his back to a tree, dying. He bled, Boston guessed, though it looked more like slimy green and purple sauce than blood. The ghoul looked up at them and made a sound that could only have been laughter. Boston felt the hair rise on the back of her neck at that sound.

“This is definitely not good,” Mingus said.

“Your unicorn?” Captain Decker asked, but Boston shook her head. That was no unicorn sound she heard in the night.

The ghoul looked up at the captain and laughed at the word unicorn. The captain responded by shooting the ghoul. It deflated and compressed and left a green smudge on the dirt while the captain spoke.

“Mercy killing.”

“We might have gotten some information.” Lockhart scolded the man. Mingus mitigated.

“No, we wouldn’t.”

They started back up the hill to the camp when another roar could be heard in the distance. Fortunately, it seemed some distance away.

“I hope that’s a dragon,” Roland spoke softly, and Boston looked at the man, believing he must be crazy.

“A dragon spirit would be better,” Mingus heard his son with his good elf ears and responded.

“And if it is not?” Lockhart asked.

“Definitely not good.” Mingus said it again.

~~~*~~~

The travelers arrived at what looked to them like the first real village they had seen. Instead of tents, they found makeshift dwellings built of bamboo and grasses. They looked crude, to be sure, and easily taken down, but solid enough. They were also easily burned from the look of some of them.

“Strangers. Strangers!” One man saw them, yelled in panic, and ran off. A few women screamed and ran into their huts. Lockhart halted their progress somewhere near the middle of the village, a village deserted by the time they stopped.

“Nothing like a first-class welcome,” he said.

“Why are they afraid of us?” Boston wondered out loud.

“They are certainly afraid of something,” Roland added.

“Some people are just afraid of anything they don’t understand,” Lincoln suggested, and Lieutenant Harper stepped up to agree, but Mingus spoke first.

“No, they are just rabbits. Scared rabbits. So, son-in-law, welcome home.”

“Father!” Alexis objected, but Lincoln just ignored the elf.

Six elderly men appeared at the end of the row of houses. They did not look too brave. They came forward in a group where they might not have come by themselves. The eldest spoke when they were near. “Are you of the goddess or of the beast?”

“Neither.” Lockhart spoke plainly enough. “We are travelers and seek only shelter for the night. We will move on tomorrow.”

The men turned to each other and began a whispered argument.

“Tell me about the goddess,” Lieutenant Harper butted in, and the men paused so the eldest could speak again.

“Nagi-di is the goddess of our village. Some say she has sent the beast because she is angry with us. Others say a jealous, rival god sent the beast. We have prayed every day and made offerings to the goddess for her help, but we do not know if she has abandoned us. Please, are you the help, or have you come to kill all that the beast has not destroyed?”

“We are here to help,” Alexis spoke up, and Lockhart turned on her.

“What is it with you and Boston? You are not permitted to offer bread or help or anything else that commits this group in any way without asking permission. Is that clear?” He was not happy.

 Alexis dropped her eyes but said nothing as Mingus stepped forward with a question. “What kind of beast?”

The men took one look at Mingus and took a big step back, but to their credit, they did not turn and run. They simply appeared afraid to answer. A boy came around the corner and pushed right passed the men. He looked like a young man of about fifteen and one of the men yelled at him.

“Keng!”

But Keng ignored the man, ran right up to Boston, and gave her a big hug. “You guys got here just in time,” Keng said. He let go of Boston and turned toward Mingus. “It’s a bogy beast,” he said. “I was beginning to think it would be the end for us all, but here you are.”

“But if the beast is the end of the story, we might mess things up if we help.” Lincoln felt concerned about changing time.

“Maybe,” Keng admitted. “But I don’t think it is supposed to be here. I haven’t seen its master, but you know they are never far away.”

“Master?” Lockhart asked.

Keng looked at the man and paused before he smiled. “Not the masters, like that. I mean the bogy man.”

“What is a bogy beast?” Captain Decker wanted to know.

“A bogy man’s dog,” Mingus answered.

“A lesser spirit, up to twenty feet tall or long with razor sharp claws and teeth and it breathes fire. Nearly impossible to kill, the database says. It does look sort of like a bear.” Boston added the last for Lieutenant Harper.

“Definitely not good,” Mingus added under his breath.

“So, you will stay and help?” Keng asked. He looked up at Lockhart again and Lockhart reluctantly nodded.

“But my first duty is to get this crew home,” he said. “If it becomes impossible, we are out of here.”

“Understood.” Keng turned to the men. “They will stay and help, but we need to treat them well while they are here.”

The man who yelled at Keng stepped free of the group and slapped Keng in the ear, hard. “You have no business telling your elders what to do.”  He immediately turned to the travelers. “You are welcome here, and Nagi’s blessing be upon you.”

“Come out, come out.” Other men yelled. “They are sent by the goddess and are here to help.”

Alexis stepped up to Keng to make sure that he was all right. Boston moved up, too, but her lips were moving. “Come out, come out wherever you are and meet the young lady who fell from a star.”

Keng had a hand on his ear, but he smiled on hearing that.

The travelers set up camp in the middle of the village. The people brought some of their food but did not stand around to stare. They especially avoided the elves and some, no doubt, felt the elves were as dangerous as the beast. One of the elder men commented on this.

“How is it that the spirits of the earth do your bidding? Are they safe?”

“We have a common goal,” Lockhart said, with a sideways look at Mingus. “And no, they are not safe, but they will help.”

“But you have them so well trained,” another man commented. Roland had to step in front of his father to prevent an incident.

“So, tell me, do we have to hunt the beast?”

The two elders looked at each other, surprised at being asked such a question. “Why, no,” one finally said. “It has come to the village twice in the night.

“Though it did not come last night,” the other said, thoughtfully.

“Yes, something must have distracted it,” the first concluded.

“Us,” Lockhart said. “Only a ghoul got in the way.”

Not long after that, they heard the not too distant roar.

Avalon 1.0 Neverland part 3 of 5

“Pan!” A young boy burst from the trees, all out of breath. He could not have been more than ten, and he looked all American, or rather Anglo-American, complete with freckles. Pan had the same European look about him.

“Tomma, what is it?”

“Ramina,” the boy said. “We couldn’t stop her.” With that, Tomma put his hands on his knees; but he let his eyes wander around to see this strange group of people Pan had mentioned. Pan called them friends, but Tomma did not look too sure.

“Pan.” A girl’s voice called out, and as she ran up, she showed no sign of being at all tired. Bluebell fluttered up into the girl’s face and turned her nose up. “Oh, a Fee,” Ramina shouted, and reached up to grab the fairy, but Bluebell made a dash for the safety of Boston’s shoulder.

“Ramina.” An exasperated sounding Pan did not have to say more.

“You don’t think I am going to let you go off adventuring without me, do you?” Ramina responded. The girl had to be Pan’s age or maybe closer to twelve or thirteen. She was beginning to show signs that she was developing little bumps and curves.

“It’s a wonder your father lets you go out so far from home at your age, or are we talking real lost boys?” Captain Decker stood up by the fire and checked his weapons in anticipation of a future fight.

“No,” Pan responded. “Our village is that way.” He pointed. “But in this age, children need to grow up fast. I’m eleven. Ramina is only ten, Tomma’s twin.” Everyone looked again and saw Ramina staring at Pan, wiggling her hips ever so slightly, like she was listening to some music no one else could hear. She also looked like she was thinking thoughts for which she was way too young.

Three boys came in and huddled around Tomma, uncertain of what to make of the strangers. “Where’s the Duba?” Pan asked.

“Where do you think?” One of the boys answered and pointed behind with his thumb. Sure enough, in the growing light they saw a boy significantly fatter than the others. He worked his arms like a true runner, but his legs staggered. When he arrived, he fell to his face, and smiled.

“Okay.” Pan clapped his hands like Alice to get everyone’s attention. “Here’s the story. Captain Hook has kidnapped a great lady. Are you ready to go and get her back?”

“Yeah. Okay.” The boys did not sound too sure. They sounded tired.

Honeysuckle chose that moment to come rushing back. “They are still at sea,” she said to Pan. “They won’t get to the village until the sun is high.” She pointed straight up.

“Well then, do we need to hurry?” Lincoln came out of his funk to ask.

“No,” Pan said flatly. “They are not cannibals, and they don’t practice human sacrifice. I imagine she will be all right until we get there.”

“And how far overland to the village?” Mingus asked.

“Half a day at most.” Pan shrugged. “Quicker than by sea in that canoe.”

“Then we stand down and let the boys get some rest. Four hours if Lincoln and Mingus can hold out,” Lockhart decided. “And Ramina can rest.” He smiled for the girl.

“Fairy.” The girl stared at Honeysuckle. Honeysuckle hid behind Pan, but he had a suggestion.

“Go sit on Lieutenant Harper, er, Katie’s shoulder and Ramina, you can visit but do not touch the fairies. Is that clear?”

Ramina’s face lit up. She rushed forward and kissed Pan on the cheek. “Yes. Thank you, shaman. Yes, oh yes.” She skipped over toward the women while Pan wiped the kiss off his cheek with the back of his sleeve.

“Shaman?” Lockhart asked.

“I get that a lot over the years—centuries.” Pan lay down by the fire and in a moment, he fell fast asleep. The other boys followed his example, though they bunched up for protection and warmth. and did not sleep quite so quickly, apart from Duba who began to snore.

“But my wife.” Lincoln spoke and Mingus spoke at the same time.

“But Alexis.”

“So, strike the camp,” Lockhart said. “Roland, would you mind finding us something for an early bite? Doctor Procter, you’ve been very quiet.”

“Eh?” Doctor Procter looked up at the man. “I was just wondering what the poor woman must be going through,” he said, and went to help take down the tents.

~~~*~~~

At that moment, Alexis was being tossed by the waves and trying hard not to throw up. She had a bag over her head. Throwing up would not have been pretty.

“But Hog, they will come for her,” Chodo whined.

“And they can have her,” Hog responded, with a smug sound in his voice. “By then we will have the secret of the breat.”

“But what if she won’t tell us the secret?” Shmee asked.

“Then we will make her tell,” Hog insisted, and he slapped his fist into his open palm.

“But what if they arrive before we can make her tell?” Chodo asked.

“A few people are not stronger than the whole village,” Hog responded.

“But she is a witch.” The truth of what bothered Shmee came out in the sound of his voice.

“Bah! Our Shaman can disarm a simple witch. You worry too much.”

“But what if Pan and the boys find out?” Chodo asked.

“Hmm.” A moment of silence followed, apart from the paddles and the sounds of the sea. “I will think. You paddle.” Hog sounded like Pan and the boys might be a problem.

When they arrived in the camp, Alexis had her hood removed. After stern warnings, her gag also got removed and her feet untied so she could walk to the central fire. They sat her down, untied her hands, but retied her feet so she would not be able to escape easily.

“Stay and watch her,” Hog told his companions, though to be sure, it did not take long before the whole village watched. “I will fetch the Shaman.”

Hog walked off and the people pressed in. Some thought to touch this strangely dressed woman. Shmee had to defend her. “Back away. She is a witch.”

“You will not hurt our people,” Chodo threatened her, but the people heard, backed up, and left her untouched.

“If you want me to make bread, the first thing I need is a bone. It should be a bone from a deer, as thick as your thumb and as long as your forearm.”

“How did you know we wanted breat?” Shmee asked.

“I know many things,” Alexis said, coyly. “And if you have no such bone, a stick might do, but it must be from an oak, the oldest, biggest tree you can find. It will take longer to make it the way I need it, but it will do.”

“I do not remember you using a bone or stick to make breat.” Chodo shook his head. “What do you need this bone-stick for?”

Alexis just looked at the man until he got uncomfortable. “I must have a new wand,” she said at last, though neither man appeared to know what a wand was. They thought about it as Hog came back.

“I have brought the shaman,” Hog said, and pointed at the man who followed him. “Now you make breat for my village.”

Alexis looked up as the shaman sat beside the fire. He looked ordinary enough apart from the red streak painted down each cheek. “Well?” She turned on Chodo and Shmee and they got up to fetch her a wand. “I need to be alone with your shaman for a few minutes,” she told Hog, and he looked willing, in order to find out what Chodo and Shmee were up to.

The elderly shaman just looked at her at first and tried to see what was inside of her. Alexis did not get ruffled or seemed bothered by the look, and that bothered the shaman. Alexis had seen such looks before, though not from one dressed in a loincloth in such chilly weather. The man only had a bearskin draped over his shoulders like a cape to keep him warm. He wore a necklace of trinkets, and he jangled it before her. She remained unmoved.

“Go.” The shaman finally spoke and waved his arm. All of the villagers that had gathered around the stranger separated, though to be sure, they only backed up a few feet and continued to stare.

“Do not be afraid.” Alexis remembered the words of the angel. “I will make bread for the village.”

“Will I be able to make more?” The shaman shot straight to the point.

Alexis shook her head. “Not unless you have the secret of the elves and can make the crackers.” She saw no reason to lie to the man. The man frowned.

“The goblins?” he asked.

“They would not like the name, but I suppose that is how you know them.”

The man’s face twisted as he thought hard. “There may be some advantage in that, knowing that it is enchanted. Call it a one-time gift of the gods.” he concluded his thoughts.

“Oh, I am always glad to help another person of magic,” Alexis said, to test a thought of her own. She judged by the look on the man’s face that he had no real magic of his own.