Golden Door Chapter 8 Morning Matters, part 2 of 2

March 19, 2025January 14, 2025M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“But we only saw one castle,” David said. He tried to turn his mind from the sight of Ashtoreth.

“Castles.” Inaros underlined the plural.

“Yes, you see, this place is in the second heavens, which is not like on earth under the first heavens. Things are different here.” Mrs. Aster spoke quickly.

“An understatement,” Chris muttered, and James got a very broad grin.

Deathwalker held up his hand for quiet before he tried to explain. “There is only one castle, but four castles in a sense. It is all in how you look at it. In the same way, there is only one island, but many, many islands in the sea. They are separate islands, so you can sail to them and all the way around them, but you can also go from one island to the next without ever crossing the water.”

Mrs. Copperpot interrupted and spoke to James and to all by extension. “Most of the monsters now on Castle Isle belong on other islands, but the demon-goddess is now controlling the doors and has Avalon cut off from the Earth, and she has made the innumerable islands of Avalon leak into each other. She is using the monsters to guard the ways to the castles.”

“Enough.” Deathwalker regained the floor. “So there is one castle, but four that are one and the same. There is the Castle on the hill that you have seen. It is called Castle Perilous or Castle Turning or the Castle of the Kairos or Nameless’ Castle.” Mrs. Copperpot cleared her throat to stop the litany. Deathwalker swallowed before he continued. “Yes, it is where the spirits of the Earth reside and where the Kairos usually makes his or her home, but then there are three other castles as well. One is the castle under the earth, Castle Sidhe or the Castle of Darkness, you know, Danna’s Castle.” He paused long enough to stare at Mrs. Copperpot before the next cough. “The castle underground is where the dark elves and fire sprites reside. Lord Deepdigger is master there right now, and his Lady Goldenvein is in the dungeon.”

“He has his own lady in the dungeon?” Beth asked.

Deathwalker waved off the question. “He is enchanted. All the Lords of the Dias are enchanted, and the ladies are all in the dungeon. We think the ladies are all together in the same rooms with your mother, but who can know?”

“You forgot Lord Noen, the Dwarf King is in Nameless’ Castle and his lady is Lady Biggles,” Mrs. Aster interjected.

“Yes, and the Castle in the Clouds, the Castle in the Sky, the Castle of Light, Junior’s place is presently ruled by Lord Oak of the fee.”

“Fairies,” Mrs. Aster whispered.

“It is where the sprites of the air live, and Lord Oak’s lady is Queen Ivy.” Deathwalker nodded to Mrs. Aster and then looked at a contemplative Inaros. “The fourth castle is called the Golden Palace under the sea where Amphitrite used to rule over the winds and waves. Lord Galadren, the Elf King has been made ruler over the water sprites and mere people. He did the most to resist Ashtoreth and his punishment is to be assigned under the sea.”

“His lady?” Chris asked.

“Lisel.” Deathwalker said.

Inaros spoke. “Galadren means strong heart, and he was very hard to enchant, and Lisel means beauty, and that she surely is. My own lord and lady confined to live with the seaweed.” He shook his head.

Mrs. Copperpot rapped her spoon on the table in front of the old man. “I should say Lord Sweetwater and Lady Wavemaker might take exception to your sentiment.”

“To those it suits, dear Lady. To those it suits.”

“Anyway.” Mrs. Aster took the floor again by fluttering down to stand on the table. “We thought we might be able to liberate one or more of the lords from their enchantment and they might know a way to overcome the demon-goddess. After all, and I mean no offense, but what can a bunch of old has-bins and human children do against the likes of her, even if you are the children of the Kairos.”

“Hey. That’s right.” David sat up and looked pleased, as if two and two just connected in his mind.

“That makes us what?” Chris asked. He was going to say nothing special, but Inaros spoke first.

“Like a prince of the realm, and a princess for Miss Beth, in whose blood runs all the power of the rightful king.” He tipped his hat toward Beth.

“More like demigods,” Deathwalker said quietly to Chris and James, but he found his hand slapped by Mrs. Copperpot’s spoon. He popped his hand into his big mouth while she spoke.

“Truth is, if you don’t want to do anything, we can’t make you even if we had all of the power of the little ones on earth.”

“You’re not has-bins.” David backed-up in the conversation.

“Kind of you to say.” Inaros smiled for him.

“I want my mom safe and my dad well,” James said, quietly. Beth nodded, and Chris spoke for the group.

“We’re in,” he said.

Mrs. Aster likewise looked around the table. “As are we,” she said, and it would have been a beautiful moment if Deathwalker had not removed his hand from his mouth to mumble.

“Probably in for the dungeons.” He jumped to get away from the cooking spoon.

“Beth.” Mrs. Aster ignored the exchange and got Beth’s attention. “You are the eldest. We are first.” They all looked again at the open door and the garden-like scene outside.

“It doesn’t look too bad in daylight,” David admitted.

Beth walked to the doorway but hesitated while Mrs. Aster turned back to the others. “We’ll meet you in the Castle in the sky,” she said. They moved through, and the door closed.

“Well, Gentlemen,” Inaros said. “And the ever-blessed Mrs. Copperpot. Who shall go next?”

The thump came and the door opened on pitch blackness. “Looks like the decision has already been made,” Deathwalker said, still out of reach of the cooking spoon. “Come on, Chris.”

“But it is totally dark in there. I can’t see a thing,” Chris protested.

“Now that Holy One gave you eyes.” Deathwalker told him. “And I will admit that those creatures know what they are doing, so I would guess all you have to do is use them. Try looking at the dark in a different sort of way.”

Of course, that honestly explained nothing, but suddenly Chris said, “Wow!” in a way that suggested he saw something, and they stepped through the door together, and the door closed.

“You go next,” James said.

“No.” David immediately protested. “You go.”

James shook his head, but then the next thump came, and the door opened on a real forest scene. They saw a path through the trees, but otherwise the forest looked dark and thick with plenty of bushes and large clumps of fallen leaves at ground level.

“I think I know this place,” Mrs. Copperpot said, as she stepped up for a closer look.

Inaros put his old hand on David’s shoulder. “I think we will call it ladies first,” he said.

Mrs. Copperpot turned around. “Come along, James. At least you won’t starve.” She held out her hand. James reluctantly took it as he looked at his brother. Then he broke free and came back to give David a hug and whisper in David’s ear.

“Good luck. If I can do it, so can you,” he said, and he turned and rushed out to follow Mrs. Copperpot before he changed his own mind.

David nodded, and then he set his courage and he became determined to see things through. His face became stern and stubborn. Inaros noticed but said nothing as the thump came one more time. This time the door exposed a view that looked more like highlands. The trees were strewn sparsely among great rocks and boulders and heather of some kind for beneath the feet. Many of the trees were evergreen trees, and in all they smelled the aroma of cold stone and late spring flowers where spring came later in the highlands. David did not look encouraged by the scene, despite his determination. He hated camping out, but Inaros slipped his arm all the way around David’s shoulder and began to walk, alternately leaning on his stick and the boy.

“Reminds me of Nova Scotia where I sailed with the great Captain Hawk on the Golden Hawk.” He lifted his cane to use again as a pretend sword and leaned more heavily on David as he did. David, kind heart that he was, kept the man upright and helped as much he could.

“Why was he called Captain Hawk, because of the ship, the Golden Hawk?” David asked.

“No,” Inaros said. “It was because he had a great aquiline nose.” He used his cane hand to represent the nose with his fingers. “Made him look a bit like a hawk.” He laughed. “Elizabeth loved him for his quick wit, you know.” Then to David’s curious look, he responded. “The queen, boy. The queen.”

David looked around suddenly, but they were already outside, and the golden door had gone.

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

MONDAY

David gets in trouble with a fish and James has a fine conversation with a tree on Monday. Until then, Happy Reading

Medieval 6: K and Y 20 End and Beginning, part 1 of 2

December 10, 2024November 23, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Benches and tables had been turned over all around the big house. Chairs were broken and tables were moved every which way. Kirstie thought the big room was empty at first, but she heard a sound in the corner of the dais opposite the door and saw some movement behind a table.

“Hello?” she called.

Wilam went to the door, while Inga and Erik stared at the wreckage. “A battle?” Erik asked, not really knowing. Inga shrugged as if to say she did not know, but she added a thought.

“No bodies.”

Wilam wisely peeked before he opened the door. He saw armed men in the street and marketplace, and there appeared to be bodies outside. He shut the door carefully and returned to report to the others but found Kirstie up on the dais.

“Hello,” Kirstie said, pushing a turned over chair from her path.

“Kirstie?” the word came back, a girl’s voice.

“Hilda?” It sounded like her childhood friend. she helped move the table as Hilda stood from where she hid.” What happened?” Kirstie asked as she took her friend’s hand and helped her come to join the others. Hilda began to weep so her words came out in bits and pieces.

“Liv’s men from Varnes… The king’s men… Other men… Kare.” Hilda tried to sniff and pull her thoughts together when Inga reached out and held her. “They came to the house. Thoren took the boys to your house, to Yrsa and Lyall. He said he would get help, but I think he feared the men might be at your house. He told me to go to the Witcher Women across the way. He said I should be safe there.” She began to weep again in earnest. “The women were all dead… They killed Mother Vrya…”

Kirstie picked up the story for Wilam and Erik as Inga began to cry with Hilda. “I’m guessing they went to the Witcher Women before invading Hilda’s home. She probably ran here looking for a safe shelter when they gathered on the road to attack our house.” She reached out to touch Wilam’s arm while she fought her own tears.

“What about the men in town? Where is Chief Kerga? Where are the village elders and the captains and their crews? There are bodies outside, and armed men I don’t recognize in the streets.”

Kirstie nodded and sniffed herself. “The men are at sea or living in Nidaross. They may be the king’s men, but you know the king did not send them. You, me, and the king were fighting the Swedes just a month ago, and the good men of the Trondelag are probably still there, fighting. Kare probably recruited all around the fjord. Don’t be surprised if Bieger, Lind, and Gruden are around. As for Liv… I don’t know what to think. She was a strange one when we were growing up.”

“Liv,” Hilda interrupted. “Liv is here, and her men.”

Kirstie nodded. “She got more strange as the years went on. I don’t know how she became the owner and captain of her own ship.” Kirstie shook her head.

They heard the noise from the outside. It sounded like it was increasing in volume and intensity. Kirstie and Wilam had to look. The elves and fairies of the woods had arrived and were driving back the so-called king’s men. Kirstie saw that Booturn brought a whole company of dwarfs with him, and they were attacking with hammers and axes. Vortesvin ran at the men and the king’s men scattered and ran away from the big troll.

“In here. Quick,” they heard, and Kirstie shouted as she and Wilam closed and barred the door.

“Liv.” Kirstie spat at the door. “Inga, take Hilda to the storeroom and lock yourselves in. There is one window if you need to get out.”

Inga did not argue, but Hilda kept staring, open mouthed, and was slow to respond. Kirstie called for her armor and weapons and found a couple of additions to her ensemble. Yasmina’s small cavalry-shield and scimitar appeared in her hands. She quickly handed the small shield to Erik who stood beside Wilam. Wilam pulled his sword and grabbed a broken chair to serve as his shield. Erik still had the mace he took from the castle wall in Avalon.

Something banged on the front door, hard. Kirstie looked to be sure Inga and Hilda got out when a dozen men burst out of the storeroom. Kerga, Alm, and Thoren led the way. Then the front door got ripped off the hinges. A twelve-foot hag stepped into the room, ducking her head a bit under the ceiling. Plenty of men followed her.

“How can there be a hag?” Kirstie asked. “And one as big as the one in America which was six girls combined.”

The hag answered. “You killed my father!” It was Liv. Kirstie imagined she should have been more surprised, but somehow, she knew all along. She wondered instead how Liv could be a hag without the power of Abraxas behind her. Then she got too busy to think.

She dragged the scimitar across the throat of the man that came at her. It happened by reflex. She nearly cut the man’s head off. It was Lind. She mumbled, “Two for two,” and let go of the weapon. The scimitar vanished and her battleaxe flew to her hand.

Chief Kerga and two others went at the hag. Kirstie tried to yell, “No.” but it was too late. She tried to run and help, but the Liv-hag caught her with a backhand that sent her across the room. Her shield cracked, her arm broke, and her ribs caved in all from that one blow. She could only lay there and watch.

Wilam killed Bieger. Thoren, Alm, and the others drove the king’s men back outside, but then stayed near the door. They did not want the elves or dwarfs to mistake them for the enemy. Wilam stood out front knowing the little ones would recognize him and he could turn them away. Alm stood with him.

With the room mostly empty, Liv turned on the broken body of Kirstie at her feet. “You killed my father,” Liv repeated, and Kirstie thought with cool dispassion.

Of course. Liv is a demigod, daughter of the evil Abraxas. She thought of what both Grandfather Njord and Father Fryer said when they gave her the gifts of water and fire. It will be enough. She could only try.

Kirstie sat herself up, her back to the wall. She raised her good hand and poured the fire of the sun on the hag. She gave it every ounce of fire she had in her. The hag reveled in the flames and grew to eighteen, maybe twenty feet. Kirstie dispassionately thought this was the last gasp of the titans whose blood still ran in the gods of old.

Liv roared as she busted through the ceiling and roof of the big house. Great timbers came crashing down to the floor, and one wall busted free of the structure. She roared like the sound of a hundred lions. The building caught fire and it spread rapidly, but Kirstie could not help that. She simply opened her mouth.

A fountain of water flowed from her mouth. It quickly became a stream of water, and in the end a roaring river, more than the biggest firehoses combined. It completely covered the burning hag. In the future, Kirstie swore she heard a loud Snap or Crack when the glue that held the hag together busted altogether. Kirstie remembered the Grendel. She fully expected Liv would not melt exactly like the others. She would retain some of her size and shape, but she would surely be dead. It was enough.

Kirstie smiled, knowing that this was definitely the last. She looked around at the building and knew she did not have more water to put out the burning wood. The big house would burn rapidly to the ground with her in it. She did not mind. She felt certain she was dying.

She saw movement. It looked like a man with a sword at the ready. She recognized him when he got close and spat his name, though she could hardly talk. “Gruden.”

“Kairos,” he responded, and grinned. “The Masters have determined that if I can kill you before your time, that will disrupt your rebirths and end them. Then you will not be around to stand in the way of their plans, and they can ruin the world as they please.”

Kirstie shook her head. It did not work that way. The God who knows the end from the beginning would know ahead of time the precise moment of her death. That would be her proper time, no matter what the Masters did.

Gruden stepped up to her, sword in hand, pointed down at her middle. She did this once with Captain Ulf on the field below Lindisfarne, only that time she sat up and turned so Ulf missed her. Now, she could hardly move. Her entire left side felt numb.

Gruden looked ready to strike. Kirstie called for her long knife, Defender. The knife vacated its sheath and flew to her hand, so when Gruden came down with his sword and pierced her in the middle, her knife went up into the man’s chest, cutting him in the heart, using the man’s own motion toward her to make up for her failing strength.

Kirstie knew she would not survive the cut in her belly. She would soon bleed out her life. But Gruden’s eyes went wide with surprise when Defender cut him deeply. He fell and died quickly.

Wilam braved the flames and the collapsing big house. He found her readily enough. The sword fell out from the weight of the handle. It made the cut worse, but that hardly mattered. Wilam lifted her and carried her outside to lay her down gently.

Kirstie wanted to tell him she loved him. She wanted to say, sell the properties if you can, though she imagined the survivors would move to Nidaross and abandon Strindlos. Strindlos, without Chief Kerga and without Mother Vrya and without the meeting hall to designate the center of the village would become a ghost town, like the village never existed. She wanted to tell him to take the children to Northumbria to his family and live there, but she could not breathe. Her lungs were punctured and collapsed, so she opted just to kiss him until she passed out.

Medieval 6: K and Y 19 To Abraxas, part 2 of 2

December 9, 2024October 1, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

“You evaded my traps much too easily. I felt sure the dragons would devour you right at the beginning.”

“Dragons are smarter than you think. They will not bite the hand that feeds them.”

Abraxas squinted at her. “I did not know you could move from place to place here like one of the gods.”

“There is much you do not know about this place.”

“I know I have shut down your access to other lives. You cannot call on one of your godly lives to challenge me. It is just mortal you in this place.”

“But this is my place, and you have no business being here.”

He whined and his face contorted with anger. “You shut down the rest of my options. I was all set to go to a completely different world on the other side of the earth. I wouldn’t have bothered you. I had followers. But no, you killed them. You went all the way there and killed them. This place is all I have left.”

“Now is your chance to let go and go over to the other side.”

“No!” He sounded like a three-year-old. And he screeched. “You don’t know what that means. The gods are immortal. I haven’t had a chance to live. I’m not finished. I’m not ready.”

“Now,” Kirstie thought and said out loud.

“You mortals cannot hurt me. Your weapons cannot hurt me.” He yelled, but as he spoke he got pelted with keyboards, wires, and all kinds of equipment from overhead. Cassandra shot her arrow and scooted behind a desk chair. Inga threw her vial which burst and filled the room with smoke and a noxious smell. Wilam and Brant, now behind him, yelled a war cry like they were ready to attack him with their swords.

Abraxas threw his hands forward and made Cassandra and Inga push back to the wall. The force drove Erik right back into the hall, but Kirstie ducked. He threw his hands up and scattered the elves that were bombing him with equipment from the skylight above. He spun around, angry at the annoyance and shot a poison spell at Wilam, but Brant jumped in front, so he caught the full spell.

When Abraxas turned back around, he found Kirstie in his face and her battleaxe cut deeply across his middle. She cut deeper into his side on her backswing and the axe caught in his ribs. He looked down as his life began to quickly bleed out and he looked like he did not understand. “But no mortal weapon can harm me.”

“Made by the dwarfs Eitri and Brokkr under the blessing of Odin himself,” she responded, as her long knife Defender vacated its sheath and flew to her hand. “The others were just distracting you.” She shoved the knife in the heart of the god and Abraxas collapsed, still not comprehending what happened. “Made by the dark elves in Mount Etna under Vulcan’s watchful eye.” Kirstie held her hand out and the long knife vacated Abraxas’ chest, pulling a piece of his heart with it. “And I have been counted among the gods from the beginning, even when I am strictly a mortal nobody.”

“But…” it was Abraxas’ last word.

Kirstie stood while Abraxas died, or as they say, went over to the other side. Everyone else stayed on their knees, gagging for their breath, not the least because of Inga’s stink bomb. They rubbed their sore muscles, looked for cuts, and examined their bruises. They all turned their heads to the door when they heard a clinking-clanking sound.

A knight dressed head to toe in plate armor such as had not yet been invented stepped into the room. He said nothing but went straight to Abraxas and lifted the body off the floor. He easily slung the skinny dead god over his shoulder, turned, and exited the room to disappear down the hall. Inga, Cassandra, and Erik all spoke at once.

“Who was that? What was that? Where did he come from? Where did he go?”

“A Knight of the Lance,” Kirstie said as she sat at a desk and began furiously poking at the flat box with the letters and symbols on it.

Brant collapsed and moaned. Wilam held up his head and Brant smiled for him. Inga ran as much a she could. She got down beside him to examine him. She found some tears in her eyes and turned to Kirstie.

“I don’t know what it is. There is no wound. He is growing cold.”

Kirstie paused and got down with the others. She traded places with Mother Greta because she could do that again, now that the source of the pressure that closed off her personal timeline was removed. Mother Greta had little magic, but one thing she could do was diagnose internal problems much easier than Doctor Mishka who would have to draw a blood sample to analyze. It did not take long.

“Sorcerer’s poison,” she said, and shook her head as if to say there was nothing she could do.

“He obviously meant it for me,” Wilam said. “But Brant got in the way.”

“He wanted to hurt Kirstie as much as he could,” Greta said before she went away, and Kirstie came back to finish the thought. “That is the way an evil mind works. Abraxas claimed to be a god over good and evil, but no one ever saw the good in him.”

Brant struggled to talk. He looked at Inga and whispered through uncooperative lips and tongue. “It is what we do.” He tried to turn to Wilam, but all he could turn was his eyes. “I’ve been watching out for you since you were a baby. Give me this one.” He looked again at Inga, and she bent over him, eyes full of tears, and planted her lips on his. He closed his eyes, and after a moment he turned cold, and Inga pulled back from his lips and cried on him.

Kirstie and Wilam cried with her, but eventually, Kirstie got up and went back to her workstation. She traded places with Alice of Avalon because Alice was the one who set it all up in the first place. She would correct whatever was amiss. And while she grieved for Brant, as any life of the Kairos would, she did not feel the immediate sting as certainly as Kirstie.

Erik and Cassandra stood by the door. The elves that escaped to the roof when Abraxas came and pelted him with electronics when the time was right, came first. They worked in the control room and quickly returned to their stations to help. They acknowledged Erik and Cassandra as they came in. Erik smiled, remembering the elves he met the last time he, Inga, and Kirstie visited Avalon. Cassandra looked more astonished and inclined to bow her head to the people of legend and look down like one who felt unworthy.

Erik questioned her, and she answered forthrightly. “The Amazons have always seen the little ones as a sign of good fortune and great blessing.” Erik understood .and pointed down the hall.

A delegation of little ones came toward the control room. It looked like the kings and queens of the dais—the elves of light and dark, the dwarfs, and the fairies, with their attendants. It also looked like the lesser gods who called Avalon home; the Naiad of the spring that burst from the rocks beside the great tower that housed the Heart of Time, the Dryad of the deep forest that began at the back of the castle and climbed all the way up the distant mountains, and the oread of the mountains themselves that kept Avalon and the many isles grounded in reality. Erik had to keep Cassandra from falling to her knees.

Alice came to the door. “Welcome friends. All is settled. The evil one who disturbed your peace is no more. He has gone to the other side. But we lost a man in the struggle. He was a great man and should be treated and buried in all honor and respect. Please take him and prepare him.”

Several attendants broke from the group and waited patiently until Inga indicated they could take Brant’s body away.

Brant was buried in the cemetery near the tower of the Heart of Time, and the others stayed three days in the castle. When the time came to go home, Kirstie first sent Cassandra back to the Isle of the Amazons. The others gathered in the Great Hall beside the Hall of Feasting.

“We cannot go back to Aesgard, or to Freyja’s Hall in the place of the Vanir. Our route is simpler, and direct. She waved her hand as she did many times by then, and a door appeared between here and there. The little ones all waved goodbye and said encouraging words, though Inga and Wilam seemed barely able to smile.

When Kirstie opened the door, she found the Big House back home on the other side, but something did not feel right. The place was empty, though it was the middle of the day, and she saw signs of violence in the big room.

Medieval 6: K and Y 18 Aesgard to Avalon, part 2 of 2

December 3, 2024October 1, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

The cave disappeared, and they found themselves in a room, much like the meeting room in the big house in Strindlos. The room had wooden benches, a couple of tables, and a raised platform on one end with a couple of chairs, presumably for the chiefs. Fortunately, no one appeared to be present at the moment.

“Everyone here?” Inga asked, because somehow she lost hold of Erik, but all were present. Erik managed to squeeze himself between Wilam and Brant when the chittering started behind them.

Erik asked, “What was that chittering?”

“Dragon babies,” Kirstie said offhandedly. “Not something to get tangled with. Really sharp teeth.” Kirstie seemed to be focused on the lines again as they appeared in mid-air.

“Looks like home,” Wilam said, looking around.

“Except it looks clean,” Inga countered. “The floor has been swept.”

Brant supported Inga. “They have picked flowers in vases on small tables by the windows off to the sides and on the altar at the back of the dais.

“And it does not smell like too much beer and sweat,” Inga concluded.

“We have been here before,” Erik added his own conclusion, which got Inga to take a second look around.

“Not here, exactly,” Kirstie said, and she touched something in the air that caused the lines to temporarily disappear.. “This is Amazon Island. The Amazon women control all this land.” She looked at Wilam and added, “I hit the reset button,” even if he did not know what she was talking about. “The transport program should reset to the default settings.”

The door opened at the far end of the hall, and a handful of armed women came in to welcome, or maybe confront their visitors. The women stopped by the door and one asked, “Who are you and what do you want?”

Kirstie quickly stepped in front of Wilam, and Inga took the hint and stepped in front of Brant. She had to shift her bag to the other arm to do it. Erik still stood between the two men, but Kirstie figured he would be fine. At seventeen, he still looked mostly like a boy. “Kirstie,” she said. “Kairos of this present time. And Thriacia, why have you let Abraxas come into this place?”

The women pulled up. The two with spears raised them from their threatening position and backed to the door, like guards. The one on the left and the one on the right both looked at the one in the middle, no doubt Thriacia. Thriacia looked startled. “Lady,” she said. “Why have you let men into the sanctuary?”

“Women sit in the meeting house back home. Men are allowed here as long as they sit to the side and only speak when they have permission.” Kirstie returned to playing with the lights in mid-air. Wilam, Brant, Inga, and Erik had no idea what she was doing, or how she could cause lights to appear in the middle of the air, though Inga maybe guessed the closest. The Amazons looked like they were equally unsure how Kirstie was doing what she was doing, or even what exactly she was doing.

“But…” Thriacia started again.

The woman on the left interrupted, speaking to the question. “We did not let Abraxas come here. We could not exactly stop him. The evil one has done much damage while we have awaited your arrival. Lady Alice is stymied and can hardly hold things together.”

The one on the right added softly, “She may be ill.” Thriacia nodded and pointed to the woman, like she spoke the truth.

“May I ask,” Brant said in his formal best. “Where is this evil one and how can we reach him?”

Thriacia and the women looked hard at the man for speaking out of turn, but Thriacia softened after a moment of reflection. “You may ask, though it would be better if you let your woman speak for you. As for the enemy, my report, as the mermaids who cannot shut up tell it, they heard from the elves that the man is in the castle on Avalon proper and he has found his way to the main control room where he is trying to puzzle out the, um, programming?” She looked at Kirstie who nodded to say she used the right word.

“How…” Wilam began, but Kirstie stomped on his foot. Fortunately, Inga caught the idea and spoke.

“How do we get there from here?”

“I am the queen here,” Thriacia said and pointed to the quiet one, “My healer, Lydia.” She pointed to the one who answered the question. “My hunter, Cassandra, and you are?”

“Inga, volva of Strindlos and the Trondelag, and skald of the Norse people.”

“The wise woman of the Norse is welcome here, but the way to the castle is a journey. Cassandra can guide you.”

Cassandra nodded. “I need to see to my son and kiss my husband and I will be ready,” she said, and Lydia leaned over to speak.

“You are always ready,” she said in her soft voice. “It is annoying.”

“No need,” Kirstie said all of a sudden. “The teleport is back online. I better use it before Moron messes it up again. Hold hands.” Kirstie took Wilam’s hand and Cassandra rushed forward to grab Inga’s hand just before Kirstie touched the line. Once again, the whole room around them changed to a completely different room.

Kirstie put her hands up, but this time the light did not come. “Well,” she said, “At least we are in Castle Turning. Let us hope he hasn’t figured out how to turn the place.” She stopped and looked around at the new hall they were in. It looked long and narrow with a fireplace at one end and a table and chairs on a platform at the other end. One wall was lined with alternating bookshelves and tapestries. The other had windows with some sort of glass that looked out on a balcony and over to a lovely garden area.

“Cassandra?” Inga asked, wanting to get the name straight.

Kirstie let out a small laugh. “Aren’t you afraid the Princess will be mad at you for using her name, the name she hates?”

“Lady,” Cassandra spoke to the point. “Don’t start that argument all over again. The Amazons took a vote and approved Cassandra and Lydia and other names of yours, and the Princess already said she did not mind other people having the name, she just could not stand it for herself.”

“But if it is her name…” Brant was not sure how to ask the question, he never met the Princess and only saw her at a distance, and only knew her as Princess.

“She gets mad if we call her Cassandra. She goes by the name, Princess.”

Brant nodded and Inga interrupted with a comment. “We have been here before. This is Avalon.”

“I thought I recognized the garden,” Erik said as he stared out of the windows.

Kirstie nodded. “The hall of feasting is to the right. It has some windows that look down on the same garden.”

“Which way do we go?” Wilam asked.

“We go the opposite direction. There are several passages we need to navigate to get to the control room.” She headed toward a door between two tapestries, and the others followed. It seemed wide and tall but otherwise an ordinary enough hallway at first, with the occasional table with flowers, wall decorations, including a few paintings and more tapestries, and a few windows to the outside world near the occasional doors that led to some room or other. Now and then another hallway went off to the left or right, and twice they passed a crossroads.

“This is much further than I would have guessed,” Wilam finally said.

“This fortress must be bigger than any on earth,” Brant agreed.

“Endless,” Erik said, dredging up the memory from what the dwarfs told him.

“Don’t believe everything the dwarfs say,” Kirstie mused, and held her mouth while she walked. She got an impression from some elves in and around the control room. It came on her private wavelength, like a prayer to the goddess of the little ones. It was one place—one form of communication Abraxas could not tap into. They said they were in a position to distract the god when she was ready. Before she could answer the light dimmed, like the torches lost some of their flare, and every other torch disappeared altogether. “Oh no,” Kirstie said out loud and picked up her pace.

The air turned toxic. Inga, Cassandra, and Erik began to cough. Wilam held his nose and said, “Smells like your foundry.”

Kirstie shouted. “Hold your breath.” and touched something on the wall.

Everyone tried their best as they found themselves suddenly underwater. The hall looked the same, though the torches were missing. Instead, they had skylights on the ceiling to let in light from some source, maybe the sun, and they had to swim, though they could walk or bob slowly through the water.

Kirstie was not bothered because of the gift of Njord. She could breathe underwater after a fashion, but she feared if it went on too long for her friends, they might all drown. Fortunately, she found another spot on the wall and the hallway changed again, and while most coughed and tried to catch their breath, they got pushed by a great wind that came rushing down the hall. Erik was too close to a window that did not have any glass in it. He almost got blown out. Inga and Cassandra grabbed the boy and looked down.

“It is nothing but clouds beneath us,” Inga shouted to be heard above the howl of the wind.

“In here,” Kirstie said, and she opened the door and shoved Wilam into the room. When they all got inside, Wilam had to help her close the door, but when the door was closed, everything became still.

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

November 25, 2024October 1, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

“Though enough of these men are young and untried,” she told the king. “Don’t expect too much from some of them.”

“As long as they hold the line and push forward when the time comes.”

Kirstie understood but thought to add one thing. “If we are successful and the men go home enriched, all will be well. but if we are unsuccessful, don’t expect the Trondelag to come up with so many men again.”

“That is the way with battles and wars,” the king answered.

“Just so we understand, I cannot do the impossible.”

“You have not disappointed me so far.” the king smiled, and Kirstie turned to a map spread out on the table.

“So, what are we looking at? Where are the Danes and how many?”

“They are everywhere and more than I care to count.”

The king was moderately successful that year. The Danes were pushed off the Oslo Fjord, but they did not go far away. They would push in again and Fairhair would drive them back again. That area would not get resolved for at least three hundred years.

Somehow, between the fighting years, Kirstie managed another baby, a girl she called Heidi. She said she named her baby after the Valkyrie who started it all, or maybe the nice, peaceful girl on the mountain who live with her grandfather. They also squeezed in another summer trip to Northumberland.

Kirstie went three times to fight for the king. She brought six hundred and thirty on the second trip, and this time the Swedes joined with them against the Danes. They seriously pushed the Danes back that year. The third time, seven hundred and three followed her, only this time they fought the Swedes, or at least the Geats. It got tiresome, but as long as the men were successful enough to bring home some coins and some pillaged goods, there were some that would be willing.

Kirstie turned thirty on that third trip, and the king kept them fighting, until Kirstie got word there was trouble at home. Fortunately, Sigurd was of age. He fought with them the last time along with his friend Haakon, the king’s son. They said they learned a lot from Kirstie, and the king was pleased. On this third time, Kirstie told Sigurd she had to go but it was time for him to fly. Haakon flapped his arms like a bird and laughed, but they understood.

Kirstie and Wilam got a ride home with Captain Frode. The man got his own ship, and was teaching his son, Knud, the ways of the sea. He had long since moved to Nidaross and parted on the most friendly terms with Captain Rune Stenson, who himself moved to the town at the mouth of the Nid River. Strindlos was becoming a ghost town where only the determined few were hanging on.

Chief Kerga still oversaw the village. Many of the village elders remained, though for the most part their good land was up by the Varnes River, and they mostly counted themselves as men of Varnes. The Volva, Mother Vrya, and the Witcher Women held on, though Mother Vrya could hardly hobble down the road and appeared older than dirt. That meant Inga stayed in the town, if only to take care of old Mother Vrya. For all practical purposes, Inga had become the Volva for the community, for Nidaross, and to some extent, for the whole Fjord, not the least because of her close association to Kirstie.

Kirstie bought several more farms as people moved out. She set her childhood friend up in a farm across the road from the place of the Witcher Women. It had much better land for growing crops and keeping the cows and some sheep. Thoren and Hilda were grateful. Of course, Hilda had her own crew of children by then and needed the better land. The fact that it put Hodur just down the road from his best friend Soren was a plus. For Kirstie, she became something like a noblewoman. She was land rich and cash poor.

For better or worse, Kirstie became something of a ruler, in the loosest sense of the word, for the whole of the Trondelag. She certainly became one of the main leaders for several reasons. Men learned what a hag was during the Vanlil invasion, a terrible hairy monster that could shred a man better than a bear. Kirstie was the hag hunter, and a successful one. Some men were afraid of her. Then, she killed Captain Ulf at Lindisfarne. Lots of men looked to Ulf or followed him on raids. When she slew the man, she took over that group leadership, or at least they dared not cross her. Then, it was not exactly a secret, though men only talked about it in whispers, but Kirstie had some unaccountable power over the things of legend. The dwarfs and elves, light and dark, seemed to do what she wanted. She had an actual giant working on her farm for a time. She was a fire starter and had a deep connection to water and the sea. The sea, and even the storms bent to her will. She could call the fish to surrender themselves to her boat and to the fire in her fingertips. Such magic had not been seen in the Norse lands in ages, if ever. Needless to say, when she talked, the men listened. Of course, it was not something she especially wanted, but it was thrust upon her, as the man once said. Her husband being the son of Halfdan Ragnarsson did not hurt.

When Kirstie returned home and cleaned up the mess that was made, she feared being discovered at last. The king’s captain, Engle Bronson was involved, and though he died, he finally had the proof that Kirstie was indeed the Kairos, and no doubt passed that word on to Bieger. Bronson was a servant of the Masters as was his skipari, Bieger, and so were the king’s assassins, Lind, and Gruden, who would no doubt come after her. Kirstie did not want to sound paranoid, but those four had been searching for her, the Kairos-her, for the past twenty years. The thing is, they could never prove it or be sure. She seemed such a good little Viking. Now they knew. Her days in Strindlos, indeed in Scandinavia were numbered.

“So, we move to Northumberland,” Wilam said. The grandparents, my parents won’t be around much longer. My brothers, Ecgberht and Godric are more than capable of running the farm. They basically do that already, but I can help. I have learned being here that I am something of a farmer after all.”

“I am sorry about that,” Kirstie said, and rubbed her nose. “You wanted to be a navigator on a ship and have adventures, and I made you pick up a plow and a hoe.”

Wilam laughed. “I can’t imagine a more adventurous life than following you around. Besides, I got what I wanted.” He kissed her forehead and she smiled and pulled closer to him.

“You get to go again,” she said, without explaining. She sneezed. She pulled back and sneezed again.

“Are you all right?” Wilam asked.

Kirstie nodded. “I may be coming down with a cold,” she said.

“Maybe we should go to bed so you can rest,” he suggested.

“What? You got me all interested with you got what you wanted and then you just want to go sleep?” She sneezed again and found a cloth to blow her nose.

“Come on,” he said, and put her to bed.

Medieval 6: K and Y 14 And Back Again, part 2 of 2

November 11, 2024September 29, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

When they got to Brant’s house, Soren came running. He gave Wilam a big hug. Kirstie put her hands on her hips and huffed. “He is my son too,” Wilam said, and after a second, Kirstie nodded, and thought that thanks to Wilam, the boy had a family. That was important, and not something Kirstie could give him. She would not mind giving him a baby sister, though. She looked again at Wilam and had all sorts of thoughts.

Soren took Yrsa’s hand as they walked into the house. He wanted to introduce Yrsa to his grandma and grandpa, and his other grandma, and his three uncles, though they kept trying to tell him only two were actual uncles.

“I might as well be invisible,” Kirstie said.

“Not to me.” Wilam slipped his arm around her shoulders.

They went inside, and on sight of Wilam, his mother Wilburg began to cry for Mary Katherine. They sent word, and some of the crew that lived in Lucker certainly spread the news, but seeing her eldest son triggered some serious tears in the woman, and her lifelong friend Eadgyd cried some with her.

Kirstie left Wilam’s protective arm to hug both women. She took Soren and Yrsa out back to check on Birdie and Missus Kettle. The dwarf wives appeared content with their work, but Kirstie knew that was not exactly true.

“You know,” Birdie said. “Now, after a month, with Wilburg’s arm mostly healed, and Eadgyd’s leg healed to where she can get around, I just don’t feel needed anymore.” She sighed a great sigh and looked down at the mud that surrounded the kitchen area.

“Not me,” Missus Kettle the cook said. “I got my hands full feeding four boys and the old man. Wilburg and Eadgyd say they don’t know what they would do without me, or how I manage to cook so much so well. I will say, though, it would help if I had Buckles, my husband here. He is a most excellent hunter and could help supplement these meagre rations I have to work with.”

Kirstie counted. “Hrothgar, Ecgberht, and Godric. Four boys?”

“Soren counts,” she said. “He is getting to be a good little eater.”

Of course. How could she forget her own son? She smiled for him and turned to the dwarf wives. “So, here is what we will do.” She hugged Birdie before she clapped her hands. Birdie went back to Norway, to her husband Booturn and Buckles appeared by his wife.

Buckles shouted for a moment. Missus Kettle hit him on the head with her cooking spook and he spouted, “Oh, it’s you.”

It did not take long to explain the situation, and Buckles said he would be glad to help out. Missus Kettle banged her cooking spoon against the big kettle on the fire and all three boys showed up. She had them well trained. “Hrothgar, Ecgberht, and Godric. This is Buckles. He is an excellent hunter and trapper, and he will teach you, if you want to learn.”

“What happened to Birdie?” Ecgberht asked.

“She had to go home,” Kirstie answered.

“We didn’t even get to say goodbye?” Godric whined.

“I am sure she will miss you too,” Kirstie said. “But now, you need to listen to Buckles here. He is Missus Kettle’s husband and will help keep the food on the fire.”

“Good thing,” Hrothgar said. “With Father Espen and his bad knee, we could use the help. Our supplies are running a bit thin.”

“Buckles will also go with you when it is time to harvest the crops on Espen’s farm, maybe in a month or so. That should help see us through the winter.”

“Some for God, some for the tax, some to eat, and some to sell is what I always try to get from my farm,” Espen said as he hobbled outside to take a seat by the fire. “Don’t know how I’m going to be able to plant again in the spring. I don’t know.”

Kirstie quickly introduced Buckles, and Buckles spoke. “The lady has asked me to help and that is what I intend to do. We will work out the spring in the spring. First, we got a fall harvest to plan, and then the winter meat to feed this lot.” He sounded very reassuring and did not have a single complaint about having so much work to do. It was very un-dwarf-like. “I hope you don’t mind if I teach your sons a thing or two about the hunt.”

Espen slowly nodded as Buckles smiled. “I would appreciate that very much,” Espen said, and almost went to tears as he thought with his busted knee, he might never be able to teach his sons as a good father should. Ecgberht, at seventeen, had the basics, but Godric at fourteen hardly learned how to string his bow and properly hold his spear.

Wilam and Brant came to the back door, and Brant said, “We need to do it.”

“Do what?” Kirstie asked.

“We are packing everyone up and moving back to the farm,” Wilam said.

“Now that the immediate threat of Vikings is over, the farm has food to harvest for the winter and plenty of trees nearby for firewood and to hunt,” Brant said.

“Not to mention the farmhouse has more room, and the Barn is big and can be fixed up for living quarters,” Wilam added.

“I don’t know where the animals might be,” Espen interrupted. “Probably taken by the neighbors or stolen.”

Wilam and Kirstie both looked at Yrsa and she opened up. “I asked Lord Marsham. Lupen and Flora, a very nice couple volunteered to watch the farm over this last month. They are very good with the animals.”

“Couple of skinny doodles.” Buckles shrugged like he did not mind too much. “No offence, Princess,” he added for Yrsa.

Kirstie just stared at Yrsa until Yrsa defended herself. “Lady. Alm and I have been overseeing your farm for years now. We have gotten very good at knowing who will enjoy the work and do a good job. Lupen and Flora have even gotten a few local gnomes to help. Everything will be in good shape when we arrive.”

Kirstie nodded as Soren finally climbed up into her lap and gave her a hug. “We are going back to the farm,” she told him.

“Are we going home?” Soren asked. He sounded a little homesick, but also like he did not want to lose his grandparents and uncles. Kirstie just hugged him back.

It took three days to close up the house in Lucker and move everyone to Ellingham. The neighbors were glad to see them, and welcomed Brant, Hrothgar, and Eadgyd as family. Most already knew Brant. It took another week to get settled in, but then the routine of plain old farm work took over and kept them busy enough.

Kirstie imagined she became pregnant in September. She felt certain in October, but she did not say anything until November, after the harvest. Wilam got excited like a child at Christmas. Kirstie just smiled a lot. She figured she would deliver either June fifteenth or July fifteenth, although last time, Inga calculated her due date as March fifteenth and Soren was born on the sixth, so maybe she delivered a week early. July fifteenth was most likely, but she would not mind June. She should be home well before then, she imagined.

The fall went by fast, and the winter dragged, as winters do. As much as Soren loved his grandparents and uncles, he got terribly bored and ready to go home by his birthday on the sixth of March. Brant and Wilam set things up in the fall. Despite the Viking raid, the smithies kept their forges hot and produced some fine goods for trade. In March, they only had to collect it all and get it to Captain Olaf in Bamburgh.

Medieval 6: K and Y 11 The Chase, part 1 of 2

October 22, 2024September 28, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Gathering men proved difficult. Most of those who were alive were too old or too young, or they were too busy grieving their losses and being afraid. Some wanted revenge, so they did gather some, about twenty-five or so. Most could not ride, even if they had the horses, so they were stuck moving on foot, just like the Vikings. Kirstie could only hope that the mules and oxen pulling the Viking wagons would slow them down enough so they could be caught.

Wilam caught up with Kirstie in the village center. “I sent a man on Brant’s horse to Lucker to see if he can raise more men. I told him the route, being the road to the coast, so they can find us. Are you sure they will stick to the road?”

Kirstie nodded. “Fairly sure. They have wagons. They know from the last time that the nearest fortress is hours away, and the nearest Manor house with soldiers is also a long way. They are not worried about an army from Bamburgh. They figure they will be gone before men can be fetched from Bamburgh.”

“The coastal watch might catch them,” one man suggested, but Kirstie shot down that idea.

“The coastal watch might call up forty men or so after a couple of hours, but we are talking at least three shiploads of Vikings. That is maybe a hundred and forty warriors. Even the coastal watch would have to wait for reinforcements, and by then the Vikings will be long gone.”

“So why are we going after them with just twenty-five men?” One man raised his voice and several men sounded like they might back out of going.

Kirstie had to get up on the steps to talk to all the men. She called to her battleaxe and her shield. They came to her back and her sword automatically shifted to her hip to make room, and she yelled. “I once stood down four hundred men by myself on the island of Lindisfarne. We will be the reinforcements for the coastal watch, plus men will come from Lucker to join us. If we move now, we can catch them before they go to sea. Are we ready?”

Most men mumbled, “Yes,” and “I guess so.” But when Kirstie started down the road, the men fell in behind. One hustled to her side and smiled.

“You are the woman of legend,” he said. “I heard the story as the bards tell it. We all have.”

Kirstie looked up at Wilam on horseback to see if he was listening in. She told the man, “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

When they got about half-way to the coast, they had to stop. A rider caught up with them. They waited for some thirty-five men to join them. Brant came with them, and he apparently got his horse back. They had sixty men at that point, and twenty were on horseback, so Kirstie called the horsemen to her. She had an idea.

“Is there a back way to the coast that does not run along this main highway?”

“Several,” the men said. “But they wind more through farms and such and take longer to get there.”

“But not so long on horseback as on foot.”

“No. Not so long.” The men agreed.

“And how many of you know the coast and the people who still live there? Do you know the coastal watch people?” Most of them knew someone. “So here is what I recommend. Ride ahead. We will start marching again, but you ride ahead until you spot the Vikings on the road. Then ride around them and raise the coastal watch and as many others as you can get to come out and block the road just before the coast. Don’t let them get on the north-south coastal road or they will elude us. But send at least two or three men back to us to let us know how far away we are and whether we need to hurry.”

“We will have them surrounded,” Wilam said.

“Not exactly,” Kirstie answered. “They might still outnumber us. But we should have the road blocked in hopefully a strong defensive position and might negotiate to get back the hostages. And if they try to escape by cutting across country, they will have to abandon their wagons.”

“Right,” Brant said and gave the horsemen no choice. They mounted and rode off at all speed, and Kirstie started the rest of the group moving again. about an hour later, three men came riding up to report. The Vikings were about an hour ahead. The coastal watch had the road blocked, and if they hurried, they could trap them on the road.

They hurried, but when they arrived at the expected place, they found only the men from the coast there. The Vikings had vanished.

Brant, Wilam, and two men rode out from the other side. The coastal men spoke to the leaders from Ellingham and Lucker, and Kirstie. Kirstie had to yell to be heard.

“Is there a cutoff?” the men paused and Kirstie spoke. “Is there a trail or path that cuts the corner from this road to the coastal road?” The men looked at each other, and one of the coastal watch said there was.

“But it is not easy to find. How could they even know about it?”

“Hostages,” Brant figured it out, and the men instantly understood.

“We might still be able to catch them,” Kirstie said. She looked at the men on horseback and yelled at the one she recognized. “Hrothgar, give me your horse. You need to hurry these men as much as you can.”

Hrothgar looked like he did not want to do that. He looked at his big brother, Brant, but Wilam just scowled and said, “You heard my wife. Hurry up.”

Hrothgar got down reluctantly, and Kirstie mounted the horse. She knew how to do that much. Then she traded places again with the Princess and rode off quickly before the men could get a good look at her. The rest of the men on horseback, now about thirty, took a few minutes to catch up. The other ninety or so men on foot would come along more slowly.

The Vikings got to the coastal road before the horsemen arrived. It took another half hour to find the place where the longships were hidden. The Vikings were loading their ships and abandoning the mules and wagons. One man and two horses took arrows from the dozen that shot out from the rocky ridge overlooking the inlet and the ships. The riders had to pull back and get down behind some trees.

“Damn,” Kirstie swore in English and followed up with several words from several languages unknown to the men that were there. They all understood the sentiment. Some men had bows, but the distance was too great for their arrows. It meant the men in the rocks could not reach them with any more arrows either, so it became a standoff.

While Brant and a couple of elders tried to figure out how to get around and dislodge the men in the rocks. the Princess stepped aside to close her eyes and reach out with her thoughts. She found all sorts of little ones watching the events transpire, but they were not in any better position to disrupt the Vikings than the men. The young elf lord Marsham had a group up from the southern coast that lived near the mouth of the Coquet River. Dwarfs under the leadership of Warthog, son of Piebald were marching down from the Cheviot Hills. A fairy troop under Hassel and Lady Heath, daughter of May and Pinewood from the Till River were the first to arrive.

Hassel got there first and moved without asking permission. His troop, which the Vikings probably took to be a flock of birds, came to the rocks, got big, and shot half of the Vikings before they could abandon their position. The other half went down when they tried to run away. Before the fairies could move on the ships, Kirstie, who had come back to her own life sent the mental message that the fairies needed to stop and come to her. She became very afraid that they might be injured if they pressed too hard. Even as she feared, a blast of fire like from a flamethrower came from the ships and covered the rocks. The fairies got small and ducked down in the cracks and crevasses, but even so, a few got burned, though none badly.

Kirsti moved carefully toward the rocks where she could look down on the ships. Wilam, Brant and a few of the men followed her, though most of the men kept back with the horses, being spooked by the flames that temporarily covered the rocks.

When Kirstie arrived, she heard from Marsham who also just arrived. “We are not in a good position to charge the ships. They appear to be getting ready to sail.” Even as he thought, one of the ships pulled away from the landing, abandoning the wagons and mules on the rocky shore.

“No,” Kirstie spoke out loud. “And Hassel and Heath are not permitted to go there, either.”

“You better save some for us.” Kirstie heard from Warthog, though he was still some distance away.

“No one is getting a chance,” she spoke out loud. “They are already setting sail. Warthog, you might as well go home. You too Marsham. Thank you for your concern. Maybe next time. Warthog, maybe next time. We were not quick enough this time.”

Kirstie heard Warthog’s colorful language in her head. It sounded much more colorful than her own brief swearing session. “When I get home, I’ll tell Booturn what you said.” Warthog chose not to answer her.

Marsham apologized. “We came as quickly as we could.”

“I know you did” Kirstie continued to talk out loud. The men, other than Brant and Wilam, looked at her with curious faces. “Thank you. Just give a hug to your mother, Letty when you get home.”

“Lady,” Hassel and Heath came to face her, and Hassel looked prepared to get yelled at.

“No,” Kirstie said, even as the fairies came into focus and several of the men backed off. “No yelling. Thank you for rousting out the Vikings. We were too slow getting here. If we caught them on the road and you and Marsham blocked the way to their ships, we might have held them long enough for the men on foot to arrive, and… and Warthog. But they escaped, and now we have to follow them. And Heath, thank you for coming with your husband. You know, I miss your parents. I’m sorry I never saw them with these eyes.”

“Lord,” Hassel acknowledged Wilam.

“Lady,” Heath curtsied in mid-air, and it was about perfect.

Kirstie mumbled, “That is how it is done.”

Wilam turned to her and asked. “What do you mean follow them?”

Medieval 6: K and Y 5 Divorce, part 1 of 2

September 24, 2024August 11, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Wilam and Kirstie spent as much time together as they could over the week his ship was in port. Sadly, it did not amount to much time. Fortunately, it was enough time for Kirstie to know she would say yes when he asked again. She realized how important it was that she decided to divorce Kare first, back when she never expected to see Wilam again.

Wilam left all too soon, but he promised to be back in a year. They had a contract with the village. Kirstie swore the divorce would be settled by the time he returned, but then Kare did not come back to Strindlos for almost the entire year. She heard he returned to Nidaros after a roughly five months of good weather. He stayed there a couple of months, sailed off again for another couple of months before the winter came full on. He landed again in Nidaros and returned to Strindlos only in the early spring. He saw the grain and wool as well as the furs and hides she collected and tanned for trade. He also found the two ivory walrus tusks the dwarfs brought her in early March, around Soren’s fourth birthday.

“They rut in February and the old ones die off then, sometimes,” Booturn said.

Kirstie asked if she could keep Birdie and Missus Kettle for another year. He said, “By all means,” but she could tell he was beginning to miss her. She vowed she would find a cook she could hire, which is how she preferred to think of it, and another woman she might get to do the wool, linen, and the general sewing and constant mending and washing needed around the place.

“Too bad Mother Freyja is not around these days,” she told Yrsa one afternoon when they walked home from visiting Kirstie’s properties. When Yrsa asked why, she said, “Because she could find just the right two women for Thomas and Gustavs, and I would not have to worry about them so much.”

“They seem content,” Yrsa said.

Kirstie agreed. They had no complaints. But content and happy were two different things. “I guess now I have to depend on the Lord to direct my steps,” she said, but did not explain what she meant.

When they got home, Kirstie found Kare rummaging around in the barn and drooling over the ivory, which he found, picked up, and covered with a blanket so no one would know. He started toward the barn door and got caught with the goods. He had to quickly toss them aside.

“Get out,” Kirstie yelled first thing before she even realized he was stealing her stuff.

“What?” He played stupid.

“You no longer have any business being here. I’m divorcing you.”

“What?” He got suddenly serious. “You can’t do that. You are my wife.”

“I can do that, and I am doing that.” She let out some steam. “Get out and don’t come back.”

He got triggered. Kirstie saw the red boil over in Kare’s eyes. He had to have heard about her decision to divorce him and maybe he thought he could talk her out of it, but she knew how to push his buttons. He clearly wanted to hit her but paused when he heard a voice behind him.

“You heard her,” Thomas and Gustavs both stood there, and Thomas had a hoe while Gustavs carried the pitchfork.

“You heard her,” Yrsa mirrored the words and appeared beside Kirstie, her knife in her hand. Booturn also stepped up, and he held an axe as big as himself.

“Get out,” Kirstie yelled again.

“I would do as the lady says,” Booturn spoke calmly.

“Okay. All right. I’m going,” Kare backed down, but he kicked the ivory tusks and slammed the barn door as he left.

Kirstie fought back the angry tears. “He came back to steal my stuff,” she concluded.

“You need to get to Inga, Mother Vrya, and Chief Kerga first thing in the morning,” Yrsa said, showing a remarkable bit of sense. Kirstie nodded and went into the house. When Inga came with Soren, she told Inga what she was going to do.

“I’ll be ready,” Inga said, and Kirstie thanked her. She fed Soren and put him to bed. She crawled into her own bed alone until Soren toddled in and got up in the bed beside his mother. Then Kirstie slept.

When the morning came, when the sun just touched the horizon, Yrsa came to take Soren’s hand. They followed Kirstie who went straight to the Witcher Women. Despite the early hour, Mother Vrya was ready and waiting, and Inga stood with her. They got to the big house in time to see Chief Kerga go in ahead of them.

Chief Kerga had to send two men to fetch Kare. Kare was preparing his ship for departure, and he refused to come on his own, by request, or by an order from the chief, so he had to be brought in. Jarl and Harrold were there to witness along with Mother Vrya and several of the village elders. It did not take long for Kirstie to explain. Kare was unfaithful, a drunk and a thief besides. Yrsa was a witness to his thieving. He tried to walk off with her ivory.

“The word of a woman supporting a woman,” Kare said. “That hardly counts as proof.”

“Thomas and Gustavs were both witnesses, too,” she said.

“The word of thralls? What did you promise them to lie for you?”

“There are other witnesses, but I hesitate to call them. Anyway, it does not matter. You were caught stealing before.”

“What? You have no proof of that.”

“But we do,” Jarl interrupted. He called two men to testify. They were once part of Kare’s crew, but Jarl enticed them to sail on his ship, and they did not take much enticement.

“Yes,” they said. “We were with him last year when he tried to take the grain and wool from the barn. He said it was his to take. We did not know.”

“But it was not his to take,” Kirstie said. “Besides, he sold my thralls, my property without permission. He owes me thirty pieces of silver. Better yet, he should be forced to go and get my thralls back at whatever cost. Besides that, he hit me once, and more important, he hit my son. You all saw the black eye. I know, some men beat their wives and children. Some men take from the family and from their wives and get away with that. Some men even have lovers on the side. But all these added together say I cannot trust him. The marriage is dead and should be ended. Besides that, he never paid the bride price, and for that the marriage should be counted as if it never happened. I would rather have poor Soren be a bastard son than continue in this farce.”

Kare choked on the words “bride price.” He tried to think of some defense, but he had nothing. The beating, the mistress or two, even taking the wife’s property without permission might not of themselves be grounds enough for a divorce; but he forgot all about the bride price. It was too late. He could never pay enough. She would not accept it, and without paying the bride price, they were not really married. He finally said, “But you are the one I was always going to marry. You are my wife.” His anger flared, but he got cut off by Harrold’s words.

“Not anymore.” He looked up, not at Kirstie, but at the ceiling, and said, “Divorce.”

Jarl said “Divorce.”

Mother Vrya and Chief Kerga said, “Divorce,” and the rest of the men said it, though some of them whispered it.

Kare roared. “I’ll be back soon enough, and then we will settle this.” He stomped out of the building.

“It’s already settled.” Kirstie shot after him with her anger. She raced to the door. “I won’t be here when you get back.”

“You had better be.” Kare shouted. “Or I will find out who he is and kill him.”

“No.” Kirstie shook her determined head, her light blond hair going every which way. “It is over between us.”

“You are my wife.” He roared once more.

“Forced.” She growled. “But no more.”

Kare rushed back and his hand came up to slap her face, but Kirstie stood her ground ready to fight him off. “You know what will happen if you ever strike me.” She said in a low, hard voice. She would kill him, and he knew it. He thought better about the slap. With a growl of his own, Kare spun around, raced to his ship and they cast off. As the oars came out and the ship began to pull out into the fjord, Kirstie sat down, right on the dock, and cried. All those years of pent-up frustration, disappointment, and feelings of hopelessness came out all at once.

Medieval 6: K and Y 2 Home, part 2 of 2

September 10, 2024August 10, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Come September, October, and November, when the leaves fell and the days turned cold, Kirstie lightened up on Kare. They had to share the same house and the same bed, and peace was better than war. Kare still threw fits now and then, especially after he discovered Bjorn the Bear’s beer recipe. He was not a happy drunk.

Kare spent much of his time with the shipbuilders. The rest of his time got spent examining the house and barn in every nook and cranny. It did not take long for Kirstie to figure out he was looking for whatever money, silver, or gold she had hidden. He found the beer recipe when he started tearing through the barn.

Kirstie had her bit of money safely hidden. It was not much since she bought those properties next to her own place, but just to be sure, she took what she had and deposited it with the elves who had no use for money. She figured it would not be safe with the dwarfs. They would likely melt down the metal to use for their own purposes. Also, the fairies might keep it, but the risk was too great that they might leave it lying around, unprotected, and accidentally forget about it.

Lord Amber put it in the hallow of a tree and covered it with spells designed to scare away any humans that got too close. He assigned a half-dozen young elves to watch it, which mostly they did. Kirstie said thank you and went straight home. The sky looked like it might snow.

Kirstie stayed home in January. She feared she might slip and fall where the ice covered the path to town. Besides, she started feeling very full, even if Inga still insisted her son would not be born until mid-March. Kare started to get anxious about something, but he would not say what. Sometimes, Kirstie imagined he cared about her and was anxious about her and the baby. Usually, she thought he was anxious about his ship. The builders stopped working about mid-November and would not start up again until after her baby was born. Whatever was bothering him, it only seemed to get worse as the time went on. And in winter, when people spent most of their time indoors, he was often around, brooding over something he refused to talk about.

Things came to a head around the first of March, when Kirstie felt ready to burst. Kare took Fiona and her three sons and sold them to a man in Aurland in Sygnafylki, a completely different province and a long way from Strindlos. He got drunk. He knew she would object, and he did not want to hear it. He hit her and knocked her down. Her hands went straight to her belly to calm her baby and make sure nothing got shaken too badly. She got up slowly. She caught his eye and even drunk, he realized he made a mistake. Kirstie’s words were very cold and directed. “If you ever raise your hand to me again, I will kill you.” He knew she meant it. She might do it, too.

“You just don’t understand,” he yelled, took his money, and left. He stayed in his rundown shack for the entire month of March. Kirstie gave birth on the sixth. She named the boy Soren Kareson, because Kare never even came to see or to name his son.

Much later, Kirstie found out Kare needed the money to make the last payment on his ship. Once the builders were paid, they went back to work and finished it in March. Apparently, some of the delay was waiting for Kare to finish paying for it. On the first of April, Kare gathered his crew and set out on his maiden voyage. “April fool,” Kirstie called him. After he left, she found out that while she was busy being pregnant with Kare’s child, Kare was off having secret rendezvous with a woman named Randi.

Randi came from the town at the mouth of the Nid River when the Vanlil attacked. She lost her young husband and her child when she escaped the fighting. She came to Strindlos with some others, but now most of them were returning to the new town of Nidaros. Maybe that was where the whole idea of migrating to Nidaros started. Kirstie hoped Strindlos would remain a viable village for as long as she lived, but there was no guarantee. If the king came to rebuild his house, he might insist Strindlos, the closest village, be abandoned so the people could fill his adjacent town. If the king built a fortress, he might not have to insist. People would flock to the protected town. Rune and Jarl already had land around the Nid River. The ship builders were mostly there as well. The rest of the people might not be far behind.

Hilda had a boy about a week after Kirstie. She named him Hodur Thorenson. Hilda was happy enough, though Thoren went off sailing with Kare. Thoren had been studying navigation and Kirstie did not imagine Kare would get very far without him. Curiously, Thoren never questioned her for her knowledge about the subject, not to say Kirstie was the only navigator in town.

About the time Hilda went into labor, Kirstie felt strong enough to step outside. She wrapped Soren carefully in plenty of blankets for warmth against the chill and walked to the cooking fires. Birdie introduced her dwarf friend Missus Kettle. Missus Kettle came down from the mountains, a volunteer to cook for the house now that Fiona was gone.

“Thank you,” Kirstie said. “Everything I have had so far has tasted wonderful.”

Missus Kettle grinned. “My husband and his friends, dwarfs you know, I don’t think they chew anything long enough to taste the food. I don’t mind cooking for someone who appreciates it.”

Kirstie smiled and turned to the lords of the woods and hills. Lord Bjork, king of the fairies was there with his wife, Bellflower, their daughter Buttercup, and her husband Meriwood. Booturn the chief dwarf and his crew of a half-dozen fellow dwarfs stood remarkably still and quiet, waiting their turn. Lord Amber and his wife Heather also stood with their daughter Yrsa and her husband Alm. Kirstie turned first to the fairies and Bjork spoke right up.

“The spring is upon us. The young ones have said good-bye to Mother Vrya and the Witcher Women. Buttercup may visit young Inga from time to time, but they have work to do in this world and we have let things go for too long. The grain is ready to be planted. The flowers are beginning to grow in the fields. The snow and ice are leaving the trees and there is much to do. I have told the young ones you will be much happier seeing us attending to the work given to us. We have let things go for too long.” He repeated himself.

“Yes, my friends,” Kirstie agreed. “We all have much to do.”

“We will not be far away if you should need us,” Lord Bjork said.

“The best of blessings on you and your son,” Lady Bellflower said, and they flew off to disappear among the trees.

“Booturn,” Kirstie called to him though he was right there. “Report,” she said, but she could not hold back the smile.

Booturn worried his hat as he spoke. “Me and the boys have done about all we can for your blacksmith, and now that the lady Fiona is moved on, we decided we better move on, too. We want to get back to some real forges and some real work before the dark elves down below come up and steal our things.”

“And don’t you steal theirs either.” Kirstie shook a playful finger at them.

“No. No Mum. Never dream of it…” The dwarfs answered.

“Besides,” Booturn continued. “Smithy Svend is talking about moving his operation to Nidaros, and it makes my feet tired just thinking about walking all that extra distance.”

“Go home, with my thanks and blessing,” Kirstie said. “I will keep Birdie and Missus Kettle for a while if you don’t mind.”

Booturn made a face which might have been a face of hardship, but which looked slyly like a face of relief and joy. He spoke of the hardship, like he was making a great sacrifice. “It won’t be easy without our womenfolk, but I can see you need the help most right now. They can stay as long as they have a mind. We will just have to make do.” He let out a great sigh, but it was not convincing.

“Go on,” Kirstie said. “Skat and have a safe trip home.” Kirstie had to think for a moment before it came to her. “And Booturn. Maybe your daughter will have a son you can leave the family tools to in the future.”

“A grandbaby son?” Booturn puffed out his chest like it was already a done deal. Kirstie looked at Birdie, but Birdie answered her unspoken question like she was reading Kirstie’s mind.

“My baby does not want her mother interfering. I’ll see the boy when she brings him for a visit, and then I’ll spoil him rotten and she will have to deal with that.” Birdie turned back to her loom without so much as a crack in her serious expression, but Missus Kettle grinned to think of it.

Booturn frowned and cleared his throat. “Come on boys,” he said, and they also vanished in the woods.

Kirstie turned to Lord Amber, but Amber pointed first to Vortesvin who stood there quietly, straw hat in his hand, which he pretty much tore to pieces while he waited. Kirstie imagined she saw a tear in the old troll’s eye. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak, so she did, though it broke her heart to say it.

“You know, you cannot follow Fiona and the boys. Fiona’s life will be but a breath of years, and the boys not much longer. As for Sibelius, though he will not live as long as a full blood troll, we may hope he will live long enough to see his father again.”

“I was good,” Vortesvin said. “I did not fight or anything when your man took them away.”

“You were very good, and I thank you for that.”

Vortesvin nodded and looked in the direction the dwarfs went. “I think I will go home to the mountains again. I will remember Fiona, and the boys, and my son, and be glad that I know what love is.” He wiped his nose with his arm and shouted, “Hey. Wait up,” and he crashed into the trees, running after the dwarfs.

Kirstie looked at Lord Amber again and wiped the tears from her eyes. Lord Amber smiled to be reminded just how much Kirstie loved all of her little ones, even the ones that were not so little. Then he thought he better speak.

“While you were busy with your new son, I took the liberty over this last month to seek out possible tenants for the two properties you bought. I was discreet.” He nodded at the path toward town. In the remarkable timing the little ones often displayed, Kirstie saw a small crowd coming up the path and headed toward the house.

Medieval 6: K and Y 2 Home, part 1 of 2

September 9, 2024August 10, 2024M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Kirstie

Kare tried. Kirstie could tell. He tried really hard to be good, but it was not in him. He was a demanding kind of person who had little sensitivity for those he considered beneath him. Kirstie and Kare argued from the beginning. She had to regularly remind him that she was not his thrall. Alm, the head elf, Yrsa’s husband, had a long talk with the man one afternoon, and after that, he left Alm and the volunteer elves completely alone, and he avoided Yrsa as much as possible.

Birdie the dwarf wife ignored the man. She kept working her loom and ignored everything he said. Kare eventually figured the old woman had to be deaf, and she was not worth bothering with.

Fiona, Kirstie’s thrall, and her boys Oswald, Edwin, and baby Sibelius were a special problem. Vortesvin scared Kare to death every time their paths crossed. Kare saw Vortesvin as a giant, which was bad enough. Kare never pierced the glamour that Vortesvin wore, which was just as well. The giant looked like an extra tall human, and his mind could discount much of what was seen. Seeing the actual troll might have caused Kare to run off screaming. Several times Kirstie thought that might be worth it. Of course, the fact that Kare could not see the troll told Kirstie, and everyone else who knew about such things, that much as she tried, Kirstie could not find any love for Kare. The elves, dwarfs, fairies, trolls, and all the rest of the little ones Kirstie had responsibility for would not harm Kare in any way, since he was her husband, but they would not be inclined to be kind to the man either.

Fiona and the boys were tied to Vortesvin, which frustrated Kare. The boys were learning to work the farm and did a good job for their young ages. Kare figured the older they got, the better they would work. He seriously thought about selling them for the money. Kirstie could just cover the work with her friends, as she called them. Vortesvin was the only snag in the scheme. The giant was not his to sell, and he figured Sibelius, the giant’s child might fall into that category. Though Sibelius was also the child of Fiona, so he might be counted as a thrall. Kare would have to find out the rules about such things.

~~~*~~~

Around the first of July, Kirstie confirmed that she was pregnant. She felt certain when she missed her period for the second time in the middle of the month. Her childhood friend Hilda became pregnant around the same time and she and Thoren, Kare’s friend, were excited. Kirstie and Kare argued to the point where Kirstie would not let him touch her. Kirstie blamed her one-night-stand honeymoon. Anyway, Inga confirmed the diagnosis.

“That will put my baby’s birthday around March first,” Kirstie said.

“More like the middle of March,” Inga countered. “Same as Hilda.”

“The ides of March. How appropriate,” Kirstie said, without explaining.

“Anyway,” Inga continued. “By mid-March, the days should begin to warm, and in the spring, there should be plenty to eat after the slim winter. You might not have to worry about such things, but many families do. Most of the children who die in their first year are the ones born from November to February when food is scarce.

~~~*~~~

Kirstie and Inga went to visit Hilda, and Hilda came running to hug them both. Hilda was so happy. Kirstie tried extra hard not to be jealous. She felt bad about saying something to break the good feelings.

“Have you heard from Liv?”

“That was the most terrible thing,” Hilda said. “When you were on your way home, Liv’s farm got attacked and both her mother and father were slaughtered, torn to pieces, and Liv was the only survivor. I understand she was covered in the blood of her parents, which Chief Kerga says is why the killers did not kill her. She looked like she was already dead.”

“They never found who did it, or why,” Inga added.

“Some of the men think it was an animal, like a monster bear. Mother Vrya says there is more to it than that, but she does not know what.”

“And she moved in with cousins in Varnes?” Kirstie wanted to get the story straight.

“Yes, she did,” Hilda said. “And no, I have not heard anything from her lately.”

~~~*~~~

After hugging her friend and wishing her the best, Kirstie went with Inga to visit the Witcher Women. Mother Vrya was resting. She did that more and more as she aged, but when they came in, she sat up and said something Inga and Kirstie did not know. “Look at you,” she said to Kirstie. “Eighteen. All grown up, and married, and now going to have a baby. You know, I was married once.”

Inga and Kirstie looked at each other. They could not picture it. “Yes,” Mother Vrya insisted. “We were in love. We had no children, and I do not think my husband was unhappy, but when the call to arms went out from the sons of Ragnar Lodbrok, he answered the call. He did not live long. I grieved terribly. I went up into the mountains and thought to throw myself off from the highest cliff, but there, the spirits came to me, and I found myself.”

“Inga. You sing to the earth and the sky, and the great spirits of the old ways listen. I do not speak of the little spirits of the earth, air, fire, and water that follow Kirstie around, but the great spirits of old, even Mother Freyja herself. You are brilliant, quick to grasp many things and your understanding of much surpasses my own, but still, you have not found yourself. One day, perhaps. I ask the Mother Goddess of all the Volva to be gracious to you.”

“Kirstie.” Mother Vrya paused as if she could not quite reach the thing she was after. “Kristina. A name not known among the people. Your good mother named you after the new way unknown to us. She was a light in this dark world and the whole community mourned when she was taken from us.” She paused again to frame her words. “You know things only the gods know. I have seen it in the wind, the clouds, and the stars. And yet, I do not know if you will ever find yourself. You have been given too much for a young child. Too much is expected from you, and you expect too much from yourself. Much too much.” Mother Vrya shut her eyes and laid back down, turning on her side to turn her back to them.

Inga and Kirstie got the message. They left quietly and went to the cooking fire of the Witcher Women. The fairies Buttercup and Daphne were arguing about something. The poor old widow was trying to cook and keep her ears plugged at the same time. Kirstie pointed at Buttercup, the poor old woman, and Daphne in that order, and she named them. “Bubble-bubble, toil, and trouble.”

“I’m not trouble,” Daphne insisted.

“You are if you won’t let this poor woman do her work.”

“But it needs more salt,” Daphne said.

“It has too much salt,” Buttercup countered.

“You need to let the cook decide that.” Kirstie said. “You need to come with us. My baby is telling me we need to go home and rest for a bit. Besides,” Kirsti spoke to Buttercup. “Meriwood is missing you.”

“I know,” Buttercup responded. “But he is hunting with Alm and the boys right now. I don’t want to watch.”

Daphne flew straight to Kirstie’s belly, and Buttercup joined her. Kirstie felt the warmth as the fairies reached out to touch the baby inside her without actually touching her. “Maybe it is a girly,” Daphne said.

“No,” Buttercup countered. “She is having a boy.”

“Do you want to know what your baby will be?” Daphne asked, though the fairies already told her several times.

Kirstie turned to Inga. “Just as well,” she said. “I don’t think Kare could handle a girl.”

Inga understood, and they trudged back to Kirstie’s home.

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