Elves

Medieval 5: Genevieve 3 Troubles Ever After, part 2 of 3

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The rest of the week was wonderful, the nightmare all but forgotten, but after that week, Charles got busy. It would be some time before things got hectic, but he had more than enough duties to keep him occupied. Genevieve moved out of the room and Charles temporarily panicked.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m just moving down the hall. I can’t exactly go home. Margo and Nelly collected my few pitiful things from the house. They told Mother Ingrid they were contracted as maids for the countess. I bet that made Mother Ingrid steaming mad. Meanwhile, Matthild and Otl have agreed to continue to take care of Mother Ingrid and the girls, at least for the time being. Matthild basically just cooks and Otl hammers a lot on the barn, the stables, and the house, and takes care of the grounds, but all outside. Otherwise, it looks like Gisela and Ursula are going to have to do a little work, like cleaning and laundry. It won’t hurt them. They might lose a few pounds. I am sure Mother Ingrid would not want to pay what it would actually cost for some real help around the house. But for me, seriously, I don’t know where I can go. I can’t go home…”

Charles coughed, and Genevieve learned when he coughed in that way he meant for her to take a breath. She looked up at him. “You are moving down the hall?”

She nodded. “The other side of Uncle Bernard’s room,” she said and started up again. “You are going to need your rest, and let’s be honest, neither of us has gotten much rest in this past week. But don’t worry. I will be there for you for as long as you want me or need me to be. I mean, I can’t exactly marry you. You have a wife. You love your wife?” She asked that before and he nodded like before.

“She wiggles.”

“I don’t need the details. You know, love is more than just sex. As long as you love your wife, I am sure you will be happy. I hope you have lots of lovely children together.” Her voice trailed off when someone came to the open door. It was Uncle Bernard.

“Ready?” Bernard said in a cheerful voice that made Genevieve privately frown.

Edelweiss came shooting in the doorway, right by Bernard, and came to hover over the bed. “Did you tell him?” She was excited about something.

“No. Not yet.” Genevieve paused and gave the fairy a sour look. Of course, by then Bernard and the generals knew all about the fairy. It was a kindness to Edelweiss to let her get little and not have to remain in her big size for long periods of time, something that is hard for a little fairy to do. They also got to meet Edelweiss’ father, Lord Evergreen, who promised to scout ahead when Charles got the army gathered and moved toward Italy. Margo and Nelly were still seen as young women, more like Genevieve’s maids than just friends. but elves had less trouble appearing human. They could affect a simple glamour and walk through the marketplace without notice, or without undue attention. The young men might notice. Elf maids were notoriously pretty. However, they were not fairy beautiful, which was a kind of unearthly beauty that was hard for some humans to take in, much less describe.

“Ready,” Genevieve said in a sour voice to match the look on her face.

“What?” Bernard asked.

“What is it?” Charles echoed.

Genevieve picked up her little bag, hardly an oversized purse and put it on her shoulder. She grumped, “I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“How do you know?” Charles asked.

“I thought it took a month or two months to determine that,” Bernard said.

“Lady is going to have a baby,” Edelweiss said and fluttered down to put her little hands just beyond Genevieve’s middle. “Can’t tell boy or girl yet. It is too early for that, but I can feel the growing.” Edelweiss flew up to face Charles. “You are going to have a baby.”

Charles shouted for joy and jumped up and down. He started to sing but stopped quickly when both Genevieve and Bernard gave him a sour look. Edelweiss wrinkled her whole face, but then she smiled, being caught up in the emotion of it all.

Genevieve stomped to the door, handed her purse to Bernard, told Edelweiss to visit with Uncle Bernard for a minute and said to Charles, “Get in here, you moron.” Charles stopped jumping and came sheepishly into the room while Genevieve slammed the door and yelled. “What is wrong with you?”

“What?” Charles stood up tall and straight. “I thought you wanted a baby,” he yelled back.

“I did. I do. But you are married and I am not. I expected to get married.”

“What? You did not want to have my baby?”

“That is not it. I am glad the baby is yours, but a bastard son or daughter is not a good thing. What are you going to tell your wife? You were busy having a baby so I went off to find a little tart to get pregnant?”

“I don’t think of you that way. You should not think of yourself that way.”

“I should ask Father Flaubert to give me a whipping.”

“The nice old priest would not do it.”

“But Charles.” Genevieve began to cry softly. “What am I going to do? I can’t go home. I have no husband. Your poor baby and I will be living on the street, begging.” She ran at Charles, grabbed him around the middle, and as she hugged him, she wept into his chest.

“Hush,” he said. “It will be all right,” he said. “We will figure it out. you’ll see. Hush.”

~~~*~~~

One week later, Charles made some time and took Genevieve for a quiet walk along the riverbank. She pointed out all the birds and flowers and said how nice the river had been that year.

“Nary a flood to speak of.”

Charles nodded for most of it, but when he spoke it was on a different subject. “I’m still thinking about your future,” he said. “Not just anyone will do, and I say that for you, not just for the baby.”

“Sir Heffen of Strasbourg asked for my hand,” she said, trying to be helpful. “He is still single as far as I know.”

“No,” he said as they came to a spot and sat where they could watch the lazy water flow by. “You need to marry someone with a higher station than a mere knight.”

“My father was a knight before your father gave him the county to defend.”

“Besides, Heffen may have been one of those in on the negotiations between the Lombards and my brother in Burgundy.”

“Well,” she said. “How about the Baron of Stuttgart? He once spoke to Mother Ingrid concerning his son. The boy is my age, or maybe sixteen, but Mother Ingrid said the eldest should marry first, but he had no interest in Ursula.”

“No, no.” Charles said. “A young man would know soon enough the baby is not his and he might put you away, or worse. No, the right one is out there. We just need to find him.”

“Hopefully before our baby is old enough to be knighted himself,” she said, and he laughed.

They kissed but got interrupted by a war cry. A man charged up the riverbank, a battleax held firmly in his hands. He did not reach the couple. The assassin fell only a few yards away. His battleax slipped from his hands but went wide, struck the ground, and slid a short way toward the river. The man had three arrows in him. Margo and Nelly came running up, bows in their hands. The third arrow came from Lord Evergreen who kindly took on the human appearance of a hunter dressed in hunter green. Charles and Genevieve were on their feet.

“My lord,” Evergreen offered a small bow to Charles and turned to Genevieve. “My lady. We have been watching. You might not know. To the contrary of his normal routine, Mister Lupen left after three days and is now half-way down the Swiss plateau, well out of reach, but only two workmen went with him and his son. This third one stayed presumably to watch their goods and with the idea that Mister Lupen would return in a month with additional goods for sale.”

“You did not trust that explanation,” Charles concluded and Lord Evergreen nodded.

Genevieve went to look. It was not a pretty sight, but she identified the man as the dark one. She added a thought, “Baldy and Blondy are still out there.”

“Maybe Mister Lupen will not dare to come back here,” Nelly suggested, and Margo looked hopeful, but Genevieve shot down that idea.

“He can always say Darky volunteered to stay. He can claim his family does not involve themselves in politics and he had no idea Darky was such a partisan. He can say if he had known, he never would have left Darky here to watch his things, and it was terrible what the man tried to do. For shame.”

“Not that we would believe him,” Charles said.

“But you would have no proof otherwise,” she finished, and took Charles’ arm for the walk back to town.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 2 Prince Charming, part 3 of 4

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Charles paused briefly before he stepped up beside her. “I see no reason why a couple of soldiers might not escort a fine young woman to town and back. I mean, now that the horses are cared for.”

Genevieve glanced back once at the two men following, one old and one young, before she looked up at Charles who kept grinning at her. “You are their captain?” she asked and Charles nodded. “A bit young for a captain,” she concluded and started walking before her feet froze in that spot.

“I’ll be twenty-eight in a week—maybe a month or so,” he said defensively. “How old do you think a captain should be?”

Genevieve shrugged. “I will be eighteen in a month or so. Ursula is already eighteen. Gisela won’t be sixteen until the fall. We are not married, though. Mother Ingrid keeps talking about making an advantageous marriage.” Genevieve shrugged again.

“Your sisters? Mother Ingrid?”

“Stepsisters. Mother Ingrid is my stepmother.”

“You are not a servant in the house?”

Genevieve shook her head this time. “Father Flaubert explained it all to me just three Sundays ago after Mass. Mother Ingrid and my sisters went into the market while Father Flaubert pulled me aside. He has a copy of the papers in the church, and he showed me. Father left everything to me, the land, the house, and all. That technically make me the countess, though Mother Ingrid uses the title, even if it is not hers to use. You see, my mother died when I was four, and father remarried before he went off to fight for King Pepin and got himself killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Long time ago.” Genevieve returned Charles’ smile.

“So, why are you fetching the eggs?” Charles asked, honestly enough.

“I like to eat?” she tried, but Charles shook his head in a definite no.

“It is a long story,” Genevieve said. He indicated that he would listen, a good sign in Genevieve’s book since she liked to talk. She began with the phrase, “Stop me if you heard this one…” and proceeded to tell the whole Cinderella story, including the part about the fairy godmother, the ball, and the slipper. She ended with, “Of course, I don’t expect Prince Charming to show up any time soon, so I get to be servant for a while longer, anyway.”

“That is not right,” Charles drew his own conclusion. “I would not blame you if you threw the woman and her daughters out and took back your home.” Genevieve shook her head, so Charles asked, “What?”

Genevieve looked down. They had reached the town and stopped walking so it was easy to watch her slippers shuffle in the dirt. She had to shuffle them to keep her toes from freezing. “First of all, I’m not grown up yet. I’m old enough to marry and have children, but not exactly what you would call full grown. Father’s will says I get the house and property when I am eighteen, and the outlying farms and serfs and the rest of the county when I am twenty-one. I am sure he imagined I would be married by then, and Mother Ingrid’s daughters would also be married. Secondly, Mother Ingrid has sold everything she can and spent all the money on frivolous things for Ursula and Gisela, so there is not much to inherit. And third,” she looked up at Charles. “I could not do that to them. That would be cruel. They have nowhere else to go.”

Charles smiled. “I can see your heart is as beautiful as your face and form.”

Genevieve’s face turned a little red, easy to see beneath her blonde locks. “I can see your tongue is as glib as you are tall,” she responded.

Charles coughed and put on a more serious face. “So, there is one part of your story I do not understand. The fairy godmother part. The way you tell the story makes it sound like one of those fantasy stories they tell little children. I was never a big fan of those stories, even when I was a little child. I believe there are enough miraculous things on God’s green earth, things we hardly understand. We don’t have to go making up more things like fairies and elves and such.”

“A realist,” Genevieve called him. She gave him a knowing look, so once again he asked.

“What?”

“Would you like to meet my fairy godmother, well, my fairy friend?” Her smile turned to a big grin. “Are you brave enough to let your whole view of the world be shaken?” He looked at her, not sure what to say, and she called, “Edelweiss.”

A young woman stepped out from behind a building. She was fairy beautiful but she did not appear at all fairy-like.

“Fairy?” Charles said in his skeptical best.

Genevieve ignored the young man. “Edelweiss. Would you visit my shoulder please.”

“Lady. Is that wise?” Edelweiss asked. She looked around the area near enough to the market where plenty of people were coming and going.

“It is safe,” Genevieve responded. “This is Charles. He’s a friend.” She looked up. “You are a friend.” She made the question into a statement.

“I hope to be a very good friend,” he said.

Genevieve secretly smiled, but tapped her shoulder and said, “Come, come.” Edelweiss needed no more encouragement. She took her fairy form, and wings fluttering flew to Genevieve’s shoulder and took a seat where she could at least hide in Genevieve’s hair.

Charles shrieked, as Genevieve spoke.

“As a future friend of mine once said, there are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” Genevieve took Charles’ hand and his smile returned. “And just to be clear,” she said. “Margo and Nelly. They must be around here somewhere. I met them about eighteen months—almost two years ago when I was at a very low point and feeling very sorry for myself. I’m not like that, normally. I am usually very upbeat and positive. Only sometimes, I find my life circumstances rather depressing. Margo. Nelly.” She called.

“I don’t blame you, given your circumstances,” Charles said, as he looked down at her hand in his.

“Here we are,” two more young women shouted and came running.

“Lady. You have company,” Nelly said.

“We weren’t sure if it was safe to show ourselves,” Margo added.

“They are elves,” she said frankly to Charles. She lifted her free hand so he could see them without their glamours of humanity. She lowered it again while Edelweiss hung on by pulling gently on her hair. “Just to be clear,” she added with a grin, glad that he did not shriek that time.

“I see you have some interesting friends,” Charles said and looked up. It had begun to drizzle. “I’ll have to ask you more about that, later. Right now, we need to get under shelter. I also need to find an inn where we can house Bernard and the others. I assume your home might not be the best accommodations.”

“I know just the place,” Genevieve said, and did not hesitate to drag him half-way across town. They got inside just before the rain started in earnest. Genevieve had to let go of Charles to shake out her shawl. Edelweiss had to get down and get big. She did so behind Margo and Nelly so as to be hidden. Genevieve raised her voice. “Beltram.”

“You are good at calling for others I see.”

“My captain. You know asking quietly gets you nowhere. Beltram! Oh, there you are.” The man came sleepily from the back room.

“Ah, lovely Genevieve. Always a pleasure. How can I help you?” the man said, as his wife came up behind him to peek around his shoulder.

“I have a captain here who wants to rent your entire inn. All ten rooms.” she turned to Charles. “You do want the whole thing, yes?” Charles paused and looked up like he was counting before he nodded. “The whole inn,” she repeated. “And I want a good price. I don’t want you to gouge my friends.”

“For how long?” Beltram began to wake up.

Genevieve paused to look up at Charles. “For how long?”

“Month,” Charles said. “First of April we need to move to Basel and first of May, or at least sometime in May we move into Italy.”

“March,” Genevieve said with a bit of a smile. “I am sure you can accommodate them for the whole month.” She pulled out two silver coins that Bernard gave her and told Charles. “Bernard slipped me some extra for the eggs and other things Mother Ingrid wanted.” She grasped them and returned to face Beltram. “So, can you get everything ready by morning. They are presently at the manor house, but I doubt they will come down here in the rain before morning.” Genevieve and some of the others looked out the window in the main room.

“Ruppert,” Beltram’s wife, Liesel called. It started to come down hard and Beltram’s young son had to go out to close the shutters.

Medieval 5: Genevieve 2 Prince Charming, part 1 of 4

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The year 772 was an exceptionally good year. The fall harvest from the farm paid very well. Genevieve tried not to imagine her elf and fairy friends had anything to do with that, but they might have. “So, the army is buying up all the food,” Genevieve surmised.

“Who cares,” Gisela said.

“As long as we get the money,” Ursula said. “I need a new dress.” She looked at her mother.

“I wonder who they are going to war with,” Genevieve said out loud.

“Not our concern,” Mother Ingrid responded before she had a second thought. “Unless they come this way.” She seemed to be thinking hard. “Clean up the kitchen,” she told Genevieve and wandered off to do some heavy thinking.

In the end, Mother Ingrid hired an older couple who were in fact gnomes, or house elves, or brownies of some sort depending on who was describing them, not that Mother Ingrid or the girls ever suspected. Honestly, it was all Genevieve could get based on what Mother Ingrid was willing to pay. The old man, Otl would clean up the barn and the grounds. The old woman, Matthild would keep the kitchen and cook. Genevieve still had the housecleaning and the laundry and such, but the old woman helped a bit and that was some relief. In truth, the old man and the old woman were especially kind to Genevieve, at least when Mother Ingrid and the girls were not around, but that was easy because Genevieve, despite everything, had grown into a kind and caring person—very Cinderella-like.

Around the beginning of March in the following year of 773, Genevieve, in good Cinderella fashion, was cleaning out the big kitchen fireplace which backed up to the fireplace in the sitting room. They used the same chimney. The kitchen fireplace was nearly always lit for cooking purposes, but when there was no fire in either, as was the case when Genevieve had to clean them out, what was said in one room would echo into the other, not loudly, but discernable if you were in the actual fireplace. Mother Ingrid could easily be heard.

“Genevieve will be eighteen soon enough, and there are some in town who will make sure she takes full possession of the house and property.”

“But Mother,” Ursula whined. “What does that mean for us?”

“It means no more shopping,” Gisela answered. “No more jewels, or clothes, or fine things for us.”

“Oh,” Ursula let out a small wail. She sounded like she did not like that idea. “But Mother, if we were married we could have husbands who could provide for us.”

“If I could find you husbands… I thought to place you in an advantageous position but that is not going to happen…” Mother Ingrid did not explain.

“Maybe if Genevieve married.” Gisela was thinking. “Maybe her husband could take her away and we could have this place for ourselves.”

“No!” Mother Ingrid practically shouted. “I have had three proposals for Genevieve’s hand, two knights and one baron, and I turned them all down. I even tried to say the eldest needs to marry first and turn the baron to Ursula, but he wanted no part of that.”

“But Mother.” Gisela had some brains but she tended to get stuck on her own idea. “If Genevieve married…”

“No,” Mother Ingrid said more softly in her calm-the-distraught-child voice. “Genevieve would have a son and lay claim to all this county forever. No. She will die an old maid as far as I am concerned, and before twenty-one, if possible.”

“Why twenty-one?” Ursula asked. It sounded like Ursula was trying to think. The poor girl would just give herself a headache.

“Because, even if she inherits the manor house at eighteen, I still control the tenant properties, the income, and taxes until she is twenty-one. She may have to have an accident before she takes it all,” Mother Ingrid said, without spelling out what kind of accident she had in mind.

Genevieve heard footsteps away from the fireplace and rushed to the water basin where she could clean her face and hands up to the elbows. She pushed her blonde locks behind her ears and grabbed a cloth and the wood oil jug and hurried to the dining room. “Genevieve,” she heard Mother Ingrid yell up the stairs assuming Genevieve was up there making the beds.

Genevieve glanced at the kitchen door where she saw Matthild stick her head into the dining room. She had come back in from doing the morning dishes and mouthed the words, “I’ll finish the fireplace.” Genevieve nodded her thanks as an impatient Mother Ingrid called again.

“Genevieve.”

“Here, Mother,” Genevieve responded sweetly and came from the dining room door into the entrance hall.

Mother Ingrid paused to look at the sitting room and back at the dining room as if judging the distance and wondering if maybe Genevieve overheard. She pretended Genevieve had not heard, and Genevieve betrayed no emotions to indicate otherwise. “You need to go into town and get a dozen eggs,” Mother Ingrid said and went back into the sitting room without another thought.

Genevieve brushed herself off and took her shawl from the hook. It was not the warmest shawl, just better than nothing. She looked down at her slippers. Boots would be nice for slushing through the snow that still clung to the roadway, but she did not have any boots. She borrowed Gisela’s big boots once and got in big trouble. She imagined her feet would be half-frozen by the time she got to town.

Genevieve followed Mother Ingrid into the sitting room and stuck her hand out. She said nothing. Mother Ingrid all but growled but went to the bureau in the corner where she kept a few coins in the top drawer. No one knew where Mother Ingrid kept her main stash of money.

“That is all there is,” she said as she put a few pitiful pennies in Genevieve’s hand. “You need to bargain better.”

Genevieve kept her hand out and frowned at the meagre funds. She would be lucky to get two eggs for that little. She put the coins in the pocket of her dress and went to the door without argument. She would figure something out, or she would get a beating.

Genevieve waded through the thin layer of snow to the front gate and only once shrugged her shawl up tighter around her neck. Her mind focused on what she heard. She would never be allowed to marry. She would never be allowed to have children of her own. She stiffened her lips, not just from the cold, and her shoulders began to droop but pulled back up against the wind. Her warmest outfit was not much help when the cold wind blew. She stopped at the gate when a group of men rode up and stopped on the other side of the fence. The old man out front made a comment.

“This is the place. I am fairly sure. It was thirteen years ago, you understand.”

Genevieve looked up and looked closely at the face. There seemed something familiar about the face, and Margueritte, her immediate past life blurted out the name. “Bernard.”

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

MONDAY

King Charles (Charlemagne) arrives and surprises Genevieve. Until then, Happy Reading

*

A Holiday Journey 17

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When Chris got up in the morning, he found himself dressed in his clothes from home. He recognized the little hole in his jeans and the stain at the bottom of his flannel shirt.  His down jacket was not from 1812, but he assumed the hay and the barn he sat in were, so he figured he did not go home in the night. Besides, back home, Merry would be in her own apartment, and not laying comfortably beside him.

“So, this has not all been just a dream,” he mumbled.

“Like a dream come true,” Merry whispered before she opened her eyes and said, “Good morning.”

Chris leaned over and gave her a small peck on her lips before he said, “Morning. Plum said Lilly was in this place. Stick close, I have a feeling things may get weird before we get there…weirder.”

Plum came from the fire.  “We got bacon, eggs, and whiskey soaked beans for breakfast,” he said, and let out a big smile.  “We got a long way to go to reach the tree, so eat up.”

“Weirder,” Chris repeated.

Merry took him by the arm.  “I have no intention of leaving your side.  Not ever, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Chris said, and let out a little smile.  “But you could wait until I ask.”

“Yes…” Merry said, and added, “Just practicing.”

Chris nodded, dropped her arm, and got a plate of breakfast.  Roy found some real coffee, and Chris blessed him before he thought to put Plum on the spot.

“She is still in this time zone, near as I can tell,” Plum said.

“Near as you can tell?”

“She is. She certainly is.  I would know if she was not in this zone.  The thing is, she is at the far end, and she might slip away at any time.  That is a long way to go.  We should get moving.”  Plum did not want to say any more.  He appeared afraid of once again saying too much.  Chris did not push the issue, as long as they had a chance of catching up with Lilly by nightfall.

Merry came up, riding on the back of a horse.  She looked like she knew what she was doing, while Chris never rode a horse before.  Chris quickly looked around.  He figured he might manage a motorcycle, but he felt unsure about going on horseback. Fortunately, Roy got his attention and pointed.  They had a wagon pulled by two of the largest horses Chris ever imagined.  A mount appeared tied to the back of the wagon. Chris assumed that was Roy’s horse, in case he needed it.  He took a deep breath and climbed aboard, and slid down to let Roy get up.

Chris looked in the back of the wagon, and along with all of his things—their things, he saw plenty of blankets, pots and pans, and another bag of beans beside a slab of bacon.  He shrugged. He imagined there were not many options for food they could carry across country.  The curious thing was the evergreen.  They carried a young tree, its roots tied up neatly in burlap.  Chris wondered what it might be for, when Roy shouted, and the horses began to strain.  The wagon jerked, before it settled into a slowly increasing pace.  Chris figured they would never go fast.  He imagined most of the day would be spent going across country.  Still, he would not have minded a seatbelt, and maybe a cushion for his seat.

Chris noticed they picked up a few fellow travelers.  Three men on horseback drove a dozen cows into the wilderness.  He looked close.  One looked like the German officer from the World War One time period. The other two looked like the British soldiers that followed him out of the trench; though one might have been the sergeant.  Chris shook his head.  No matter what they looked like, he imagined they were Christmas elves of some kind. No doubt there to give some colorful backdrop to his journey.

Chris turned to Roy, who seemed to concentrate wholly on driving the team of horses.  He felt glad Plum did not drive the rig.  Plum would have talked his ear off all day and not said anything worth hearing. Roy, by contrast, seemed a man of few words.  Chris feared it might be hard to get the man to talk at all.

“So, where exactly are we headed?” Chris asked.

“The Clausen Christmas tree,” Roy answered readily enough.

“Clausen? Santa Claus?”

“Clausen,” Roy nodded.  “Old Dutch family out of New York.  They first settled in New Amsterdam around 1660.  They remembered Sinterklaas, though Kris Kringle carried the Spirit of Christmas in those days.  Since 1600, I believe.  I was rather young at the time.”

Chris had to think about that before he asked, “What happened?”

“After the French and Indian War, when things settled down on the frontier, the family emigrated to Pennsylvania.  Then came the Revolutionary War, and in 1811, when it looked like another war on the horizon, Mister and Missus Clausen emigrated down into Indiana Territory. They thought to escape the war. They did not count on all the trouble with the Shawnee Confederation.”

Chris shook his head.  “Why can’t people live in peace?”

Roy shrugged.  “The Clausens went west, and on Christmas eve, 1811, they ran into a massive snow storm. That should happen tonight…” Roy shrugged again.

Chris asked no more.  He did not dare.  He got down when they stopped for lunch, and tried to smile for Merry while he rubbed his sore bottom.  Merry, at least, appeared to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

“You could ride with me,” she offered, but Chris shook his head.  He would only get hurt trying to ride a horse.

“You enjoy yourself,” he said.  “Just say a prayer for my bruised backside.”

“Oh, poor baby,” she said, honestly enough.  She returned his kiss from earlier before she let go and got them some lunch.

Chris spent the afternoon looking for the Clausen Christmas tree, not having the least idea what that might look like.  The temperature dropped, and he saw the clouds pull in overhead.  Then he saw something that surprised him for all of a second.  He decided he really should not have been surprised.  The cattle being driven by the three cowboys were not cattle at all. They were reindeer, and Chris wondered why there were twelve and not eight, and they did not look too tiny.

Chris looked at Roy and saw the slightest grin on Roy’s face.  “You should see the tree soon, if the clouds give a break,” Roy said.  “No sunset tonight behind the clouds, but the tree should brighten things up nice until the snow starts to get thick.”

Chris nodded.  Nothing should surprise him at this point.  He was going to find Lilly, safe in the hands of Santa Claus—Clausen.  He fell madly in love with an elf—a Christmas elf. And there were three elf cowboys presently herding a dozen reindeer.  “Seven of us,” he said to Roy.  “There are seven of us on this journey.”  Roy nodded, and Chris continued.  “The magnificent seven,” he said, and squinted.  There appeared to be a light in the distance.  He expected it would be the most magnificent Christmas tree ever, and somehow, he knew he would not be disappointed.

 

Cue: O Christmas Tree

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

When Chris got down from the wagon and stretched his back, Merry dismounted and ran to him.  She threw her arms around him and spouted, “It is beautiful.  It is so beautiful.”  The tree certainly was, with all the lights and ornaments up to the star and angel on the very top.  Chris could not exactly see the top from where he stood, being up close, but that did not matter.  He looked at Merry, and thought she was beautiful.

Avalon 9.2 The Called, part 1 of 6

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After 1437 A.D. Aragon and Castile

Kairos lifetime 113: Catherine, La Halcon

Recording …

The sun rose over the Mediterranean gleaming golden bright and reflecting off the water of the bay.  The travelers came out squinting, facing the water, and had to turn quickly to put their backs to the glare.  The spires of the cathedral nearby reached up into the cloudless sky and also glared in the early morning sun, but the cathedral itself, though hardly a stone’s throw away, was hard to see through the narrow streets and buildings that surrounded it.  There were people around at that early hour.  Poor fishermen were preparing for a day at sea, and merchants of all sorts were headed for the docks and getting ready to open their stalls and begin hawking their wares.  Fortunately, the travelers came out of the time gate in a garden, which was actually a cemetery, so they had room to move, and as the time gate faced the sea, it might have looked like they came riding out of the sun itself.

Only one priest faced them.  He stood nearby in the shade of a tree, speaking to several families, presumed parishioners.  It seemed likely only the priest saw them appear out of a hole in the air, and he only stopped speaking and looked up when Ghost came through and bucked, something the mule never did.  The priest certainly saw something, but by the time the people with him looked, the travelers were through, and the time gate quickly closed.

The priest pulled his cloak tight against the cold winter wind.  “Pardon me.”  He told his families to wait and came right up to the travelers with an odd question. “And what planet have you come from?”  An old man followed the priest.

“Earth,” Lockhart said.

“Planet Earth,” Katie echoed.

“Human,” Lincoln raised his hand like he did in France while his eyes stayed focused on the database.

“Why would you ask such an odd question?” Elder Stow wondered even as Tony tried not to curse at Ghost in front of the priest.

“You are not more Galabans from the planet Galabar?”  He seemed to indicate the people behind him.

“No,” Lockhart said.  “We are human.  Who are the Galabans?”

The old man who stepped up to join the priest spoke.  “We are,” he admitted in a friendly tone.  “We are refugees from our world and hope we may be allowed to make a small settlement on your lovely planet.”  He smiled a human enough smile as Elder Stow turned his scanner on the families.  “Our world became a battle ground between two peoples.  They ruined the world and not many of us survived, but we learned something from the wreckage they left behind.  We saw images of your world and the people here, and thought, you are very much like us.  We came here.  We have nowhere else to go.”

The Galabans appeared light red, leaning toward a light violet in skin color but they wore mostly yellow or pale blue or pale green clothes which further washed out their skin color making them look human enough.  There were no doubt other differences that might be picked out on closer examination, but Elder Stow spoke up to resolve all doubt.

“Definitely not human,” he said.  “Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Where is your ship?” Lockhart asked the logical question as Lincoln looked up from his reading.  Only Sukki kept her eyes on the people in the streets.  Katie stared at the old man.  Nanette focused her attention on the Galabans waiting for the priest.  They appeared to be mostly women and children.

The old man pointed toward the sea as the priest spoke.  “They arrived in the northwest of Aragon.  The Countess of Chaca, the Lady Catherine sent them here, to my bishop, with papers concerning their need for temporary settlement until she can make better arrangements.  Her attention is first taken with the war with Portugal over the Castilian throne.  My bishop has provided food, shelter, and work for the men.  I have been tasked with teaching the faith to these Novo Christians to keep them out of the hands of the inquisition.”

“Your ship is parked underwater?” Lockhart asked, stuck on what he imagined was the important point.

The old man sadly shook his head.  “Of the three ships that brought us here, two have returned to our home world with word of our discovery.  We brought the third ship to this place, but we had difficulty flying the short distance.  There was an accident.  We managed to escape, but the ship sank in the waters.  It is now ruined.  We are cut off from home until our other ships return.”

“You know this planet is off limits to outsiders,” Katie said.

“So the Lady Kairos explained to us, but we have nowhere else to go and now, no way to get there.”

The travelers remained silent, looking at one another, not sure what they could say.  Even Lincoln seemed to be at a loss for words.  The priest and the old man waited, stomping their feet a bit against the cold.  The priest, because he saw them appear out of nowhere, and while they claimed to be only human, he was not so sure.  The old man because he saw enough to recognize these were people who had power well beyond his understanding.  He saw the women with only a word adjust their clothing to the local styles they could see.  He wanted to ask how they did that, but he dared not.

Katie finally broke the silence.  “You must learn and practice the faith.  In this time and place it is vital for your survival.”

Lockhart spoke again.  “We will be seeing the Kairos, shortly.  Do you have anything you wish us to tell her?”

The priest shook his head, but the old man had a thought.  “Only to remind her of what we told her at the first.  The Nameada—spiders may have followed us to this world.  Such was not our intent, but we are new to space, and they may have followed without our knowing.  They breed fast and are deadly.  I hope—pray they did not come here.”

“Space alien spiders?” Sukki heard and let out a little shriek before Lincoln could respond.  Lincoln frowned, like she stole his line.  Tony, having gotten Ghost under control, laughed.  Nanette sealed her mouth and looked at Decker, who remained as stoic as ever.  Elder Stow fiddled with something on his scanner.  Katie and Lockhart stared at one another once more before Katie again broke the silence.

“Priest.  What city is this?”

“Barcelona,” the priest said.

“What is the year?” Lockhart asked.

“1476.  February.  Why?”

“Not your concern,” Lockhart said.  He looked at Katie without a word.  She pointed the general direction and he said, “Move out.”  They turned and started through the narrow streets of the city.

###

That night, having made it out of the city, the travelers sat in a quiet village inn.  While Lincoln and Elder Stow both seemed preoccupied with their reading, Lockhart finally asked what everyone appeared to shrug off.  “So, why did Ghost object so much when we arrived?”

Tony looked at his food for a minute and it gave Sukki a chance to interject her thought.  “I guessed it was because we came out facing the sun, and the sun was so bright in the way it reflected off the water.  I had to close my eyes.”

Tony nodded a little before he shook his head.  “It is only a guess, but you know Ghost is not good with strangers.  Back in the Khyber Pass, the bandits got him out of the harness, but he would not move for them, not even to get put in the fenced in area where they put the horses.”

“The horses did not cooperate either,” Katie said.  “I assume that is why they were still saddled and ready to ride.”

“Maybe,” Tony said.  “But Ghost is normally okay with strangers as long as he can ignore them, like when we move through a town.  I have noticed, though, he reacts to strangers when they are not human.  I don’t know what it is, or how he can tell, but this is not the first time.  He did not mind the Apes so much, though he let me know not to get too close.  The Flesh Eaters made him nervous.”

“He didn’t want to be eaten,” Lincoln said under his breath while he read.  He looked like he did not blame the mule for that attitude.

“He did not seem to like the Galabans either,” Tony continued.  “I don’t want to read into it.  We are talking about a mule, but it seems like he has a sense for aliens that are a danger.”

“Like children and puppy dogs,” Lockhart said.  “They can sometimes tell the good ones from the bad ones.”

“And elves. They can sense such things,” Sukki added, thinking of her adopted sister, Boston, whom she missed.

Katie nodded.  “I wouldn’t trust the mule entirely, but I also felt something not quite right with the Galabans from the start.  The old man and individually they seemed nice enough but, I don’t know.  My elect senses flared.”

“I know what you mean,” Nanette agreed.  “I looked with my magic if I did it right.  The old man was not lying, as far as I could tell, but it seemed like he did not tell us the whole truth.”

Elder Stow spoke up.  “Like, if their ship crashed in the sea, how did they escape and get safely to shore?  Do they have shuttle craft and escape pods hidden somewhere?  And what is their weapons technology?”

“It almost makes me want to go back and ask some more questions,” Lockhart said, but Decker interrupted.

“The Kairos met them and brought them to Barcelona.  We should trust that she knows what she is doing, and she knows what these Galabans are capable of.  Our job is to get back to the future.  It is hard enough staying focused on that without all the interruptions.”

Reflections Flern-12 part 1 of 3

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Three four wheeled, double-axle wagons, each drawn by a double team of horses—a terrible breach of the temporal order—stopped just outside the village beneath the mountain pass. Scores of gnomes of various sorts, some like imps and some like dwarfs, swarmed all over the wagons, greased every joint, checked all the stress points, tracked the cargo, and set the horses free to be groomed and fed.

Some hundred and twenty light elves: elves, brownies, kobold and various fairies came behind the wagons and camped at a distance beneath the village, along the Dnepr River. They would be joined by thirty elves from Miroven, the ones led by Laurel that Flern thought of as her own personal guardians. Fifty sturdy dwarfs with three ogres under Balken’s command would march beside them, down from Movan Mountain. In the night, more than a hundred dark elves, goblins mostly with a couple of trolls, would move down the mountain to guard the precious cargo in the hours of darkness.

That precious cargo in the wagons was the promised bronze, weapons in the first wagon – swords, spears and plenty of arrows. The second wagon carried mostly weapons as well, but on Flern’s insistence it also carried some plows, hoes and such tools that would benefit the people. The third wagon held the tools and pieces to put together their own forge along with enough raw material to get them started. Pinn and the boys had high hopes once they set their families free. Thrud and Vinnu were pregnant and just wanted to get home.

Eight young people and Riah the elf, wearing a glamour to make her appear human, with Goldenwing at rest and hidden in her horse’s mane, rode ahead to meet the village elders and the waiting travelers. The travelers spent six months moving down the Dinester and back up the Dnepr drumming up support in every town and village along the way. There were presently some four hundred people, mostly men and mostly hunters camped on the grasslands across the river to the east.

“Good to see you.” Venislav was the one who spoke for the village. “Our food stores are exhausted.”

Flern figured that. “I have people bringing game and bread from the Brugh and others bringing in a whole herd from the wilderness between the rivers.”

“Good to hear,” Tird said. He rode on horseback beside Venislav. Trell, hair greased down which made him almost unrecognizable, rode beside Karenski of the travelers.

“Where are the girls?” Pinn asked.

“Vincas and Arania?” Flern remembered.

“Measuring their tummies,” Trell said with a straight face before he grinned and gave a sideways glance at Tird who returned the grin.

“Vinnu and Thrud are pregnant, too,” Flern said

“Flern and I are still working on it,” Pinn added.

“Children.” That was all Karenski said before they turned to ride into the village. They were going to feast that night, pass out weapons in the morning, and from the way some of the elders acted, hopefully leave in the afternoon. Flern knew it would not be quite so easy.

It was Vilder who nudged Pinn and that got Flern’s attention. Venislav and Karenski also paid attention as it seemed they agreed to stick close to Flern. “There are campfires there at the foot of the pass.” Vilder pointed. Flern shook her head. It was not Movan or Miroven. She did not know who they might be. But it appeared as if three people headed their way.

“Ah,” Venislav made the sound before he spoke. “They came down the pass two days ago and claim to be from the other side of the mountain and the plateau, though I cannot imagine it. They say the plateau is full of monsters.”

“Hello!” One of the oncoming three waved and yelled. Vilder at least returned the wave. The other waited until they were close enough for Pinn to shout.

“Fritt!” When they got closer, Pinn’s word became a question. “Fritt?” Fat Fritt no longer looked fat.

“Nadia.” Flern recognized the girl and gave her a sisterly kiss in greeting before she remembered she never met the girl. Wlvn did. Nadia looked embarrassed, even if it had been explained to her. Fortunately, the third member of their party took everyone’s attention when he dropped to one knee.

“Mother of old,” he said.

Flern remembered the young man from her brief time on the plateau, or rather Faya’s time. “Horan. My name is Flern if you don’t mind. I’m not sure I like the old part.”

“From the plateau?” Pinn asked. She wanted to be sure.

Flern knew what she was asking. She nodded. He was Were, a shape shifter who had the good sense to appear human. “Come on,” she said. “We are going to eat food.”

At the door to the main building, which would not be nearly big enough for all the chiefs, Flern ran into Elluin. She also looked pregnant and very glad to see them. She made a point of saying that Drud had been good that whole time. Flern did not exactly believe her when she noticed that Drud stayed conspicuously absent from the festivities.

“I’m feeling left out,” Pinn complained. She did not have to spell it out that she wanted a baby. Flern took her arm as they went inside.

“We will just have to work at it harder,” she said, and got lost for a minute in her own thoughts.

In the morning took all day. They had a limited number of swords and spears to hand out and tried to get them into the right hands. They had the ungodly number of a thousand arrows with bronze tips. Everyone got two.

Miroven and Movan arrived in time for breakfast, which did wonders for the food supply. It also scared some of the locals and the travelers when they heard the food came from the Brugh. That great forest was seen as the land of ghosts and spirits and unnatural things. Flern wisely had the troops camp beside the Were, well away from the village and the sight of men.

It did not get much better when her gnomes brought in the herd from the land between the rivers that evening. Flern had a makeshift pen constructed that used a natural bend in the river. It gave all those men something to do other than sit around and gripe. But then, she insisted her gnomes stay invisible when they brought in the beasts, and it got hard for some of the men to watch the beasts they normally hunted willingly move into captivity unguided by any hands. Of course, some by then had settled on the idea that Flern was the witch. Curiously, that comforted many of the men, like they had a secret weapon.

As the sun set, Karenski took up speaking where Venislav left off. “I see you have men camped some distance below the wagons and have not brought them up to join the other men.” From a distance, they mostly looked like men.

Flern stood with Kined to watch the sunset and she took Kined’s hand while he spoke. “Not a good idea.”

“They don’t mix well,” Flern added.

Karenski looked thoughtful. “And also, I know the ones camped at the foot of the pass are more than we can see. We know them only by the fires they light in the night.”

“Best to leave them alone,” Kined said.

Karenski nodded. “But to be curious, may I ask how many fighters you have brought?”

“Enough to double the number of men camped on the grasses.”

“So many?” Karenski acted surprised, but it appeared to be an act. Venislav spoke then what was on his mind.

“So, what do we do next?”

“We leave in the morning,” Flern said, and squeezed Kined’s hand. “It will take the men close to a week to cross the land between here and our village. The ones by the pass will stay above them the whole way and the ones below the wagons will stay below them. That way the Jaccar will not be able to sneak around and surprise the men from the side or from the rear.”

“Such wisdom, and from children,” Karenski smiled.

“I almost wish the Jaccar would get around behind the men in the night,” Kined said, and he grinned as he thought about it.

Flern quickly explained. “There is a third group who will follow behind the men. It would be best if you did not ask about them at all.”

“I see,” Karenski sounded thoughtful again. “I think I better go tell my people to stay close to their homes in the night.”

“Yes, me too,” said Venislav

“Good idea,” Flern said. Vilder, Gunder and Tiren were presently telling the men in the camp that very thing.

Reflections Flern-7 part 2 of 3

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Flern rested in her own time and place in history but she sat up when the girls called. She got to her feet when she heard the noise of horses in the camp. “They are here,” old Gallred stuck his head in the door, but Flern already started on her way.

Laurel came first to the top of the rise on her elf-steed, one more capable than any the humans rode, and Flern’s mare followed dutifully behind. Kined and Fat Fritt came next, their jaws dropped as they pointed out amazing things about this world where the elf had taken them. The couples came last, Pinn beside Vilder, Vinnu beside Gunder and Thrud beside Tiren who brought up the rear.

Flern walked up as they dismounted. She introduced Gallred, the gray-haired elder elf before she gave her little speech. “I imagine Laurel explained. I was wrong. I’m sorry. I was here a day before I realized I can’t do this without you. Anyway, you all volunteered, and it is your village as much as mine. It was not fair to leave you behind. I understand that none of us may survive this journey, and that includes me.” She stopped because she started crying and could not say more.

 Pinn, the first to reach her, hugged her. Vinnu and Thrud were not far behind. The boys stood back and let the girls commiserate, but Laurel stepped up, spoke when she could.  “There, you see?” She added her own hug to the party. Flern simply wiped her eyes and nodded while Vilder spoke up.

“Trell has gone with Arania and the travelers. Tird has stayed with Vincas, and they will be married soon, I think. Elluin and Drud have also stayed in the village. I feel for her as much as any of us, but Drud has said he wants to do right and maybe make up for Bunder and their years of being ox droppings.”

“Vilder!” Pinn objected.

Vilder frowned before he grinned. “Okay, their years of being bad. But as you can see, the rest of us are here. You were the one who wanted to fetch the bronze all along. Maybe it would have helped if we went sooner, and maybe not. I was not sure when we escaped if we might all just end up settling somewhere. I thought the Jaccar could not be beaten. You showed us they can. You showed the village and the travelers that the Jaccar are not invincible. Now I feel we have a real chance to save our village and all of our families and friends. But we have to finish the journey together or die trying.” He paused and looked around at every face. “We understand the risks and I think now we understand why the Jaccar want to stop you, especially. We talked about that. We need to keep you alive to finish the journey because you are the best chance we have to set our people free.” Vilder stopped and looked again at everyone. His face asked if he said that right and if anyone had anything to add.

“I—” Kined started to speak but stopped when Flern turned to walk toward him. She wiped her nose and eyes on the sleeve of her dress as she walked up and gave him a hug, a quick thing before she turned away, but it felt important, or at least she felt it was.

“Got anything to eat around here?” Fritt broke the tension with the question and old Gallred stepped up.

“Of course, young human. Leave your horses to us and come and refresh yourselves. We have non-enchanted food specially prepared, just for you.”

Flern looked at the smiling elf. “It’s all right. I have already decided they won’t be enchanted by the food so feed them what you will.” She returned his smile.

That afternoon, Flern took the girls to the small pool in the woods. It appeared to be just a bit of crystal-clear water, but it had been surrounded by a soft lawn and plenty of flowers that grew to make the whole area smell lovely.  Laurel also accompanied them, but she kept back and kept her thoughts to herself.

“This is called the pool of reflection,” Flern explained with a look at Laurel who nodded. “The elves tell me that sometimes, instead of your own image, it can reflect what is most pressing on your mind and heart.”

“So, what?” Vinnu asked. “It will show me what I really want?”

“Not what you want, necessarily.” Flern started to explain better.

“Oh, go ahead,” Thrud interrupted. “If it is what you want, you will probably only see yourself.”

“Thrud!” Flern and Pinn objected, and Pinn pushed ahead to the pool. She looked, and at first, she only saw herself. The others watched, but from an angle so as not to disturb the image. After a moment, the water began to swirl, or rather the picture began to swirl. The water stayed as still and calm as ever. Slowly, a different picture formed. It remained Pinn, but she sat to the side, smiling, and nursing a baby. Pinn quickly backed away.

“Pinn,” Vinnu touched her friend on the hand. “I never knew.

“Who would have thought it?” Thrud spoke up.

“I never would have guessed,” Flern agreed, and Pinn turned a little red for one of the few times in her life. She moved Flern’s hand toward the pool.

“So, let’s see you,” she said.

Flern lifted her eyebrows, shook her head, and tried to back away, but the others would not let her. The more she said, “No, no, guys. Please, not me,” the more the others insisted until she finally gave in. She got in position, and looked and saw herself, but another picture came into focus quickly—the picture of a young man.

“Oh, where did you find him?” Thrud quickly asked. Pinn looked a little closer.

“Why, he looks just like you,” Pinn said.

“Who is it?” Vinnu asked.

Flern mouthed the word carefully. “Wlvn.” She saw Wlvn mouth a word in return, and she heard that word clearly in her head. “Flern.” Then their eyes met and Flern became terribly dizzy. She fell back, and after a moment, Wlvn sat up.

Wlvn smiled for Pinn, Thrud and Vinnu each in turn. He quickly checked the pool, but all he saw was his own reflection. He looked again at the girls and then up at the Lady elf who stood quietly by a tree. “Laurel.” He named her. “I see you are all grown up, and may I add, you are lovely.”

“My Lord,” Laurel came close. “You did that, or rather Flern did that despite knowing what was going to happen. Why?”

“I didn’t know what was going to happen. Flern did not know. We are partners in time as well as being male and female reflections of each other, you see. I am experiencing Flern and myself at the same time, more or less. Why?”

“Because you have double traded, as you called it. And as I understand it you are stuck now living Flern’s life and she is stuck living yours.”

“That can’t be good.” Wlvn reached out for Flern with his mind, but for the first time in years she was not there.

“I don’t understand,” Vinnu said.

“She is taking up not following things where Elluin left off,” Thrud said. Pinn elbowed Thrud but otherwise stayed exceptionally quiet.

“I assume I won’t find her again in the pool.” Wlvn spoke to Laurel.

“No Lord,” Laurel admitted, and then she appeared to think very hard before she spoke again. “When I was young and Flern appeared in your world I had a vision. In it, I saw you continuing her quest while she continued yours. Whether or not you find a way to straighten out your lives, I cannot say. But what you do is up to you. It is always up to you.”

“You will come with us?” Wlvn asked and Pinn, Vinnu and Thrud all looked at the elf. They had not considered that possibility, but they did not seem to object to the idea of bringing along a little magical help, as they saw it.

“I dare not. I rode with Flern, and I know the outcome of those days. I may speak of things out of turn which may change things in the future.” Wlvn looked disappointed, but he understood. “But there is one, if you wish.” Laurel let out a sound like the whip-o-will at sundown. It echoed through the woods, and it did not take long before they all heard an answer.

“Sounds like a girl,” Thrud said, and in only a moment, a girl ran up much faster than human legs could run. She looked young, maybe fourteen or fifteen, but she was not dressed in a dress like Laurel and the girls. Laurel, in fact, looked majestic to Wlvn’s ancient eyes, but this girl had more of the Peter Pan look about her, being in shorts, leggings and an alpine-type hat. She held a bow in her hand like it was her best friend.

“Is it done?” the girl asked, breathless.

Laurel nodded and introduced Wlvn and the girls and then introduced her daughter, “Moriah. She is not interested in the past and thinks she is an Amazon.” Moriah gave her mother a dirty look.

Thrud and Vinnu stood and said that they were glad to meet the girl, and happy to have someone on the journey who knew where she was going. Pinn looked at Wlvn, and so did Moriah. Wlvn spoke slowly as he framed his thoughts into words.

“After myself you must listen to Pinn and follow her instructions. Then you must listen to Vilder who is in charge of the boys and do what he says after Pinn. Is this clear?”

Moriah wrinkled her nose and looked at her mother who only smiled. “He is worse than you.”

“And another thing. I knew Moriah, the one I am sure you were named after.” Wlvn looked at Laurel who nodded. “I think we need to call you Riah instead. I get so easily confused.”

Pinn interrupted. “But Wolven, won’t you be in charge?”

Wlvn lifted his eyebrows and shook his head and the young women all gasped. It was what Flern always did. “I am an accidental traveler,” he said. “My chief job is to find a way to trade back so Flern can live her own life. Barring that, I have to figure out some way to overcome the Wicca.”

“The what?” Vinnu asked.

“She is the one in charge of the Jaccar. They only do her bidding.”

“And her magic is far stronger than my own,” Laurel said. “No little spirit can resist her power. We are safe here, but only because there are many of us.”

Wlvn nodded like he understood. “It must be in her blood,” he said, and Laurel agreed, though she could not imagine who the Wicca’s mother or father might be.

Wlvn shook off his thoughts and turned to Riah. “Well?” He asked, and it sounded a bit sharp. Riah jumped.

“Yes, Lord. I will do this.”

“Good.” Wlvn stood. “I need to introduce myself to the men, if a certain elf will accompany me.” Laurel just smiled broadly and stepped up to take his arm.

He smiled for her and shot the words over his shoulder. “We leave in the morning.”

Reflections Flern-6 part 3 of 3

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“The Jaccar will wait until morning at the very least,” one big man said. Vilder, Tiren, Gunder, Borsiloff and Karenski all looked at Flern, and she did not disappoint them as she shook her head most firmly. She heard from Diogenes and the Princess, her two experts in this sort of thing, and she spoke as well as she could, and with an uncharacteristic decisiveness.

“The Jaccar may wait until morning or until the rain stops, but we cannot count on that. My decision would be to press forward in the bad conditions because I would expect my enemy to become lax and lazy. I say double the watchers in the night and be sure they can keep watch on each other as well. That way, if some sneaky, grass covered Jaccar takes out one watcher, the other can raise the alarm.” Flern looked down at her boots. She felt sure that whether in the night or in the morning, good men were going to die to protect her. The Jaccar seemed only interested in getting to her, after all. “Maybe we can plan a surprise for them in the morning,” Flern said offhandedly. “A good bit of morning fog might help.” She looked up toward the sky, full of rain clouds. She started toward the tent, not wanting to argue with anyone. Vilder called after her to ask where she was going, and she did not mind telling him. “Doctor Mishka needs a nap,” she said. “And so do I.”

Flern woke up before sunrise and sat up to very little light. It took a few seconds of eye adjustment to discern that the other girls were all present and sleeping. The rain had stopped, and the clouds had cleared off, so the light of the nearly full moon helped a lot. What is that knocking at my door, Flern wondered. “Who is there?” She asked out loud, but soft enough to not wake the others.

“Miroven.” The answer came quickly, and a message came with it. “The Jaccar have arrived in force, nearly a hundred, and they are preparing to move.”

Flern jumped up. “Show time!” She shouted, and everyone in the tent began to stir, slowly. Flern called for her weapons and felt surprised to learn that she now knew how to use them. Of course, she understood that head knowledge and hand knowledge were two different things. She felt the other gift, too—the one from Baldur. Wlvn received the gift of speed. She knew, but it probably would not help her fly. “Show time!” Flern shouted again. “Hurry up!” She said, as she left the tent.

Flern listened to Miroven as she walked to what she called the command tarp. “We are presently arrayed behind their position. If they pull back, we will have them.”

“I hope by the time we are done, there will be none left to pull back,” Flern said, and she cut the connection and found that her headache did not feel as bad as before. Perhaps, in time, she thought she might be able to do this without any headache at all. Flern had gotten up when Mishka awoke, and she arranged things before she put herself back to bed. Now she would see, and she let her thoughts drift up to the sky, and the few lazy clouds that remained there.

“Little friends in the sky, come down now. Bring the clouds to make the wall and I will be so grateful.” That was all she thought before she came to Karenski and the lone village elder who presently had the duty. Gunder stood there as well to represent the young people, and they all looked at her for what to do. “Get the men up and moving,” Flern said. “They are coming.”

“Are you sure?” Gunder asked, and Flern frowned. She did not need her own people questioning her. She was not used to this command business, and such a question might make her question herself.

“I am sure.” That seemed all she could say. Fortunately, it was enough. As the men went off to their appointed tasks, Flern floated up to the top of the nearest house wagon. She looked up briefly and said thank you to Nanna, the moon goddess for the flight, and again as she felt the light of the moon rise up inside of her. When she raised her hands, she still did not know if it might work, but sure enough, light came from her hands and then from her eyes, and it looked like several spotlights of moonlight, like moonbeams that she could move back and forth. To be sure, it looked dim, not much better than spotlight flashlights, but it looked strong enough to reflect off the gathering fog bank. The bank looked more like two hundred yards off rather than a hundred yards, but it should still work if the sky sprites made it thick enough. If the Jaccar came on foot, she figured the travelers and villagers would have an advantage, being able to deploy some of their men on horseback. But if the Jaccar came on horseback, she felt they would be in trouble. A cavalry charge would overwhelm the poor defenses of the village. This artificial fog bank created by her sky sprites should make a cavalry charge impossible. The Jaccar would have to slow considerably to get through the fog lest they become disoriented and begin crashing into each other.

Flern turned off her lights when they began to simply reflect back from the fog. She scared herself a little because it took a minute to figure out how to do that. “Entering the fog on this side. They are on foot.” Flern heard from her elf spy while she floated back to the earth. “There are thirty horsemen down the riverbank. I suspect they will charge once the footmen engage your forces.” Flern’s panic must have been palpable as she ran to where Vilder waited, Pinn beside him.

“Vilder. They have horsemen downriver. What are we going to do if they charge our flank?”

Vilder might not have known what a flank was, exactly, but he moved quickly to draw one in five men on the wall of wagons to reinforce that side. The sides of the wall had been virtually deserted to strengthen the center where they all felt sure the Jaccar would strike. Now, the downriver side of the wall got staffed again. “We can’t do more,” Vilder said. “We can only hope that if they charge, these men will be able to hold them until we can send more help.”

All of a sudden, poor Flern became a nervous wreck. She felt sure that this would not work, and good men were going to die needlessly, for her, to protect her. “Pinn?” She looked to her friend, the strong one on whom they always depended.

“There isn’t any more we can do. We are as ready as we are going to be. I only wish it was over,” Pinn said, and walked away to catch up with Vilder. Flern followed more slowly and dragged her feet but started when she heard from Miroven once again.

“They are coming to the edge of the fog bank and should present targets soon.” Flern ran.

“Get ready!” She yelled. “Get ready!” she shouted down the wall and jumped-floated up again to the top of a house wagon. She saw the first, and then more and more, coming on slowly and carefully. There seemed so many of them, Flern had to hold her breath and listen very closely to the words inside her head. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from screaming despite Diogenes repeating his phrases, “Be patient. Not yet. Be patient.” When Diogenes finally said, “Now!” She almost did not hear it. Then she shouted, and while the barrage of arrows turned out to be an intermittent thing, there were enough arrows all at once to pin more than one Jaccar to the ground.

The Jaccar charged as arrows continued to rain on them. Flern’s hunters knew how to shoot a bow and hit their target, even if they were not warriors and did not have the experience at war that the Jaccar had.

“Again!” Flern shouted, and she let her moonbeams fall on those places where the Jaccar were bunched up. Any archer attracted to the light could hardly help hitting someone with an arrow. Then the arrows stopped, not all at once, but in a ragged sort of way as the horsemen from the villagers and travelers pushed out between the wagons and, spears in hand, affected a counter charge. These men were chosen for their ability to hunt with their spears from horseback, and they cut big gaping holes in the Jaccar charge, but there were still plenty of Jaccar coming on, screaming and yelling in a way that would frighten the villagers and travelers, not because the Jaccar were courageous, but because they were giving voice to their own fears. The screams were the sounds of terror and imminent death. Many were going to die.

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

MONDAY

There is a battle and Flern runs away, but then the mixup happens and Flern ends up vanishing.  Wlvn takes her place and there does not seem to be a way back. Until Monday, Happy Reading.

*

Reflections Flern-6 part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Vincas’ father, Venislav turned out to be as verbal as his daughter. “That young man saved my life. He saved us all.” He reached up with his good hand and patted his daughter’s hand and smiled for her when she came over to watch. Venislav’s other hand rested in his lap. His arm broke, but it did not hurt much as long as he kept it still. Mishka smiled and sent Borsiloff and Thrud off in search of what she needed for a splint and sling. A broken bone in those days often did not heal right and it meant loss of some use in that limb, if it did not cripple, but it would not be that big a deal to one who knew her anatomy. The big deal would be keeping it immobilized until the bones knit together. She distracted Vincas and her father with a question.

“Pivdenny Bugh, it used to be all woods. What happened to all the trees?”

“The Brugh?” Venislav said, before he squinted and groaned softly as Mishka made sure the bones lined up correctly. It had been a clean break and should heal completely. “We cut them, for our homes and to make our fields and, well, everything we needed.” Vincas spoke up in her father’s place.

“Our forefathers did.” Venislav corrected his daughter while a few tears dropped from his eyes. “That was well before my time. Anyway, if you go further up into the hills, the woods are still there. We hunt there sometimes, but nobody goes very far into the woods.”

“Why is that?” Mishka asked as her things arrived and she began to immobilize the arm. Venislav watched the doctor work, so Vincas spoke up again.

“Because the woods are full of ancient spirit people, elves and dwarfs.” Her eyes got big as she spoke. “And they have magic and play terrible tricks on the poor souls who get lost in the woods.”

“Silly superstition.” Venislav spoke when he saw that the Doctor was not going to hurt him anymore. “It is just too easy to get lost in the woods, that’s all.”

Doctor Mishka nodded. She heard what she wanted to hear, and now all she needed was to charge Venislav with every terrible thing she could think of to be sure he left his splint on and his arm in the sling long enough to properly heal. When she stood, she told the others she needed a break before seeing any more patients. She had treated the worst, so no one would die on her.

While they walked outside, Doctor Mishka asked Flern a question. “Would you like me to do it?”

Flern took a minute to come out of whatever spaced-out condition she rested in, and she realize that she knew everything the good Doctor said and did, so while Flern might not be in her own time and place, in a way she still was. “No.” Flern responded in Mishka’s mind. “It is my life. I should do it myself.”

“Doctore.” Pinn pronounced the unfamiliar word imperfectly. “Thrud, Arania and I are going back to the wagon wall to check on the boys. Vinnu and Elluin say they can help here, but we feel kind of useless.”

“Mishka,” she said. “And that would be fine. I will be along, shortly.”

“See ya, Flern,” Thrud said, with a broad grin.

Just for that, Mishka smiled and instantly changed back to Flern, startling Thrud and almost making her stumble. “See ya,” Flern said, and she watched Pinn laugh, turn the girl in the right direction, and watched them walk away.

I have to concentrate, Flern thought to herself as she looked away. She was going to try and contact the earth spirits that might not even be there. It could not be harder than contacting the water spirits, she thought, but then, if they were there, they would be terribly far away. “Miroven.” The word popped into her head, and at first, she did not know what it meant. She understood it as a name, but whose? She shrugged. She called. “Miroven.” Nothing happened. She tried again, and a third time, and still nothing happened. She felt frustrated, because she felt sure something was supposed to happen, so on the fourth call, she shouted, and in her heart, she demanded some response. She jumped in her skin when the response came into her mind. She had heard from other lives she had lived, but this felt different. It sounded clearly like a voice outside of herself coming, she imagined, on a very private wavelength.

 “We are here, my Lady.” Miroven said. “We knew you were coming, and we have prepared. There are thirty of us, all volunteers, who will help in this struggle, and more who will help to defend the river and keep the enemy from crossing over.”

“What? Prepared? Thirty?” Flern looked around, but she did not see thirty people or thirty elves.  “No, wait. Don’t come here. I will come to you, but I don’t know when.”

A long pause followed before Flern heard an answer. “We will not come there if you do not wish it, but we are very close if you need us.” That felt like enough. Flern cut the contact and put her hand to her head. She was going to have a nice headache.

Vincas took that moment to come out of the common house, and she came up to Flern, immediately. “Are you well?” she asked, sweetly. Flern smiled for the girl, though a weak smile, and she nodded, though it did not help her throbbing temples. “Maybe if you became the Dokter—the healer again.” Vincas suggested. Flern nodded and made the change, and Mishka’s smile felt more genuine.

“Trouble is,” Mishka said. “When Flern comes home, she will still have a headache, I believe.”

“Oh.” Vincas clearly did not know what to say. She had no idea how it worked and simply felt overwhelmed on watching the transformation from one person to what looked mostly like a completely different person.

Doctor Mishka eventually made her way over to the house where they kept the Jaccar prisoner. His wounds were the worst of all, and she knew he did not have much time to live. If he did, she felt sure the village elders would be getting out the rope; but the village healer, more or less a shaman for the people confirmed her diagnosis. She questioned the prisoner, which surprised the shaman. None of them had been able to talk to the man, and Mishka figured Flern might not have understood the words either, but she had access to a lifetime that Flern did not yet know, so she got the language and got to ask her questions. It soon became clear that the man seemed normal in all respects, except he seemed convinced that serving the Wicca and doing whatever she asked was the most important thing in his life. He asked Mishka several times if she knew where the young red-haired girl might be. He spoke very frank in saying that his only desire was to find this girl and kill her. This is what the Wicca asked, and so it was what he must do. Even in his half-dead condition, Mishka felt certain that given the opportunity, the man would try.

“It is a very powerful enchantment,” the healer said, when Mishka explained the situation. “I have no way of undoing something so strong.”

“Nor I,” Mishka agreed, and she gave the Jaccar some pain killers so at least his last few hours would not be so painful. When she went back outside, she saw that it started raining again. She returned to being Flern, the right person in her own time and place, and Flern suffered with her headache all the way back to the wall of wagons. Pinn and the others sat there under a hastily erected tarp. Karenski, also present, said nothing. He just looked at Flern the way he did. Flern started getting used to that. Two of the village elders were also present, and they were currently arguing that now that the rain returned, and now that it would soon be dark, surely the Jaccar would not do anything.

Reflections Flern-2 part 2 of 3

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

When Flern awoke, she found herself dressed in the same armor and weapons that Wlvn had been wearing. She thought of it as Diogenes’ armor, at least that was what she called it, but then that did not make much sense since Diogenes lived so far away in the future. It must belong to me, she thought again, to the Kairos I mean, all of my lifetimes throughout history; and that meant since this was her lifetime, it belonged to her. That felt good because she thought she might need the protection, even if she did not know what to do with the weapons. Flern sat up and felt for the long knife that rested across the small of her back. The knife poked her and woke her, though the sword sort of felt like sleeping on a metal rod. “Hey!” Flern shouted and pulled that long knife from its sheath. She looked at it closely and tried not to cut herself in the process. Bronze, she thought, and too bad she did not have a hundred of these. She put it back carefully in its sheath and checked the time. The sun looked about ready to set.

Flern stood, brushed herself off and thought that the armor felt remarkably light and soft. She reached carefully beneath her sleeve and confirmed that something came between her and the leather so wonderfully covered in chain mail. She touched her undergarment. She had a brief vision of elves spinning with spider webs and morning dew and she could not be sure what all else, but it made the garment extremely comfortable. The boots felt comfortable, too, as comfortable as her own ultra-soft winter moccasin boots, but with a hard sole and what she imagined as something like a steel toe. Of course, it isn’t steel yet. She knew that much.

Flern smiled and wished she had a mirror. She just started craning her neck to try and see herself from the back side when she heard a sound and stopped still. Voices, male voices sounded like they were coming up the hill. Flern panicked, afraid that she would surely be caught. She ran to the rugged side of the clearing where it became impossible to climb up or down the hill because of all the loose rocks and bramble bushes. She scrunched down to wait and see.

The first man she saw enter the clearing, Strawhead Trell, got followed in order by Vilder, Gunder, Tiren, Kined, Fat Fritt, and last of all, Tird, the skinny. “It is Flern’s horse, I tell you.” Kined spoke. “She must be here.”

“Flern.” Fritt called out, but not too loud lest his words echo off the cliff and reach some enemy ears. “Flern.” Others called, too.

Flern wanted to giggle, she felt so happy not to be alone, but then she could not resist a good tease. She lowered her voice as dramatically as she could and spoke into her cupped hands. “Who calls for Flern, the Elven Queen? Speak, or feel her wrath.”

Tird jumped, but the others recognized her voice despite her best efforts to disguise it. They mostly remained unsure of her location, except for Vilder and Tiren who looked straight in her direction.

“Not funny, Flern,” Tiren said.

“You could get in real trouble if the elves hear you,” Tird added.

Flern stood up and sighed. “Help me,” she said, unsure of her footing. Vilder and Tiren each grabbed a gloved hand and hauled her free of the brambles. “I didn’t know who might be coming. I was afraid it might be the Jaccar. What?” She asked what because no one said anything. They just stared at her in the light of the setting sun.

Flern understood, smiled, and spun once in a slow circle to model her armor. She asked, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” Three voices spoke at once, and three others spoke at nearly the same time.

“Is that a real sword?”

“What is it made of?”

“Nice legs.” That last word came from Strawhead Trell.

Flern’s leather skirt fell to just above her knees, and the boots that came up almost to her knees were form fitting. Normally, girls wore dresses that fell to the ground, so for Flern, this felt a bit risqué.

“We’re going to fight the Jaccar.” Fritt interrupted them all and wanted to get Flern’s attention back from Trell’s comment on her anatomy.

“What? The six of you and Tird against a thousand Jaccar warriors?” Flern scoffed.

“Hey!” Tird objected. He might not want to fight, but he would if he had to.

“We are waiting for darkness and plan to sneak in after the Jaccar are asleep.” Gunder gave the whole plan and Flern heard something else in the words. She touched the big man’s angry arm and reassured him.

“I am sure Vinnu is fine for now.” She broadened her assurances. “And Thrud, Pinn and Elluin. At least I did not see their heads up on poles.”

“What?” The boys all turned toward the village, still discernible in the dwindling light, and more visible in spots where the camp and home fires burned.

“What are you talking about?” Tiren asked because he was not sure he wanted to accept her plain words. “Heads on poles?”

Flern nodded and looked away as she felt the tears well up inside of her at the thought. “Some of the men have had their heads chopped off and they have been set up on poles in the village center.”

“What?” Both Trell and Fritt looked ready to tear down the hill and ride back to the village right then, but Gunder and Vilder stopped them. Then Vilder stepped up and took over asking the questions.

“How do you know there are heads on poles? We got as close as we dared, and we did not see anything like that.”

“Mother Vrya helped me see,” Flern admitted, and she saw no reason to hide that fact. “I have been up here all afternoon and I did not even know the Jaccar had come until she came and pointed it out.”

“Mother Vrya?” Kined asked. The smart one always got allowed to interject a question, even if the leader had the floor. Just to be sure, though, Vilder repeated the question.

“Mother Vrya?”

Flern nodded. “The goddess,” she clarified.

“And I suppose these are her clothes and weapons. Fit for a fight by the look of them.” Vilder said.

Tird tapped Vilder on the shoulder and Vilder looked at him as if giving a kind of permission to speak. “They say that Vrya is as quick with her sword as she is with her kiss.” Tird said, but now Flern shook her head again.

“No, actually, these are mine.” She touched her waist and chest. “Mother Vrya has her own, and very fine it is, too, I am sure.”

“Yours?”

Flern nodded again. “Vilder and Kined, I need to see you privately for a minute. I have something to show you before you make your mad dash into the village.” She tried to think of a way to keep the boys from committing suicide, and she felt sure that would be the outcome of any attack on the Jaccar at this point, even if they waited until it got really dark.

“All right.” Kined seemed game, but Vilder looked reluctant.

“No. You just need to stay here where you are safe. We will come for you later if we can.”

“Vilder.” Flern would not accept that. “I am not asking. You must come and see first, and then if you want to follow through with your madness, that will be up to you.”

“Come on,” Kined encouraged. Vilder frowned, but he made a general announcement.

“Wait here.”